tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-35017024375005447802024-03-07T08:51:30.323+00:00 Wendy Robertson Life Twice Tasted'We write to taste life twice:in the moment and in retrospect.' Anaïs NinWendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.comBlogger542125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-27561029459863068922022-09-18T19:08:00.004+01:002022-09-23T11:14:55.274+01:00The Writing Process: The Relationship between notebooks and publications.<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoSubtitle" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">“Writers live life twice – once when they live it and
once when they write it.”<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoSubtitle" style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;">Anaïs Nin.</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoSubtitle" style="text-align: center;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><b><br /></b><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p align="center" class="MsoSubtitle" style="text-align: center;"><b></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwcxm9sWDLDij9ew8tkh6yTpFKw3k05CxTy_6D2196W4u7AIG-jWUDwllv6ZUUgjzgjaUQ1_52Cxh-uXomPox9XeB2Y8TH8FkawwVeostaJBDGiKksWzrbKdp2m29F8QMf_bPZkpUzAjEAjxoGUCoDjnDn3h6LtH0ufcmCezLG1S0_avYYhRZaqJY/s3472/For%20Donna%20Info%20Essay%20!.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3472" data-original-width="2540" height="361" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNwcxm9sWDLDij9ew8tkh6yTpFKw3k05CxTy_6D2196W4u7AIG-jWUDwllv6ZUUgjzgjaUQ1_52Cxh-uXomPox9XeB2Y8TH8FkawwVeostaJBDGiKksWzrbKdp2m29F8QMf_bPZkpUzAjEAjxoGUCoDjnDn3h6LtH0ufcmCezLG1S0_avYYhRZaqJY/w263-h361/For%20Donna%20Info%20Essay%20!.jpg" width="263" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUCcreBC4PjeLqkQFIREPiOWXmTmMRpcOoH1-MJjl7uNCpDGmGENolJuN3JoKkMayTuzOc4CJPGdOEnwTakooy_qgvM-8mzaRCK7MciMbDXFNRAFyII9ZqN4jbG85fBEMfDi1-FApcbZEpPiaKi9HI-qnfgyU-BFTv-eHtgHjF2dACKhf8I-_MDFKM/s4000/books%202.jpg" style="font-weight: bold; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2267" data-original-width="4000" height="181" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUCcreBC4PjeLqkQFIREPiOWXmTmMRpcOoH1-MJjl7uNCpDGmGENolJuN3JoKkMayTuzOc4CJPGdOEnwTakooy_qgvM-8mzaRCK7MciMbDXFNRAFyII9ZqN4jbG85fBEMfDi1-FApcbZEpPiaKi9HI-qnfgyU-BFTv-eHtgHjF2dACKhf8I-_MDFKM/s320/books%202.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><br /></b></div><p></p></blockquote>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My friendship with literary archivist Dr. Donna Maynard has always been
interesting and continues to be fruitful. She was excited when she saw the
hundreds of notebooks on the shelves in my little writing room, which go back
through my fifty years as a working novelist. As she read through them
she realised that they mapped the 20 or
so novels and the short stories and poetry which have been my professional
preoccupation through that time..<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">She came
to a personal conclusion that these notebooks and the books themselves formed a
very interesting literary archive. Since then she has begun to map the
relationships between the notebooks and the books, cross-referencing them in a
way which somehow reflects the creative process of writing novels. In essence
this relationship between the notebooks and the novels would be an essential
part of any emerging archive.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">So,
part of this process has been our discussion about the individual novels and my
own stories of the process whereby they came about. I have found </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">myself telling her about the underlying story
of each novel in the creation of each novel, each story and each poem - the stories as it were of the uniqur creative process.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">It has
now emerged that an essential part of this process has been my self-imposed task of writing on
my blog an essay documenting the story of the creation of each of the novels and some of the
short stories and poems. These essays will be published week by week on my
blog/website and will eventually be collected together as part of the archive
and possibly make a book in themselves.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">This may take a year of so but it will be interesting and the collaboration with Donna is very inspiring.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">So far I have documented the stories of of the creation of five of the novels on my blog: </span><b><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Theft,
The Real Life Of Studs McGuire, Lizza, French</i><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Leave.</i></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><b> </b>and I am now
focusing on </span><b><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Under a Brighter Sky</i><span face="Arial, sans-serif">.</span></b></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">The Process:</span></i></span></h4><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> We began by considering my
first published work – <i><b>Theft,</b></i> a children’s novel from 1972<i>, </i>published
by<i> Corgi Transworld </i>(I wrote a story about this novel here on
the blog in an essay entitled ‘The 50 Year Novel.’) <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our consideration of this children’s novel was followed by another so-called young
adult novel, <i>The Real Life Of Studs McGuire</i> published by Hodder and
Stoughton. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Writing the essay about this book
focused my emerging understanding <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>of the
nature of friendship between boys as I observed the boys in my classes and my
own son growing and changing. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; line-height: 150%;">Then we focused on <i>Lizza,</i></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; line-height: 150%;"> my first young adult novel,<i> </i>published in 1987 b</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; line-height: 150%;">y
<i>Hodder Stoughton</i>, later transformed to Headline<i>. </i> At the time it was seen as my "breakthrough” novel, Lizza. And I thought
then - I think now that there is little or no difference
between young adult and an adult novel.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: medium;">Anyway, Donna and I examined both editions: of <i>Lizza</i> - the
hardback and the paperback. First we looked with new eyes at the hardback cover -
illustrated by Steve Braund – and admired it for its sensitivity and its own visual
storytelling arc. Then we compared this cover with the cover of the paperback
which, as you can see, is much sharper and more modern, but still very
appealing and charming in its own way.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Although I remember the novel very well I had almost forgotten the
details of the covers. Now a frisson of shock ripples through me as both
of these images began to remind me of myself at the particular time of
writing. On the hardback cover the biographical blurb reminds me of
myself at this time in 1987: a younger self that has faded deep into
the background of my life which in turn has faded into the background of in my
older life. See again here - in the words of my first great editor, Anne
Williams - </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">what it says about this
young, aspiring writer : #</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">"</span><span face="Arial Unicode MS, sans-serif"><i>Wendy Robertson is senior lecturer
in education at Sunderland Polytechnic. She has been writing since she was 16,
but because of a full-time career much of the writing remains unpublished. In
1973 her first novel Theft was published in paperback k by Corgi Transworld and
for several years she also wrote a weekly article on a variety of subjects for
the Northern Echo and she has published and she has had several stories
published in magazines.</i></span></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 14.2pt; margin-right: 40.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 40.2pt 0cm 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><span face=""Arial Unicode MS", sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 14.2pt; margin-right: 40.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 40.2pt 0cm 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><span face=""Arial Unicode MS", sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Wendy Robertson lives in a Victorian
house at the centre of Bishop Auckland, County Durham, which he loves because
yours is obsessively interested in what she calls “the past in the present.
What is reality and what is fantasy can never be disengaged’ she writes. “In my
writing I take this a stage further placing my magic imagination at the service
of the basic story which may be a well-rehearsed refrain.” She is married with
two grown-up children a boy and girl."<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 14.2pt; margin-right: 40.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 40.2pt 0cm 14.2pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><span face=""Arial Unicode MS", sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 40.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Well , dear reader, that was 40 years ago and was very true
of my life at the time, which was a combination of a very committed family life
and a very intense working life, where my long-term lifetime commitment to
writing had to be squashed in around college vacations, transporting children
to their schools, visiting museums and art galleries for my interest and for
their education. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 40.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 40.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">And so with the publication of </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; text-align: left;">Lizza </i><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;">by this major new publisher Headline, I was given permission to acknowledge that I was indeed a writer
and this allowed me at last to place the writing of stories to its proper place
at the centre of my life This meant tailing off my work in higher
education, where I had learnt a lot and which I had really enjoyed. In
reality I still sustained my commitment to education in that I transferred it
to running workshops and a pattern of mentoring new writers through many years.
I wrote about that here:</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 40.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><u style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; text-align: left;"> </u><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="text-align: left;"> </span><a href="http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/search?q=memoir" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; text-align: left;">http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/search?q=memoir</a></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 40.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large; line-height: 36px; text-align: left;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 40.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: large; line-height: 36px; text-align: left;">I could have written or expressed those same feelings this year and all the years since the publication of Lizza. You will find similar sentiments expressed throughout my blog posts here on Life Twice Tasted.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><o:p><span> </span></o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">But always at the entre of my life were my long novels, which I
went on to complete just about one every y</span></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: medium;">ear for the next couple of decades. I
became a novelist.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">One interesting thing about this 1987 blurb - forgotten by me
since then – are my quoted comments on the cover.<i>. </i></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 21.3pt; margin-right: 40.2pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 40.2pt 0cm 21.3pt; text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;"><i><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“What is reality and what is fantasy can never
be disengaged’ and “In my writing I take this a stage further placing my
magic imagination at the service of the basic story which may be a
well-rehearsed refrain.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;">I had forgotten that I had made this declaration on the cover of
<b>Lizza, </b>but now must say that I have continued to write and work from these
principles in all the decades since. Evidence for this commitment still exists
in many of my posts here on <i>Life Twice Tasted.</i> I have also preached
these principles in many of my writing workshops. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>See: </span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;">http:/</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 150%;"><a href="http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/search?q=memoir">http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/search?q=memoir</a><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif">Already we are finding and noting cross references between the
notebooks and the books themselves. This is an exciting process. The next novel
we are focusing on is </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Under a Brighter Sky</i><span face="Arial, sans-serif"> and the writing of this - as with all the novels to come - has
its own story. </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif">If you are interested you may read this essay next on the blog.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5q1pTtA1wrQP-U8tmVcywkr4D_3Ajm_ukY51oe07xL__kAXmntDyJrNxwTdv6eFHuRutftnYF7GQa1DPVJhbRPIMn1__yQCEdrk0Y_faR3twmQn1BWd15NJRwgwoWAypbu2FjjdksDOcSWiznVO7iSa_DG3MHefvEmb_wWK8mY3oJ7waJjv5uDHl2/s3788/For%20info%20Donna%20Project.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1927" data-original-width="3788" height="163" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5q1pTtA1wrQP-U8tmVcywkr4D_3Ajm_ukY51oe07xL__kAXmntDyJrNxwTdv6eFHuRutftnYF7GQa1DPVJhbRPIMn1__yQCEdrk0Y_faR3twmQn1BWd15NJRwgwoWAypbu2FjjdksDOcSWiznVO7iSa_DG3MHefvEmb_wWK8mY3oJ7waJjv5uDHl2/s320/For%20info%20Donna%20Project.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: black; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-51760479306603075322022-09-07T10:05:00.006+01:002022-09-15T15:12:32.017+01:00LIVING LIFE TWICE - LOVING FRANCE AND WRITING FRENCH LEAVE <p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Growing up
with France in the head.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">LOVING FRANCE AND WRITING FRENCH LEAVE :</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrnBgSBMhRuPtttcA7VS9awf5xkEPBQHrQnCe2A4MrPA7m0FNNO8tolMfq2hjnu38VVKXgpviAbReKnvNJzxu3rtpP1IzhhSdlmzzOEmif-ARqzpncybrWnuYDTTtb2PpceQE9Xwh-KiBAeByqldUuZD4nA58CnV5MV7d6x8id_u896xZv4nI6zDq/s4000/French%20Leave%20cover%20for%20blog.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="4000" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyrnBgSBMhRuPtttcA7VS9awf5xkEPBQHrQnCe2A4MrPA7m0FNNO8tolMfq2hjnu38VVKXgpviAbReKnvNJzxu3rtpP1IzhhSdlmzzOEmif-ARqzpncybrWnuYDTTtb2PpceQE9Xwh-KiBAeByqldUuZD4nA58CnV5MV7d6x8id_u896xZv4nI6zDq/w282-h212/French%20Leave%20cover%20for%20blog.jpg" width="282" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As
a child born during World War II and growing up in the years after I was very
much aware of the existence of France and Germany. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">As an early reader I read newspapers, in
imitation of my father Billy, whose chosen paper was the </span><i style="font-size: 14pt;">News Chronicle.</i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">
I found it easy to admire the brave French partisans who defended their country
from their powerful occupiers. In the years after the end of the war as well as
relishing of the victory, I read eagerly the tales of the liberation of France.
Even as quite small a child I felt lucky that Hitler didn’t get to walk down Whitehall
as he strode down the Champs-Élysées, swastikas flying.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My
sense of the existence of France and Germany took a richer and more informed
shape when I finally went to the grammar school at the age of 11. The so-called
Eleven Plus was a crude if effective generic IQ test across the whole
population which carried with it the reward of a well-resourced education. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So,
despite being the poorest of the poor, and living in a two-bedroomed house complete
with privy in a narrow street in a mining town in the North East, three of the four children in this family
passed the eleven plus for the grammar school. The fourth – my sweet brother
Tom, had been in hospital in the crucial year before and didn’t sit the test. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So,
at the age of eleven I entered the much revered grammar wearing the basic
uniform bought on tick from Doggart’s store. In this school the teachers wore caps
and gowns for assembly and the curriculum was geared towards white collar jobs
and the university. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
knew I had entered a new world when – in the first week - I met Mr Phorson,
head of French, who addressed my class only in French from the moment we entered
the classroom. I was to discover later that this was called the Phorson Method.
Interestingly this Method was experienced in the next generation by my daughter
Debora at her school, at the hands of her teacher Mrs Snow (<i>Madame la Neige</i>!)
who had had been a student of Mr Phorson when she was at Durham University. By
then he was a respected professor in the French at the University. A footnote here
might be that Debora now lives in France
and writes lyrically about her life there. (See <a href="http://www.lickedspoon.com/">www.lickedspoon.com</a> )<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 16.8pt; margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Through Mr Phorson’s meticulous teaching, by the
time I was 18 I was reading in French the works of <i>Guy de Maupassant</i> and
</span><i><span style="font-size: 11.5pt;">Honoré de</span></i><i><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> Balzac</span></i><span style="font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
and the poetry of <i>Verlaine </i>and <i>Rimbaud.</i> But truly there is
balance in all things. A couple of years
after meeting Mr Phorson I also fell
into the hands of Mr Thompson, head of German, and eventually was reading <i>Heinrich Heine</i>
and <i>Johann Wolfgang von Goethe</i> in German. At times I was bemused to
think that a country with such fine and sensitive literature as Germany could
fall into the trap of Nazi ideology<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Anyway,
here was I in my shabby uniform, walking to and to the grammar from my Little
Street house, becoming a serious European while many around me expressed their
distaste for Germans: the boys playing fight games labelled German’s ‘n
English, or Japs ‘n English with pretend guns, the girls turning up their nose
when I practised quoting Goethe.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">However
that feeling was mitigated for me as I absorbed the tenderness of <i>Heinrich
Heine</i> and shared the pain of a German soldier in as he froze on the Russian front in Heinrich Heine’s poem <i>Der
Viele Viele Schnee. <o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And
then there was a salutary experience in the 1950s when my German teacher Mr
Thompson introduced the class to a visiting German teacher from Dresden who had
experienced the wipe-out bombing in that beautiful city by Allied forces towards
the end of the war.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Anyway,
this growing access to the language and literature of both France and Germany served
me, you might say, as an early lesson about the complex nature of my European
identity.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">By
the time my third young adult novel <i>French Leave</i> was published, (still at
that time Hodder and Stoughton – not yet Headline…) in 1988 my son and daughter
were 22 and 24 respectively. You might say their childhood was my very long
practical study in the identity and world-view of both boys and girls.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So
it was a pleasure writing more closely in <i>French Leave</i> about a friendship
between two boys -Joe and his gypsy friend Skemmer as well as well as Joe’s
grandfather, who was part of their adventure. Never having had known either of
my grandfathers – or only having met
them in my imagination – it was great fun that as well as exploring the
relationship between Joe and Skemmer in that story I enjoyed inventing the
relationship between Joe and his grandfather who had experienced service in the
Second World War.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">When
I wrote <i>French Leave</i> I had only been to France once when husband and I crossed the channel and wandered
around Normandy in our blue Jaguar* with our friends Bob and Lil. It was a deep
pleasure for me to hear French as she is spoken and observe the norms and
practices of everyday life we explored the small towns. There were so many
non-textbook lessons now to learn here – not least one about food. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">One
outstanding memory was stopping in a small village in the mid-afternoon hoping
we could find some lunch. We stopped to get petrol in a garage and then walked
in to a workman’s café next door. The place smelled of food and spice and on its
long tables lay the detritus of finished
meal and empty wine bottles without their screw tops. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The
owner caught sight of us, ducked his head and said he was desolate that there
was no food left. At least I thought that was what he said. Then he shook his
head, open his arms wide and gestured for us to sit down at the end of the large
central table. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">He
only took a minute to clear the table of the empty bottles and plates. ‘Madame!’
He called across to the e woman who was
stacking the dishes at a long open hatch.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In
no time glasses and full bottles of wine were placed before us and in twenty minutes
<i>Madame </i>was bustling across with a tray on each arm, loaded with a large
omelette. Delicious. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">(* See also my poem Blue Jaguar on p44 in my collection <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B08XQQ16Q9/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1" target="_blank"><i>With Such Caution)</i></a></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Since
then I have enjoyed many such welcomes in many parts of France right down as
far as the Languedoc in the fae South West which, like my own north-east
England, has its own language which refuses to be put down.<b><o:p></o:p></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilA3bFN77SB6LNNvbto5TgoW9PT7JRYzTrsnwAhocmJVvuJD8l8uG9vrQcT_Cav5WtLGNVHge7zRNBbtqgEku2QeewsVWiFz2LW2fh59k1Wv-uX7z5uFCLoo36ihZ5gRmEIBTJxEvPm2vZjVJx1hM1BSNWob5n3n8YiiH36TXK5hgwHBqtU1gS59So/s3830/French%20Leave%202%20Portrait.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3830" data-original-width="2686" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilA3bFN77SB6LNNvbto5TgoW9PT7JRYzTrsnwAhocmJVvuJD8l8uG9vrQcT_Cav5WtLGNVHge7zRNBbtqgEku2QeewsVWiFz2LW2fh59k1Wv-uX7z5uFCLoo36ihZ5gRmEIBTJxEvPm2vZjVJx1hM1BSNWob5n3n8YiiH36TXK5hgwHBqtU1gS59So/s320/French%20Leave%202%20Portrait.jpg" width="224" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "MS Sans Serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">For you! A taste of French Leave</span></i></b><i><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "MS Sans Serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "MS Sans Serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">From Page 31<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "MS Sans Serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">(Joe has been chasing around trying to get the paperwork right
for his grandfather to travel to France.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 68.55pt;"><span face=""Agency FB",sans-serif" style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">Skemmer stood up. “And the woman said it might take ages to come, like?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 68.55pt;"><span face=""Agency FB",sans-serif" style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">“Yes”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 68.55pt;"><span face=""Agency FB",sans-serif" style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">Skemmer glanced around the garage, which was deserted. Old Pollard
must’ve gone out for his dinner. Skemmer pulled Joe into to the little corner
office. On the cluttered desk was a white telephone smeared almost black with grease.
The phone number was stuck on the front with a brown cracking Sellotape. He rang
Directory Enquiries and got a number, which he proceeded to dial. When somebody
answered the phone he started to speak. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 68.55pt;"><span face=""Agency FB",sans-serif" style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">It dawned on Joe that Skemmer was
pretending to be him.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 68.55pt;"><span face=""Agency FB",sans-serif" style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">“… It’s my grandad, like. He was in the war. D-Day. You know… Whether
you’re in Ely shut his number… What… Dying like… Only a few weeks to go. He wants
the see the place where he… Yeah, yeah! Anything you could do to hurry it up…
Why thanks like. That’s really good.” Then he gave the details, the addresses
and all. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 68.55pt;"><span face=""Agency FB",sans-serif" style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">As Skemmer slammed down the phone Joe noticed how black his nails were.
right down to the cuticles: how black the oil was in the very pores of the
skin. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 68.55pt;"><span face=""Agency FB",sans-serif" style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">‘I don’t know whether he was she was just giving me the mouth, but she
says she’ll watch out for it. Give it some kind of priority. Said she wasn’t
allowed to but…”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 68.55pt;"><span face=""Agency FB",sans-serif" style="color: #1f497d; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">Joe was mad that Skemmer knew exactly what to do. But he was curious as
well. How could somebody like Skemmer do all this? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-right: 68.55pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #1f497d; font-family: "MS Sans Serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text2;">…<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Cover
Copy of 1988 edition of French Leave<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Agency FB",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">“17-year-old Joe shares a
close friendship with his grandfather, Bob, and when the old man suggests a
trip to France the scene of his wartime experiences, Joe eager to go to. They
travel in Bob’s old banger, gaily painted by Joe’s gypsy mate, Skemmer, who
accompanies them. There the confident and enterprising Skemmer is an odd
companion for Joe, whose shyness and lack of direction a stumbling block for
this, his first trip to the continent and his encounter with a friendly
outgoing American girl. A little rivalry, memories of truck tragic past and a
real present-day crisis also to help you learn more about himself, to establish
his first relationship with a girl, and come to terms with his uneasy family </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">situation.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Publisher’s
Biography on the cover of <i>French Leave</i>: <i>“ ‘Wendy Robertson has
written to other novels for teenagers Lizza, and The Real Life Of Studs Mcguire.
Of that novel the review magazine Growing Point has written</i></span><i><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">: ‘The Real Life Of Studs McGuire states fair and square in an urban
dilemma in an up-to-date setting and through strongly contemporary characters…
The action is swift and exciting enough to carry the message to those who read </span></i><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">it</span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">I like
to think that the same may be said of French Leave. </span><span style="font-size: medium;">Wx</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">I like
to think that the same may be said of <b>French Leave</b>. Wx<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"> </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Amazingly
it seems that copies of <i>French Leave</i> is still available through the magic
of the Internet - albeit without its wonderful cover. If you are interested, you
can find it here:</span></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><a href="https://www.abebooks.co.uk/servlet/BookDetailsPL?bi=1363697073&clickid=RHq3yCxkbxyNUrI3HI1nmWcDUkDR5LzZNRmoWs0&cm_mmc=aff-_-ir-_-66692-_-77416&ref=imprad66692&afn_sr=impact" style="font-size: 9pt;">https://www.abebooks.co.uk/servlet/BookDetailsPL?bi=1363697073&clickid=RHq3yCxkbxyNUrI3HI1nmWcDUkDR5LzZNRmoWs0&cm_mmc=aff-_-ir-_-66692-_-77416&ref=imprad66692&afn_sr=impact</a></span><b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Afterthought. </span></span></b><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> In combing through my shelves for this new </span></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">'Tasting Life
Twice' Project I have come across two versions of the French language edition of
</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large; text-align: left;">French Leave</i><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">, so thought I you might like to see the covers.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqJu5p2_M8hCD9bfakBZCEoGSJvXSMQ9tKjJF1pFCOYuKDAVABPPnKg4cgRcTqivVag36lgSo5EogZ-7DJNvum85QrXr9rap-hfmeNILjPeqTLn4gSx1TySXFh4hS6pms_C6KAvtDFcgwsuG5eR-Lv846snANqK00qlSyIvleQhwy1HWcnOkfH05d/s3015/French%20Leave%20Frencg%20Edition.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3015" data-original-width="2129" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgqJu5p2_M8hCD9bfakBZCEoGSJvXSMQ9tKjJF1pFCOYuKDAVABPPnKg4cgRcTqivVag36lgSo5EogZ-7DJNvum85QrXr9rap-hfmeNILjPeqTLn4gSx1TySXFh4hS6pms_C6KAvtDFcgwsuG5eR-Lv846snANqK00qlSyIvleQhwy1HWcnOkfH05d/s320/French%20Leave%20Frencg%20Edition.jpeg" width="226" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvrPhYUcsc_NOQ3IdYE0t_hikja0bOKSBJM0YHEkFnS-GIbAMCFJ9efs2mZVPsAuuDvee63Pn-aF2OAwS4iCrXtzggwQSIS4ANX5-9EWxwZWTjop-QJAeoluBsWEDzfCTHRr0hEaasC4b6G5w7MseVo4DIlUVMm6ojKjr3Y6OzkijSnheUz3QHllH/s3264/French%20Leave%20French%20Edition.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3264" data-original-width="2448" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwvrPhYUcsc_NOQ3IdYE0t_hikja0bOKSBJM0YHEkFnS-GIbAMCFJ9efs2mZVPsAuuDvee63Pn-aF2OAwS4iCrXtzggwQSIS4ANX5-9EWxwZWTjop-QJAeoluBsWEDzfCTHRr0hEaasC4b6G5w7MseVo4DIlUVMm6ojKjr3Y6OzkijSnheUz3QHllH/s320/French%20Leave%20French%20Edition.jpeg" width="240" /></a></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></p><h4 style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: medium;">Perhaps it's also worth noting here in this essay that two of my later novels – <i>Writing at the Maison Bleue </i>and <i>An Englishwoman in France</i> also take place in this France that still sits in my head ... Wx</span></h4><p class="MsoNormal"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><p></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-56845976817337678972022-08-18T14:59:00.001+01:002022-08-18T17:23:05.412+01:00A Present Day Encounter with Susanah in Riches of the Earth - my First adult novel.<p style="text-align: right;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.6667px;"> </span></p>
<p class="Default" style="text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4LqYLKHo7oUAoEf-3r62ueHOVE2iO3z7WewFAGQzBjQBg-1foYikjh9XJBtIegh8Cj-yKOIFTN_Do261f4hNA8uD3KfYoF3Ul4pNgel0WFxiExbtad48Wa4CX-VofvW66S9_tzxhQDqIQzRlo45chEBRWaF-bJ_3VWf_DwS1QKdHC4aRRpRH0DDe/s266/Riches%20PB.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="162" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA4LqYLKHo7oUAoEf-3r62ueHOVE2iO3z7WewFAGQzBjQBg-1foYikjh9XJBtIegh8Cj-yKOIFTN_Do261f4hNA8uD3KfYoF3Ul4pNgel0WFxiExbtad48Wa4CX-VofvW66S9_tzxhQDqIQzRlo45chEBRWaF-bJ_3VWf_DwS1QKdHC4aRRpRH0DDe/w127-h210/Riches%20PB.webp" width="127" /></a></div><p></p><p class="Default" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">By
1990, I had worked for more than a decade in teacher education at<br /> Sunderland
(then a Polytechnic, now a University), having thrown myself into the
fascinating but very hard work of educating teachers and focusing on the inner
and outer lives of children. I loved the job. Always the idealist, I was very
committed of the thrilling process of encouraging new teachers in the practice
of child-centred education. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Default" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">This
principled process involved creating a classroom ethos where children had the
time and space to engage in the world of school by interacting through language
and creativity which allowed their unique identities to evolve in the universe
of the classroom. Learning to read and write and to handle knowledge and
information was integral to this process. In doing so the individual child would
make progress within the primary curriculum.</span></p>
<p class="Default" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">In
those days I was critical of the highly centralised French and German education
systems where I learned, the educational progress of every child is monitored,
noted, and reported to the central authority. And in primary schools across each
country on any given day pupils would be going through the same routines of the
curriculum.</span></p>
<p class="Default" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">A
free spirit myself, for me in those days, markers for success for the children should
be measured through the development of talking, reading and writing skills which
fostered the personal confidence that should emerge through their experience in
the classroom,</span></p>
<p class="Default" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">In
the field of mathematics, for instance. success was measured as the individual
child develops problem solving strategies and skills, using observation and the
use of evidence.</span></p>
<p class="Default" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">In
those idealistic days monitoring a child’s educational achievements was</span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> not</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">
dependent on centrally set exams and boxes being ticked so the child could be
judged.. The idea then was that, with the help of a teacher in a creative
classroom, each child should experience avenues to fulfil her or his own unique
potential.</span></p>
<p class="Default" style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">But
things have changed now. Today the practice of education is very different. What
counts as education in these days is the crucial and sometimes destructive
dependence on the centrally monitored system of tests and exams and boxes to be
ticked and applied to children as young as seven.</span></p>
<p class="Default" style="break-before: page; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">In time, working as a lecturer basing my work
on my ideal principles drained a great deal of both my emotional and
intellectual energy, including as it did the supervision of the students
actually working in classrooms right across the north-east. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Default" style="break-before: page; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt;">Eventually I became tired and debilitated and
rather sank into depression. I was told. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Give your brain a body a rest, Wendy.” So
that was why I came to leave the profession which I had relished so much.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="Default" style="break-before: page; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">After a period of recuperation and rest,
inevitably a new story started </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">to edge
itself into my consciousness. Creativity abhors a vacuum. So it was that out of
this jellylike morass emerges Susanah, my heroine, and around her, my first
adult novel.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;">Reading <i>Riches of the Earth</i> now I
realise that I had been distilling from my subconscious the voices, events and
characters from my own rather troubled childhood when I experienced my day-to-day
life with great intensity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I see now
that this intense inner reference came to inform and enrich my novels and
stories as the years have rolled on.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;"></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;">For example,<i> take Riches of The Earth</i>
- my first adult novel. As I read it now, the context and some of the feelings
expressed in its pages bring to my mind my most recent book, <i>Siblings</i>, a
short story collection written nearly 3 decades later than <i>Riches of the
Earth</i>. It dawns on me now that this applies to most of my subsequent novels
and stories.</span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;">However, I would emphasise that I do not tell
the same story in every novel; it is much more complex than that. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In writing my fiction I am dipping into a complex
multi-layered world buried deep within me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As the years have gone by I have this process has been a strong element
in my fiction. (<i>I have written essays elsewhere here on Life Twice Tasted
about this mirage-like border between memoir and fiction.</i>) </span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;">And now I am I am beginning to realise that, in
collaboration with my friend literary archivist Donna Maynard, in this process
of the exploration of all my work, I am rediscovering myself as a writer and a
human being.</span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;">I honestly don’t remember thinking about all
this as I wrote the novel. Like each of my novels <i>Riches of the Earth</i> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>flowed from my head through my arm into the
ink and onto the page. It is dawning on me now that my academic research and my
understanding of children and their thought processes filters through into the
novel, as it was very much part of my recent life at that time. My instinctive insight
into the lives of my evolving characters was nurtured by and grounded in my
professional insights and principles. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">So-o-o, here I am recognising that, in
writing all my novels, I was then and have been since influenced by my own
contemporaneous experience of family life as well as my research – lending
sociological and psychological insight alongside the instinct and commitment to
what my characters would do next. I do remember loving my characters who
reminded me of my own growing children and also the young people who had filled
my professional world for so long.</span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;">Having completed <i>Riches of the Earth</i> I was
delighted that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the prestigious publisher
Headline – then newly established - wished to publish the novel when I first
offered it. Once there I welcomed the support and insight of my editor, the wise
and gifted Anne Williams <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She guided and
supported with me on my journey through a good number of books. I felt I was in
very good hands until she moved on to higher things, eventually taking on her
present role as a respected agent. Her writers are very lucky. My next editor -
Harriet Evans – a talented writer herself, was also very supportive of my
novels as they emerged. Interestingly, Harriet has proceeded to become a very much-admired
novelist in her own right.</span><br /><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;"><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;">At this point I need to continue the
discussion which I started in the last essay on <i>Life Twice Tasted</i> about
the significance of covers. Delighted as I was at the time that <i>Riches of
the Earth</i> was to be published.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the
original hardback cover – although it seemed like a bit of magic at the time –
now looks predictable and stereotyped and not really true to the energy of the
narrative. You will see this included here. However, you will also see that the
cover of the paperback, published in the same year, is infinitely better than
the hardback cover. Susanah’s face at the top is alive and has a sharp
contemporary feel. The World War I aeroplanes on the front and back cover offer
a predictive reference to the role of World War I in the narrative. Altogether
the paperback cover has much greater energy and narrative reference,<br /></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFn2fbUVt1HprlABxgvbVeUrcI0X4tL2iaU_hGOIgi_BpFTfVg8tJ_yhtILbjMBC-1ZarP7Q5-spjAzkMXHbOpxpiyjJeMoE9E5iX-spqTRCm8CapP_DS-CsXKzRIZvKutZl_j9xup2Lf-0I8Wf107seEC97GiI7mK7lvvG0amkpF5pOJ7YLyPKZ14/s4000/Riches%20Portrait.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFn2fbUVt1HprlABxgvbVeUrcI0X4tL2iaU_hGOIgi_BpFTfVg8tJ_yhtILbjMBC-1ZarP7Q5-spjAzkMXHbOpxpiyjJeMoE9E5iX-spqTRCm8CapP_DS-CsXKzRIZvKutZl_j9xup2Lf-0I8Wf107seEC97GiI7mK7lvvG0amkpF5pOJ7YLyPKZ14/w219-h293/Riches%20Portrait.jpg" width="219" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_x2-us1qY_thIllKgarkHeHkuI1tbdMWOd5n8wf2rDZBeGb_S4Zo_dB0ZCyIgZI2Aq7qJ0RAXvPOEGwKPBgucuvlksupCsDHu28lTZe8OvVWU3T5Vn9chaoUCRQz3JcRWXnHLjIp2SY0tmB_lS3bE0nrLdkswUzWhpTKK307DzjGAFn8mMZdTRXQ/s266/Riches%20PB.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="162" height="312" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht_x2-us1qY_thIllKgarkHeHkuI1tbdMWOd5n8wf2rDZBeGb_S4Zo_dB0ZCyIgZI2Aq7qJ0RAXvPOEGwKPBgucuvlksupCsDHu28lTZe8OvVWU3T5Vn9chaoUCRQz3JcRWXnHLjIp2SY0tmB_lS3bE0nrLdkswUzWhpTKK307DzjGAFn8mMZdTRXQ/w190-h312/Riches%20PB.webp" width="190" /></a></div></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;"><b>So,</b> as I read <i>Riches of the Earth</i> again after more than thirty years,
I enjoy afresh revisiting the varied characters as they live their lives
from1895 right through to 1914, culminating with the international shock of the
First World War. As with novels written during the following decades, many
issues precious to me are woven into the narratives – identity, class, war,
comradeship, women’s lives, the nature of work, family politics, birth, death,
and here in this novel, pacifism.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">In this and further novels I observe myself as a kind of ghost in my own
family, going back through the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, dipping into
my Welsh, Scottish and Irish heritage. It seemed to me that in this novel,
Susanah, the central character. and Caradoc her father are particularly recognisable.
I can see myself clearly dipping into my own Welsh heritage and particular perceptions
of family life politics.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">In </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Riches of the Earth</i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> I observe that the pattern of power and
control in the family is threaded through the narrative arc of the novel as it
is in further novels. I note with retrospective approval that in this narrative
as well as the others I have not been reduced to stereotypes or sentimental
image is of north-eastern family life.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><o:p> I</o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">ncidentally in reading the book again I am
also reminded that I have alluded to an historically true event - within the
fictional narrative. This is when a young soldier hitches a ride with a pilot
who is flying reconnaissance over the battlefield. The boy is amazed as he
looks down at the River Somme spread out below him in the French landscape.
This incident was inspired by a detail from my research into letters, memoirs
and personal histories from that time. Like other true elements, it serves to
enhance the authenticity of in my fictional story – </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">all emerging
from my deep research into contextual sources which provides and continues to
provide deep realism into what are fictional narratives in all my novels.</span></p>
<h1><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lastly, for your further interest I have included here below the synopsis - probably
created by Anne Williams – of the story from the cover of the hardback. It is </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Calibri",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;">an excellent example of a
well-written synopsis. Here it is:<o:p></o:p></span></span></h1>
<h1><i><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">When, in 1895, the Laydon Joneses
move into Selby Street they are just another Welsh family who have come to work
in the mines of County Durham. But Caradoc Laydon Jones, dour, unforgiving and in
his spare time a genius of clockmaker, is a force to be reckoned with, whether
it be down the pit, or in the chapel, or in his home where he rules with an
iron fist. His daughter Susanah has inherited his strength but will not, she is
determined take on his bitterness. And Jonty Clelland the young pacifist
schoolmaster by whom she is increasingly intrigued, is the antithesis of her
father. At the annual young people’s camp in Livesey Woods it looks as if the
attraction between Jonty and Susanah might finally blossom into love - until
tragedy intervenes. The news is brought that Susanah’s younger sister has been
drowned in the colliery pool and before long her timid mother, who had never learned
to speak the language of the English has followed her into her grave.</span></i></h1><h1><i><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">Overwhelmed by guilt, Susanna is
left to look after her grief- maddened father and a handful of brothers, estranging
herself from the man whose arms were around her as a little sister drowned. And
when her vivacious friend Betty died in childbirth, leaving her husband, local
football hero Mervyn Sargant, alone with a tiny baby, Susanah knows what she must
do. Without fuss she adopts the child and, at his pleading, finally agrees to
marry the broken Mervyn. But as the country enters the nightmare of the First
World War, Susannah, prompted by her warm hearted Aunt Bel, begins to realise
that life was to be seized and lived – that she, as much as those she loves,
has a right to all the riches of the earth has to offer.”</span></i></h1>
<h1 style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 115%;">“A vividly textured novel,
steeped in the passions and the politics of the north-east, which is the of the
Earth is Wendy Robertson’s first novel.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="color: black; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-themecolor: text1;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-407537780110790742022-07-29T13:17:00.001+01:002022-07-30T12:59:13.710+01:00Language, Power and Studs McGuire<p><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">Decades ago I was working as a senior lecturer, running a complex
household of hard-working husband and two talented, resourceful children,
keeping an eye on my clever mother, and – as well as this – working on my
Master’s degree in Education.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">And I was loving all of this</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">My research was entitled Language and Power. As well as the historical
and theoretical aspects of this research I completed the practical element at a
Teesside secondary school. The school had an outstanding head teacher, the
late, great Malcolm Glenn, who was eventually an eminent HMI. Malcolm was a
liberal-minded and forward - thinking educator and this – the location of my
research - was a very happy and very successful school.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">My research made use of qualitative method - interviews and
conversations with eleven - to fifteen-year-old pupils - to discover how these
children perceived and experienced the power structures within that school.
Location was important; I interviewed and spoke with pupils only in the
corridors and obscure corners of the school - specifically not in places which
signified the concrete power of that institution such as classrooms, staff
rooms et cetera.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">The eventual merging all this loose qualitative material into a viable
research document was a complex writing experience, incorporating the making of
significant links in the data, formulating ideas and ultimately writing a
coherent document.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">In later years, as I proceeded to write and publish a string of novels,
it dawned on me that this research and writing process had not been dissimilar
to writing a long novel. It also dawned on me that in this academic process of
writing up my research I was - without intention -honing my novel-writing
skills: these two aspects of my creative experience were merging in an
interesting way.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">In Malcolm Glenn’s school, relationships between adults and children are
open and mutually respectful, so the children and young people here accept me
as I walk around in the school with my notebook and my odd questions. I think
they quite like loitering in corners talking to this strange woman.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">One time a tall, heavily built boy comes up to me and says “Hey Miss!
You’ll want to talk to me!” His voice is surprisingly deep.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I look up at him. He is half a head taller than me.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Pen hovering over my notebook, I ask his name. This is always my first
question,</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">“Me name is Stewart,” he says. “But you can call me Studs. They all call
me Studs.”</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">In time I was pleased to deliver my research, nicely bound in black
leather, which qualified me for my master’s degree. Afterwards I was flattered
when my supervisor invited me to proceed to a PhD. I thought hard about it and
decided not to take this path, as I was now working on my third published
children’s novel, after which I was planning to embark on my first adult novel.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">And now, decades later in this ongoing review of all my novels and
stories that I am working on with my friend Donna M, we come to the novel
called <i>The Real Life of Studs McGuire.</i> </span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">(Published 1987).<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">In working on this book as I was developing my main character – a tough
resilient boy who vows to revenge his friends – I remembered the boy in
Malcolm’s school called Stuart, the boy who stopped me in the corridor while I
was wearing my researcher’s hat and said, <i>“My name is Stewart but you
can call me Studs.”</i> This was when, trusting my instinct, I borrowed
his name and perhaps something of his personality for my main character in this
new novel - Studs McGuire.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">The naming of characters is so important in fiction. I’m now
thinking about the issue of naming for my most recent collection <i>Siblings</i>. </span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">(Published in 2021)</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">. For this
collection I pored over academic sources of Welsh and Scottish names for the seven
brothers and sisters, each of whom has a story in the collection set in 1922. I
wanted names that would reflect their Celtic heritage. The chosen names reflect
the unique nature of each character whose story is being
told. </span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Now, as Donna M and I handle the book called <i>The Real Life of
Studs McGuire,</i> we note that the cover art has some resemblance to the
cover art of <i>Theft,</i> my first published children’s novel. (See
earlier post about <i>Theft</i>.) In each case the visual story arcs are
very similar. There is such energy and implicit knowledge of children’s life
there, as the action surges to the centre front of the cover. And the urgency
within the narrative is reflected in the illustrators’ images for the two
books. It is only all these years later that Donna M. points out to me that the
artwork for both of these covers was by the artist Steve Braund.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">You might be interested that I republished <i>The Real Life of
studs McGuire</i> in 2014. This was an interesting exercise but I still
prefer Steve Braund’s artwork to my own concept for the new cover which is it
must be admitted modern, sharp, and dramatic. What do you think?</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I have to say that I am realising now this journey with Donna M. through
the sequence of my novels maps my writing life in all its aspects. It is all proving
very exciting. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">And afternote</span></b><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">: you might be
interested in the different cover copy on each of these editions.</span><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><u><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">1987 Edition of The Real Life of
Studs McGuire</span></u><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KEv1pAdxXeHOTn3wfrWfP1Sw6bviCUVm-tOyfojXTpvVeJsUy67emTOG6zuem5oxzbJibXIQ1OodFh6pNYzweeBBIp3X566hIYzUovTlFi8FiLSvczctsItYd4oVA0BMM0QrDWK7QjYL9NHtrLWEcezm-TFEi6-iRh_qdoLdaCDitYS31QN1YcnT/s500/Studa%201987.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4KEv1pAdxXeHOTn3wfrWfP1Sw6bviCUVm-tOyfojXTpvVeJsUy67emTOG6zuem5oxzbJibXIQ1OodFh6pNYzweeBBIp3X566hIYzUovTlFi8FiLSvczctsItYd4oVA0BMM0QrDWK7QjYL9NHtrLWEcezm-TFEi6-iRh_qdoLdaCDitYS31QN1YcnT/s320/Studa%201987.jpg" width="205" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Studs McGuire is
determined to find out the identity of the kids responsible for taking his
friend. Tony on a drugs trip. As a result, Tony lies unconscious near to death
in hospital and studs is set for revenge. And then comes Nova – and studs that
never met anyone like this girl before. We’ll never cooperate with him on his
quest to find the loathsome flicker with his punk followers, The quest is a
dangerous one, but still feels Tony’s very life depends on the outcome. </span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 55.2pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Available<a href="https://childrensbookshop.com/book-86777.html"><b><span style="color: #a56e3d;"> HERE</span></b><span style="color: #a56e3d;"> </span></a><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 55.2pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_pcbOWZotPxZHqGYOt55YhsEjhHLF9beyoTl4nkRxs8aVuD43-RfzKSpzQQcSeDPPIIL2MaZBSg06Qy_2w7D_j54b9S-m8P-mttGABT5BQkXvTdcWzNnaD1P1LWR42GsWGJ7gUBiTE9ajTDX3JytrnNketR_ZMMav-ue3ijUOVjcmuaz7GADZNtTQ/s400/Studs%202014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="267" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_pcbOWZotPxZHqGYOt55YhsEjhHLF9beyoTl4nkRxs8aVuD43-RfzKSpzQQcSeDPPIIL2MaZBSg06Qy_2w7D_j54b9S-m8P-mttGABT5BQkXvTdcWzNnaD1P1LWR42GsWGJ7gUBiTE9ajTDX3JytrnNketR_ZMMav-ue3ijUOVjcmuaz7GADZNtTQ/s320/Studs%202014.jpg" width="214" /></a></div><br /><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><u><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">2014 Edition of the real life of
Studs McGuire:</span></u></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 55.2pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">“Maybe I can do
that, Studs.” Tony’s voice squeaked a bit but he coughed and said, “See you
then! In a deeper tone. He turned round and banged out of the café followed by
his two advisers. Almost instantly the rest of the kids in the corner stood up
and trickled out. The big lad called Sligger averted his eyes as he passed
Studs in the girl.</span></i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-right: 69.4pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto; text-align: center;"><i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Available <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Real-Life-Studs-McGuire-Avenge-ebook/dp/B00JOCIPUM" target="_blank"><b><span style="color: #a56e3d;">HERE </span></b></a></span></i><span style="color: #666666; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-50569399757059822082022-07-09T17:43:00.012+01:002022-08-07T15:27:07.713+01:00The Evolution of my crossover novel, LIZZA<p style="text-align: left;"></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I have been working with my great friend the literary academic
Donna Maynard on an archive project, which she hopes will link my hundreds of
notebooks with the succession of novels which have been published over my name
in the last 50 years. The process will take a year or so but should prove
interesting.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">We began by considering my first published work – Theft, a children’s
novel from 1972<i>, </i>published by<i> Corgi Transworld </i>(Scroll
down to read a post here called ‘The 50 Year Novel.’) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">And now Donna and I are considering <i>Lizza,</i> my young
adult novel, published in 1987 by Hodder $ Stoughton. We examined both
editions: of <i>Lizza </i>- the hardback and the paperback editions.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">First, we look with
fresh eyes at the hardback cover - illustrated by Steve Braund. I admire
it for its sensitivity and its own storytelling arc.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTM3AYUdrRSphVc8wTZQ5e4q9_qfaqDssan5SCi0k7z3lCRCUOQ6ef3ZN7R0aU_C-g6UV91HAJ8gSD5NoW2__bOaMZ7p4XAPbtq0YO5oIgjPsQCKuQW2Ibh1PMVfj3-QaPa1UZ392LBV000zPvgC0HUWUQa3p0utB_gTw_do1FB8iH9AhOhRR_PBZs/s500/Lizza%20Harbavk%20Cover.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="363" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTM3AYUdrRSphVc8wTZQ5e4q9_qfaqDssan5SCi0k7z3lCRCUOQ6ef3ZN7R0aU_C-g6UV91HAJ8gSD5NoW2__bOaMZ7p4XAPbtq0YO5oIgjPsQCKuQW2Ibh1PMVfj3-QaPa1UZ392LBV000zPvgC0HUWUQa3p0utB_gTw_do1FB8iH9AhOhRR_PBZs/s320/Lizza%20Harbavk%20Cover.jpg" width="232" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Then we compare this with the cover of the paperback which, as you can
see, is much sharper and more modern, but still very appealing and
charming in its own way. But after forty-five years, although I remember the
novel very well, I had almost forgotten the details of the covers.</span></div><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/3501702437500544780/5056939975705982208"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: blue; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-no-proof: yes; text-decoration: none; text-underline: none;"><br /></span></a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYb071HY07jiwcXULi0SxPyjxg-Lg7obXztS6rotsydd84Hpn1_sa6xuU21W4KHlcpBp2FrrpI29qSkmZtGadyz8oAylZITgz42wp8T8TQY-vqFhTUhVdnaoHJ0mRcgSnBR-79559YfUbjJoG8x-a-IuUp9YMPTi9E7m9yq0g4gqj0nfZu_FbsHlP-/s3409/Lizza%20Cover%20full%20image.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3409" data-original-width="2253" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYb071HY07jiwcXULi0SxPyjxg-Lg7obXztS6rotsydd84Hpn1_sa6xuU21W4KHlcpBp2FrrpI29qSkmZtGadyz8oAylZITgz42wp8T8TQY-vqFhTUhVdnaoHJ0mRcgSnBR-79559YfUbjJoG8x-a-IuUp9YMPTi9E7m9yq0g4gqj0nfZu_FbsHlP-/s320/Lizza%20Cover%20full%20image.jpg" width="211" /></a></div><br /><!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Now a frisson of
shock ripples through me as the details of these covers remind me of
myself at the particular time of writing. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">On the hard-back edition, the biographical blurb reminds me of myself at
this time in 1987: a younger self that bedded herself deep into the background
of my present day. life. Here - in the words of my first great
editor, Anne Williams - is what the cover says about this young, aspiring
writer: <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">“Wendy Robertson is senior lecturer in education at Sunderland
Polytechnic. She has been writing since she was 16, but because of a full-time
career much of the writing remains unpublished. In 1973 her first novel Theft
was published in paperback k by Corgi Transworld and for several years she also
wrote a weekly article on a variety of subjects for the Northern Echo and she
has published and she has had several stories published in magazines.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 14.2pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; text-align: left; text-indent: 35.45pt;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">"Wendy Robertson lives in a Victorian house at the centre of Bishop
Auckland, County Durham, which he loves because yours is obsessively interested
in what she calls <i>‘the past in the present. What is reality and what is
fantasy can never be disengaged,’</i> she writes. ‘<i>In my writing I take
this a stage further placing my magic imagination at the service of the basic
story which may be a well-rehearsed refrain. </i>She is married with two
grown-up children, a boy and girl.”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Dear reader, I still live in that same house. Lizza came out forty
odd years ago and this statement was very true of my life at the time, which
was a combination of a very committed family life and a very intense working
life, where my long-term lifetime commitment to writing had to be squashed in
around college vacations, transporting children to their schools, visiting
museums and art galleries for my interest and for their education. Also at
the time I was involved with the early stages of Women’s Liberation. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">And so it was that with the publication of<i> Lizza</i> by
this major publisher I was finally given permission to acknowledge that I was
indeed a writer which would allow me at last to place the writing of stories to
their proper place at the centre of my life. (Lizza - a so-called 'young adult'
novelm- proved to be my crossover novel between children's fiction and adult
fiction.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">This meant tailing off my work in higher education, where I had learnt a
lot and which I had really enjoyed. In reality I still went on to sustain
my commitment to education in that I transferred this to the running of writing
workshops and a commitment to mentoring new writers <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">But always at the centre of my life were my long novels, which I went on
to complete at the rate of just about one every year for the next couple of
decades. I had certainly become a novelist.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">One interesting thing about this 1987 blurb – as I say, forgotten by me
since then – are my quoted comments on the cover:<i> </i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">‘What is reality and what is fantasy can never be disengaged.’
And “In my writing I take this a stage further placing my magic
imagination at the service of the basic story which may be a well-rehearsed
refrain.’</span></i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I had forgotten that I had made this declaration on the cover of Lizza,
but now I must say that I have continued to write and work from these
principles in all the decades since. Evidence for this commitment still exists
in many of my posts here on <i>Life Twice Tasted.</i> I have also
preached these principles in many of my writing workshops.
Check <a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/3501702437500544780/5056939975705982208"><span style="color: blue;">here </span></a><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I am sure I have written or expressed those same feelings this year
and in all the years since the publication of <i>Lizza.</i> You
will find similar principles expressed throughout my blog posts. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I am looking forward to collaborating with Donna in creating and
documenting this archive. And in the process I will learn a good deal about
myself and my writing life. In short it will be another story taking its place
in the the web of stories which constitute this writer’s life.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]-->
<!--[endif]--><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">For your possible interest<u> <b><i><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/3501702437500544780/5056939975705982208"><span style="color: blue;">check here for</span></a> </i></b></u> a list of
my Publications:-<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: black; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><p></p></div>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-19425471782063401912022-06-19T19:51:00.000+01:002022-06-19T19:51:44.815+01:00Father's Day Memories <h2 style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #783f04; font-size: large;"> On the evening of Father's Day I am remembering my own Daddy, Billy Wetherill, who died when I was nine years old when my life changed radically. But he still remains lodged near my heart two generations later. I wrote this poem about him and published it in my collection <i>With Such Caution.</i> You might like it.</span></h2><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><h4 style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">4 Billy: A Daughter’s Tale<br /></span></b><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">We
walked along, your giant’s hand in mine, long fingers poking inside
my hand-knitted sleeve.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">Remember
the nights she left the house for work?<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">You
sat and read the paper as I scaled your knee<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">settling,
birdlike, into that rustling space.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">Remember
how we cut out pictures<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">and
pasted them into the Panjandrum book?<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">Remember
how you read us stories -<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">your
voice going up and down<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">like
the waves of the sea?<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">So
very sorry you don’t know my youngest –<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">like
you he’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>highly numerate - you<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">did
not see him standing tall for Tai Kwan Do<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <br />
</span></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">(white
clad and obliquely oriental)<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">or
cricket-ready, complete with pads<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">and helmet
and faceguard protection.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">It’s a
lifetime since I passed your dying age<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">of
thirty seven,. And now I contemplate<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">how
very young you were<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">you
abandoned your life and mine,<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">when -
to my nine-year self - you seemed eternal.<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">It has
taken two generations<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">between
then and now<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for me<br /> </span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 115%;">to
ventilate<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the retrospective pain<br /></span><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 150%;">of
losing you too soon.<br /></span></span></h4><h3 style="text-align: left;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 150%;"><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></o:p></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 107%;">My
father died when I was nine and I see now that our relationship was the
template for my whole life.</span></i></h3><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><i> </i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: 13.3333px; mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="line-height: 107%;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div><div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7V5Q7ZDfpyHPLHCbDX5M_euCwIiIoJyeOzOJkHZTubNaU1TONUGBMl89VKcdtB0wOrD0MPqMPo3mE_u1DO76jYvJ6GJg2LjKuGl7hJ5GNYxNeuHsJTZuwTv_GYEYu7g90HcyAN4UeCDn3GgrkVSlNoUpPpgk1hS8aVOQEbVX1owod16vNrug5-Rr/s1493/With%20Such%20Caution.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1493" data-original-width="1086" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw7V5Q7ZDfpyHPLHCbDX5M_euCwIiIoJyeOzOJkHZTubNaU1TONUGBMl89VKcdtB0wOrD0MPqMPo3mE_u1DO76jYvJ6GJg2LjKuGl7hJ5GNYxNeuHsJTZuwTv_GYEYu7g90HcyAN4UeCDn3GgrkVSlNoUpPpgk1hS8aVOQEbVX1owod16vNrug5-Rr/s320/With%20Such%20Caution.jpeg" width="233" /></a></div> </i></div><div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> On Amazon: http://tiny.cc/awpsuz</i></div><div><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><br /><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></i></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-77675583818242608472022-06-16T12:54:00.002+01:002022-06-16T12:55:20.098+01:00New Aspects of Personal Freedom<h4 style="margin-left: 35.45pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"> One consequence of these last three years - involving as they
have the destructive and distrantimg advent of Covid in addition to an
increasingly disabled partner needing 24/7 personal care - is that I have only rarely
been able to get out of the house. In consequence the world outside
of my door has become a mysterious unvisited place.</span></h4><h4 style="margin-left: 35.45pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><br /><span style="line-height: 115%;">Any time to give attention to my lifetime vocation for creative writing
has been squeezed into only very small spaces. Even so I have managed to use
these spaces to complete a collection of newly conceived short stories – <i>Siblings</i>
– and as well to nurture them into a broadcast over Christmas in collaboration
with Bishop FM. As well as this I have embedded the short stories into a book
which is now available on Amazon. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> (The post below describes this process.)</span></span></span></h4><h4 style="margin-left: 35.45pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span><span style="line-height: 115%;">But I suspect that now, perhaps, things are changing. I have
managed to organise two afternoons a week when the very competent C will mind
both house and partner for two hours. In this time I can be my own self,
walking in the park, walking on the High Street, drinking coffee in a café. And
writing.<br /></span><span style="line-height: 115%;">We had a practice run last Monday when I went out on my own into
my beautiful town and sat in the Fox’s Tale – my favourite café. I was buzzing
with the freedom of it all. I drank a little, ate a little and then I picked up
my pen and, very quickly, wrote a series of lines as a finger exercise (see
below).</span></span></h4><h4 style="margin-left: 35.45pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 115%;">After that I turned the page in my notebook and wrote very
quickly for 90 minutes, drafting a series of sequences sketches which will
certainly play their part in this year’s new novel set in 1963. </span></span></h4><h4 style="margin-left: 35.45pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><i>All very
good stuff</i> – as my son would say. Then I came home to find that my house
and its precious occupant were still standing.</span></span></h4><h4 style="margin-left: 35.45pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span><span style="line-height: 115%;">I certainly feel like a page has turned in this writer’s life.</span></span></h4><h4 style="margin-left: 35.45pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span>In the Fox’s Tale (1)</span></h4>
<h1 style="margin-left: 35.45pt;"><o:p></o:p></h1>
<h4 style="line-height: normal; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 35.45pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">freedom</span></h4>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">is coming
out of the door<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">and
knowing all is safe<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">in the
house behind me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">freedom<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">is walking
down the ancient street<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">neatly
split between sun and shadow<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">making my
way among strangers<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">and giving
this one directions<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">to a certain
a bank. He smiles.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">freedom<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">is eating
avocados, and drinking<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">cappuccino
with chocolate sprinkles<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">sitting
beside a young man with a laptop<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">and
wondering about his research as<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">he hums in
time to the music in his ears.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">freedom<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">is chewing
a warm bagel<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">watching
the world, and<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 35.45pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Segoe UI Semilight";">relishing
being outside and alive.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<h1 align="right" style="margin-right: 174.85pt; text-align: right;">wr<o:p></o:p></h1>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Segoe Print"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-41975105584006769682022-05-05T15:03:00.009+01:002022-05-05T16:30:54.163+01:00SIBLINGS STRUTTING THEIR STUFF <p><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"> </span></p><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4197510558400676968" itemprop="description articleBody" style="color: #666666; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 1.4; width: 730px;"><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIipeoCgp84krzkBh6mBkjh_DRgjsBroFyGIoc2_ovfOOE6NnrLM6sAwN72j9qpCE_n62MB5e_Nwv81WSn7qw1Yeqe4hVJvEMjFZLrbFJQwQX_BNsmDnful0mAduQ9hgoPij4n7T-be6dsdFbzTj0zgs7UrHSIiWJ-N7SJsTQKFu6nErBuLf2DaKl/s3803/IMG_20220503_160048.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; color: #a56e3d; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-decoration-line: none;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3803" data-original-width="2853" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSIipeoCgp84krzkBh6mBkjh_DRgjsBroFyGIoc2_ovfOOE6NnrLM6sAwN72j9qpCE_n62MB5e_Nwv81WSn7qw1Yeqe4hVJvEMjFZLrbFJQwQX_BNsmDnful0mAduQ9hgoPij4n7T-be6dsdFbzTj0zgs7UrHSIiWJ-N7SJsTQKFu6nErBuLf2DaKl/s320/IMG_20220503_160048.jpg" style="border: none; padding: 8px; position: relative;" width="240" /></span></a><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><a name="more"></a></span></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">At last, after one or two to production hiccups, my new collection <i>Siblings</i> is now live for interested people <i>on Amazon.</i> Producing my own volumes is the most exciting late-life experience for me. Since <i>Theft</i>, my first published novel in 1972 (one keen reader remembers this novel<a href="http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/search?q=theft+the+thirty+year+novel" style="color: #a56e3d; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"> here</a> ) </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.6667px;"> my</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> novels have been produced by major publishers accompanied be a small army of accomplished proof-readers and marketeers.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">I was always happy with their work, although sometimes the covers – beautifully painted - were more saga-esque than I would have preferred. I remember one editor telling me that if there was a woman on the cover – there was always a woman on the cover – this could produce thousands more sales. And if the woman was accompanied by a child, that could mean thousands more. The same applied if there was gold foil on the cover. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">In those days I just wrote my novels alongside the many other things – children, husband, demanding profession - in my life. These novels would be long - often running to 80 or 90,000 words.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">However, in recent years the world around me has changed radically: it has shrunk and slowed down, dominated as it is now by my role of full time carer. However, writing is my vocation, and I am <i>still</i> writing – now rather slimmer volumes - and publishing them myself through Amazon Createspace. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"> As my Auntie Alice (aka Eirwyn in my newest book<i> Siblings</i>…) wrote in my autograph book circa 1951. ‘<i>I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.’<o:p></o:p></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">This is never more so than my new collection of short stories,<i> Siblings</i>. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">These later volumes are slimmer and perhaps do not appear so genre-specific as many of the early novels on my list. When I first started on this private publishing gig (see<a href="https://damselflybooks.com/private-publicarion/" style="color: #a56e3d; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"> Damselfly</a> ) I continued to produce in the long fiction form. – <i>Becoming Alice</i> – <i>The Pathfinder</i> – <i>An Englishwoman France</i> – without deliberately meeting the protocols of genre fiction. (One of these books - the novel<a href="http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/search?q=The+Bad+Child" style="color: #a56e3d; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"> <i>The Bad Child</i></a> features an extra perceptive middle child who resembles Ayla, the central storyteller in <i>Siblings.</i>) Other recent books feature short prose (<i>Kaleidoscope</i>) and poetry (<i>With Such Caution)</i> turning more and more to the seductive melding of memoir and fiction about which I have written <i><u><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/3501702437500544780/1826605065122415063" style="color: #a56e3d; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">here</a></u></i><u> </u>on Life Twice Tasted before. Of course there have been those larger novels one was <i>Becoming Alice</i> the other one <i>The Bad Child</i>. And I have another one in plan. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">I am happy with them all. Writing and producing books in this way is not dissimilar to having children, in terms of the protective pride one feels as they venture out there in the world<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">I am feeling that now in the case of Siblings, out there, strutting her stuff.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">So here I am - rather weirdly with my editor’s cap on - talking about myself in the third person on the back cover of Siblings:<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">In this collection Wendy Robertson dances the borders between memoir and fiction, exploring the lives of seven siblings presided over by their mother who was widowed in the First World War. Their separate stories begin in the year 1922 in a mining village in South Durham. Each of the five sisters and two brothers has an individual story unique to themselves. The storyteller here is observant Ayla, the middle child in this talented family.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt; text-align: justify;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><i><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">She tells us: “</span></i><i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">This collection of short stories is dedicated to my mother Barbara and her siblings. Her family of storytellers embroidered their often-told stories not only into the history of their own family but also significantly into the history of the 20<sup>th</sup> Century.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt; text-align: justify;"><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt;"><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">She has published many novels and several books of short stories. Many of these reflect the history, landscape, and personalities emerging from County Durham, where she has lived most of her life. In that time she has also travelled researched, written other novels set in London. Coventry and North Wales and far afield as Singapore, America, and France. Discover more about these novels on her blog at <a href="http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/" style="color: #a56e3d; text-decoration-line: none;">http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/</a><o:p></o:p></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt;"><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt;"><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt;"><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;">See her essay about<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blog/post/edit/3501702437500544780/1826605065122415063" style="color: #a56e3d; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"> dancing the borders between fact and fiction,</a> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt;"><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"><br /></span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm -1.15pt 0cm 14.2pt; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-size: 18.6667px;"><i>ORDER SIBLINGS <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/SIBLINGS-TWENTIETH-WENDY-hUNTER-ROBERTSON/dp/B09X64J936/ref=sr_1_3?qid=1651759287&refinements=p_27%3AWendy+Robertson&s=books&sr=1-3" style="color: #a56e3d; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">HERE </a></i></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"> </span></i></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 21.4667px;"> </span></p></div>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"> </o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-86307751285022102012022-04-20T13:23:00.005+01:002022-05-05T14:14:34.752+01:00 ‘The unexamined life is not worth living.’ Plato. 'The Midnight Mannequins.'<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEK_ucX9Z85pAS2cKcBx5DqKNOTR83pR3h1SQkM32kQqG19s_-9aAH6bse142KW5v5YtnI2kO2zPTHafou9KoOtpx_Orh9LgaAfycddn5VferXWIp7ONbytEZKScc6-sp6Q0JYR_ibg6XfGwH62BLPSH8Llibl46XNyRqgU-slQbRfaBebb1O-TYgY" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="643" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgEK_ucX9Z85pAS2cKcBx5DqKNOTR83pR3h1SQkM32kQqG19s_-9aAH6bse142KW5v5YtnI2kO2zPTHafou9KoOtpx_Orh9LgaAfycddn5VferXWIp7ONbytEZKScc6-sp6Q0JYR_ibg6XfGwH62BLPSH8Llibl46XNyRqgU-slQbRfaBebb1O-TYgY" width="149" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote><p><br /> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><b><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">‘The unexamined life
is not worth living</span></b><span style="background: white; color: #202122; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">.’ Plato<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">I am aware that in the modern world an increasing range of
people have heartfelt aspirations to write. However it might be the case that
some people who have aspirations to write never quite manage <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to examine their own life or the lives around
them in the Platonic sense. Some people think that writing means ‘writing down’
as opposed to the reality of writing, which is observing, thinking and
transforming their own experiences to make them universal and truly felt by the
reader. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">(Sadly at the present time some writing aspirations have
been built around ideas of fame and fortune which is a false doorway into that precious
room of writing.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">My admittedly long life in writing and publishing has been
divided almost equally between writing and teaching in and out of schools and
institutions. Then, after a number of published novels and short story
collections, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this has inevitably culminated
in more recent years in workshops and courses in the community, addressing the
writing process.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">And now I am reflecting on all the courses and workshops I
have facilitated over this long time. I have the feeling now that many people
who are not actually labelled ‘writer’ can indeed write and that some have a well-founded,
deep desire to see their stories on the page. These are people of talent and
persistence like Mike Daley who have developed their innate ability in the
Platonic sense, to examine their own life and the lives of people around them. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">So I understand that many people who are not actually
labelled ‘writer’ can indeed write and have a deep desire to see their words
and creative perceptions on the page. In some cases these people have moved on
towards publication. One of the pleasures of doing all this has been meeting
people like Michael Daly, writer of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The
Midnight Mannequins.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Some years ago Mike came to one of my workshops and - if
you like – ‘caught the bug’. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so
inevitably I have been thinking about these years of teaching as I read and
enjoyed his new published volume of short stories <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Midnight Mannequins</i>. . <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">It seems to me that, in going through this process, Mike
Daley has developed the complex literary ability to walk the line between
memoir and story- a delicate process I have written about this elsewhere on
this blog.<a href="http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/search?q=+Memoir+and+Fiction">http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/search?q=+Memoir+and+Fiction</a>
<o:p></o:p></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgblafr1RO4_E9aX_Dhf6I97b4WGpwuOVw8w48S3rDJnD9GLWS9PM0vvnzkFPgprxi78rLxhRI4MHnVaXf6bMqMgZeE-JdFhjOx2WaHBTA8FWuD-NKOgpOlSNT6uNCPCysaof25p0EgLrXMu_bJ6OF6pShDxwWsOco741l4MopNflT-_TUS6grvcaM-" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="643" data-original-width="400" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgblafr1RO4_E9aX_Dhf6I97b4WGpwuOVw8w48S3rDJnD9GLWS9PM0vvnzkFPgprxi78rLxhRI4MHnVaXf6bMqMgZeE-JdFhjOx2WaHBTA8FWuD-NKOgpOlSNT6uNCPCysaof25p0EgLrXMu_bJ6OF6pShDxwWsOco741l4MopNflT-_TUS6grvcaM-" width="149" /></a></div><p></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"></p><div style="text-align: right;"><br /></div><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Mike certainly has had a life which is worth examining. His
witty and confiding tone has the familiar literary ring of the Irish voice.
Born in Roscommon, Ireland he came to Britain to join the RAF at the age of
seventeen. After a successful career culminating in the role of Squadron Leader
he left to become a university bursar in Durham city. In 1985 he was awarded an
MBE for military service in and was awarded the freedom of the city of London.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Interestingly his fiction is not confined to any
journalistic accounting of these experiences. The titles of his short stories will
give you a clue. Besides <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Midnight
Mannequins, </i>we have<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> How Was Your
Mother?, Jolly Good Show, The Price Tag, Love Letter, Lunch Without Laughter,
The Book Club, Bed Seven, The Tea Dancers, The Defaced Fiver, </i>and<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> The Dance Band. </i>All these stories lead
the reader from one to another to explore the life experienced with weight, irony,
and knowing allusions ensuring that good writing is the product from <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>unique ‘examined life’.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">Read and enjoy! And – I would say this, wouldn’t I? <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;">To obtain it : </span><a data-auth="Verified" data-linkindex="0" href="https://nam12.safelinks.protection.outlook.com/?url=https%3A%2F%2Fblackwells.co.uk%2Fbookshop%2Fproduct%2FThe-Midnight-Mannequins-and-Other-Stories-by-Michael-Daly%2F9781398410404&data=04%7C01%7C%7Cc3ea31e6e9f7464fd07b08da21dfcd2b%7C84df9e7fe9f640afb435aaaaaaaaaaaa%7C1%7C0%7C637859542370245832%7CUnknown%7CTWFpbGZsb3d8eyJWIjoiMC4wLjAwMDAiLCJQIjoiV2luMzIiLCJBTiI6Ik1haWwiLCJXVCI6Mn0%3D%7C3000&sdata=d%2Fbn93zhzevDK%2B9BLl2xcgUUARw%2FgVaTpccciWZAZ1I%3D&reserved=0" originalsrc="https://blackwells.co.uk/bookshop/product/The-Midnight-Mannequins-and-Other-Stories-by-Michael-Daly/9781398410404" rel="noopener noreferrer" shash="hFmhw3VBH6WcP43k/v4dsWCjmaOpgfrcm6t6h2I1Gd1Rl+qWCQaGaim+wZmpo5h1i0mJNVNdoYMtyPHSOdXPFZDYENSRkXGvgeOJrkqH/gnDYSOmcjDGxAIk3ZAfXUzjGn2aAMzhqFVqpxlCttXNZMNXkj5Gy29VlmmZMOFA0MM=" style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 16px; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;" target="_blank" title="Protected by Outlook: https://blackwells.co.uk/bookshop/product/The-Midnight-Mannequins-and-Other-Stories-by-Michael-Daly/9781398410404. Click or tap to follow the link.">https://blackwells.co.uk/bookshop/product/The-Midnight-Mannequins-and-Other-Stories-by-Michael-Daly/9781398410404</a></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-42742196428898699092022-01-29T18:18:00.000+00:002022-01-29T18:18:21.047+00:00 THEFT: The Fifty-Year Novel.<p> </p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; text-indent: -36.0pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">THEFT: The Fifty-Year Novel.<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">‘</span></i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I am so pleased to have found you after fifty
years. You don't know me, but I would very much like to thank you for creating
something a long time ago that has had a prescient influence on my life.’ </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">.</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Richard Temple</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 36.0pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: -36.0pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><b><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">‘</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">It had been on my mind for many years that I should
somehow try to get in touch and let you know how deeply <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Theft </span>had reached into my
imagination.’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Richard Temple.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, "sans-serif"; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"> I am embarking on
a long post, I admit. But bear with me - there are two stories almost magically
entwined here. I hope, though, as a reader or a writer this I will be worth
your sustained attention. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"> </span></span></div><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjM605p-WyCn8frazXMam8OssyqzMsttdnQ5dlyuugwiHc1zVW-VQ5gaJyc_NxTkGPQsHYCkLHV9OOWbOPmqFtV4_bFDGb0lLPKzGvViVi6RuNgOsMDXXuZ09hMaFa1W4KTFxIgNmXILnPy9I2yFTUdEtHw_pj1S9fcJQ42Z2hFM8WkrMM9YOZ_R5PP=s1161" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="844" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjM605p-WyCn8frazXMam8OssyqzMsttdnQ5dlyuugwiHc1zVW-VQ5gaJyc_NxTkGPQsHYCkLHV9OOWbOPmqFtV4_bFDGb0lLPKzGvViVi6RuNgOsMDXXuZ09hMaFa1W4KTFxIgNmXILnPy9I2yFTUdEtHw_pj1S9fcJQ42Z2hFM8WkrMM9YOZ_R5PP=w131-h180" width="131" /></a></div><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">THEFT The Fifty
Year Novel<o:p></o:p></span></u></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Wendy’s Story<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; tab-stops: 21.3pt; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">In 1972 Carousel, a branch of Transworld Publishing,
published my very first novel THEFT</span></i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; tab-stops: 21.3pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">At that time I was a young teacher with two
children, managing a family and a house and a working husband. At that time I
was writing, obeying the compulsion that had consumed me since I was eight
years old. At that time - as well as changing my library book 5 times a week - I
used to write my invented stories on A4 paper, then fold each story in half and
stitch the spine with my mother’s big tacking needle. In some of these ‘books’ page
I even pasted in a library marked up with dates of imaginary borrowers. (Then
and always libraries were my heaven-sent place in a rather difficult young
life.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">THEFT, written when I in my twenties, was longer
than these home-made beauties and took some time to write. Then one night I was
sitting in a group of women who were discussing an organisation called Books
for Your Children – a group led by Anne Wood, another teacher emerging from
South Durham. She happened to mention that some people were - even now! - writing
for children. So I happened to say that I’d written one, for a start. She asked
to read it and I willingly handed it over. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">The next day she rang and said, ‘We’ll have it.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Puzzled, I said, “Who? Who will have it?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">That was when she told me that she was newly
appointed editor for Carousel, the new imprint launched by Transworld.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">My daughter Debora, now very grown-up indeed,
recently told me that she remembers the day when a box full of copies of THEFT arrived
on our doorstep and how excited we all were to see these books with their wonderful
cover spilling out of the box.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.8pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">After that, as well as teaching and family et
cetera, I produced several children’s and adult novels before I took the bull
by the horns and designated myself a full time writer and proceeded to write
more novels. </span><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.8pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;">THEFT</span></i><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;"> is a story told using the context of my own South
Durham working class life and family. Here on the blog you can see that that since
the publication of <i>Theft </i>in<i> 1972, </i>alongside
teaching in schools and later working in higher education I have written a good
number of novels which celebrate my<span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"> </span>own cultural
context - I hope without stereotyping, romanticising <span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"> </span>or denigrating that life and its values. This, I
trust, <span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;">ensured</span> that at the core of all the novels are grains of
fundamental truth which are the sign of good fiction and will be recognised by
readers from widely different backgrounds – as turned out the case with Richard
Temple. See his story below. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;">Quite an important point here
is that, as well as my own South Durham setting, the novels are sometimes
located in such far-flung places as Spain, Russia, Singapore, USA and of course
- as with many migrant Durham families - locations such as Ireland Scotland and
Wales. I grew up very keen on both travelling and researching. And in my fiction,
characters are featured sometimes leaving and sometimes arriving in the
north-east of England my heart’s home. </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Like THEFT these
novels spring out of my identity as a South Durham person<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;">And so now I have come to
full circle. I have just completed the collection SIBLINGS – short stories of
seven brothers and sisters living in just such as the location as the setting
for THEFT. To my delight these stories were broadcast over Christmas</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 8.5pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;">Anne will be published as a book lateOr this year.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;">AND NOW…<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 33.1pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;">And now for the special
reason for telling you this long story. I received a letter from a perfect
stranger Richard Temple, who lives in London and is now retired from his job as
a graphic designer at the BBC. He has his own story to tell about theft and its
role in his quite long life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 2.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><u><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><u><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWNYtJZeMOgQJE-KpjxA5dHN0WPTXNT9ds5cwCfeTtqnhYplvhTOzX1GLzusFvR7D1FMiCRtw-98m_V2j1AhZuCgaqrp7brwsOaz8tT4FgVpN-RWaCknbZxgdIROdl0DWVVVASVN1C9EwLzVV0NV5d-wcZms1J2P2dNO7IMA3uupgVS2JRkg2SBMn-=s1161" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="844" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjWNYtJZeMOgQJE-KpjxA5dHN0WPTXNT9ds5cwCfeTtqnhYplvhTOzX1GLzusFvR7D1FMiCRtw-98m_V2j1AhZuCgaqrp7brwsOaz8tT4FgVpN-RWaCknbZxgdIROdl0DWVVVASVN1C9EwLzVV0NV5d-wcZms1J2P2dNO7IMA3uupgVS2JRkg2SBMn-=s320" width="233" /></a></u></div><u><br /></u><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><u><span style="background: white; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-themecolor: text1;">Richard Temple’s Fifty Year Story
of THEFT<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></span></u></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">Letter One: <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Richard and Christine<o:p></o:p></span></u></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p><span style="text-decoration: none;"> </span></o:p></span></u></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Hello Wendy,<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; tab-stops: 60.1pt; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I am so pleased to
have found you after fifty years. You don't know me, but I would very much like
to thank you for creating something a long time ago that has had a prescient
influence on my life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I'm talking about your novel, <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">THEFT.</span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I was about eleven when I read it. My mum was a
good chooser of books and had bought it to keep me happy while I was recovering
from mumps and very miserable about going away to a boarding school at the end
of the summer holidays.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">THEFT </span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">was so
enthralling. I loved every sentence. I also loved the fact that the
story-teller and main character was female. Being a boy, I realised for
the first time that girls liked a bit of excitement too and weren't really that
different from me. That, and the fact that a lot of the action was at
night.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">But I was transfixed by the setting, the rows of
terraced houses in the North East, the curtain that was a kitchen door and the
community spirit and the warmth of the mother telling the story. It
really had meaning for me and I understood it, even though I had a very
different life myself. I was a middle class child growing up in
Cheltenham and went to boarding schools.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I read the book four or five times and took it away
to school with me, so I could escape the rabble and travel away to the cobbled
streets and night adventures somewhere warmer, in the emotional sense.
The illustrated cover was very good too. The moonlit image stuck in my
head and visualising it brought back the feelings and people inside the book
for my entire life.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">When I was twenty-two I went to London to work for
the BBC. My bedroom at home had been emptied by then and turned into a
guest room. All physical signs of my childhood existence had disappeared,
along with my books, and that was that.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">In London I met a girl. She was a nurse from
Gateshead. It felt like we'd always known each other and after a few
months I went up North to meet her family. Until then I had not made the
connection with <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Theft </span>but
I soon did. My accent, the sense of being different and 'posh'. But
soon I realised that these people were warm, not hostile, they were tolerant
and included everyone no matter how odd they might be, which was a far cry from
my own world until then.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">My girlfriend had grown up in a terraced house in a
street just like the one in your book. It was the 'sixties but even then
there was no bath, no hot water, no heating apart from coal fires. There
was even a curtain across the doorway. Her mam had worked in a
shop. Her dad was a train driver who had become ill with the coal dust
and died far too young. <span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;">They had a cobbled street,
strange gas-style street lights and even a pub on the corner like the one on
the cover of <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">Theft.</span></span><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">She was living there when I read the book and I can
see her almost as if you had been writing about her. I really felt as if
I had entered into the book that had made such a strong and meaningful
impression on me. My girlfriend also had an older brother who had looked
after her much of the time when they were growing up and they had near scrapes
and similar tales to tell.</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">My Geordie girlfriend is now my wife and we have
been together for thirty-five years. I told her about your book early in
our friendship. One day my mother was emptying her loft and gave me a box
that she had put all my books in years before. To my joy, there was the
moonlit street, the kids running for their lives and 'Theft' in rounded
letters.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Christine - that's my wife - grabbed it and read
it, and like me loved every bit of it. The almost supernatural attraction
it had for me when I was eleven is not lost on her and she finds it as strange
as I do.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">We settled in London but often go back to the North
East. Although in London, the house we live in is in a Victorian terraced
street. Sadly the cobbles went years ago, although there are some left
along the gutters and in the lanes. </span></i><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">Now <i>Theft </i>is
kept above the fireplace in the bedroom and I would not be without it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Thanks Wendy. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 1.0cm; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-indent: 42.55pt; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">Richard</span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGWaU5sSZ2oxfgXEnQcrNJR5aRmVITk3oTzZOJgJkfZOF8q-iX1QksCjcgTjoRPHUsxTfzg90Jbt0qSRDYKsVV3eRblm2REYQy458Q6LKxPJYOKPm3_0FOGfZTiL60-nLyPOMpdI59kStWD91RCy0Vfe4xEDcrUBMIV9SMnGMW9bC_UaV-8p2qZmxJ=s1161" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="844" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiGWaU5sSZ2oxfgXEnQcrNJR5aRmVITk3oTzZOJgJkfZOF8q-iX1QksCjcgTjoRPHUsxTfzg90Jbt0qSRDYKsVV3eRblm2REYQy458Q6LKxPJYOKPm3_0FOGfZTiL60-nLyPOMpdI59kStWD91RCy0Vfe4xEDcrUBMIV9SMnGMW9bC_UaV-8p2qZmxJ=s320" width="233" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><u><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">Richard Temple: Letter Two: <o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><u><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 14.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">THEFT </span></u><u><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1; padding: 0cm;">and Family Life.<o:p></o:p></span></u></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Dear Wendy<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I am bowled over and overwhelmed by your reply to
my humble thank you, I really am. I will follow your links and listen to
the stories of <i>Siblings</i>. I can't wait to hear it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">It had been on my mind for many years that I should
somehow try to get in touch and let you know how deeply <i>Theft </i>had
reached into my imagination. It remained a 'should do' item on several
lists until I was mildly unwell with covid last year and, lying in bed feeling
miserable, raking over life in general, my eye fell on the spine of <i>Theft. </i>I
thought of you and realised this was my chance to do what I had always intended
to do, but never had. I reached for my tablet and started Googling and
soon found your blog. Obviously I found it fascinating and was even more
delighted to see an email address. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">How you have managed to accomplish so much is
beyond me. What an achievement. All those books and everything
else; truly amazing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">You were kind enough to say my story was
beautifully told in a way that hinted that I might be a writer. From you,
that is indeed an accolade, probably the greatest compliment I've ever
had. I will have to let that sink in. I've always been told I'm a
writer, but I have never published a book, nor even reached the end of writing
one. I can write a chapter, but then I feel the need to get up and walk
around and that's the end of it. Ten minutes later I'm bored with that
story and have a new idea for a different one. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I am actually a graphic designer and worked for
many years at Television Centre in Shepherd's Bush, London. I'm more or
less retired now, so maybe now is my moment to get writing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">I tried to keep my first letter to you a brief one
although there are more strange parallels between <i>Theft</i> and my
own world. I mentioned my wife Christine, whose childhood felt so
familiar. Like you, she always enjoyed books and was the first ever in
her family to get A-levels and then reach university. She studied English
Literature and our love of reading, especially modern poetry, brought us
together. Perhaps like you, judging from what you have said, education in
all its forms has been her metier and she jumped across several unexpected
stepping stones to eventually becoming a senior university lecturer. She
has always been totally confident about her childhood and proud of her home and
her wise and clever parents who did not have the same opportunities. I am
proud of that too, although I can't claim any credit for it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Thank goodness for education. It really does
transform and there is nothing better. Although thinking about how easily
I found your blog, the World Wide Web springs to mind as close second. My
son is in his second year at university and one of his lecturers made the point
a few weeks ago that his generation of students is the first to enter
university with no experience of the world without the internet. That was
quite a thought. He has always used it to teach himself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">That brings me to the next thing I want to tell
you. Your daughter says that the books we encounter in childhood are
transformative. She is right. I think they can be for adults too,
but perhaps less subtly. We read <i>Theft </i>to our son
William several times when he was growing up. He too loved it. In
terms of being transformative, it prompted wonderful discussions about his
north-eastern heritage and he was fascinated to hear all about his mother's
life in the terraced house in Gateshead that was so similar to the book's.
The concept of a house where children were bathed in the kitchen sink is a real
one for him. Those stories have made him, I am pleased to say, very
realistic about education and how different life is for him as a result of
it. He's ambitious and interested in politics and that has a lot to do
with your book. So who knows how long and how far <i>Theft </i>might
continue to work, its magic.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">You have achieved so much, have so much to be proud
of and that alone is an inspiration. I too read <i>The Secret Garden</i> as
a child and got a lot out of it, even though it terrified me. I did also
love the translated books of a French author, Paul Bernard. They were
often adventure stories about a group of kids set in France. They gave me
a life-long interest in France. The long roads, the empty countryside and the
rambling, dilapidated villages where it's a good thing to sit with a Pernod,
smoke Gauloises and contemplate nothing much, apart from life itself.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;">Richard.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><br clear="all" style="mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 26.05pt; margin-top: 0cm; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1.0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhfhp55CA0cCGw7e3ThsGHP-GuVyCrOx6xWJFzakX-RHCBpTd14rrIRFFSIfZksjE6kx8_4WQWYXTbi-80bgYHzRwLiNcGiVXesKVTfDvbROYAtUHMH7BdDIPiToFzf5k_0M326nUiY2M_v5Wh4yya2aUVkoBHaQfXR63lAK9GtHKlFDI-mcNOkKyJl=s1161" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1161" data-original-width="844" height="431" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhfhp55CA0cCGw7e3ThsGHP-GuVyCrOx6xWJFzakX-RHCBpTd14rrIRFFSIfZksjE6kx8_4WQWYXTbi-80bgYHzRwLiNcGiVXesKVTfDvbROYAtUHMH7BdDIPiToFzf5k_0M326nUiY2M_v5Wh4yya2aUVkoBHaQfXR63lAK9GtHKlFDI-mcNOkKyJl=w313-h431" width="313" /></a></div><br /><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 18.6667px;"> </span><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter; font-size: large;">Thank you Richard for giving me permission to print your story and for making this week so much brighter, Wendy.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text1;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-58938965968144288332022-01-11T13:04:00.003+00:002022-01-14T08:18:17.465+00:00 A Voice Actor’s Perspective - ANNE DOVER<p><span style="font-family: Yellowtail;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Yellowtail; font-size: medium;"><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e;"><b>A</b></span><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e;"><b>nne Dover:</b></span></span><span face=""Segoe UI", "sans-serif"" style="background: white; color: #201f1e;"> Meeting Wendy Robertson, and collaborating with her as her
narrator for the recent Siblings project, (broadcast on Bishop FM Dec 2021 - listen at </span><a href="https://damselflybooks.com/bishop-fm/"><b><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="background: white; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">https://damselflybooks.com/bishop-fm/</span></b></a> - <span face=""Segoe UI", "sans-serif"" style="background: white; color: #201f1e;"> has been an honour and a total delight. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e;"><b><span style="font-family: Yellowtail; font-size: medium;">Wendy R:</span><span face=""Segoe UI", "sans-serif"" style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><span face="Segoe UI, sans-serif">And a delight for me, Scroll down to see the whole of this story...</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="color: #201f1e;"><b>
<!--[endif]--><span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzNgfkNByJsQewUw_-WnhMDfjf6-9oVX6rqBDtPfcFY1LDZGYqKMDU2lpCh7Rq3OxpDMjLicwwyNJbjt-S7PoU9cbinWz8GjmHpetlTHIf7GWxTFsJQaBqAmxvYq4_rNx6oSKFVCjpIoeuLuEnhBdmwOpTN_CjzS8ebRUWZYU0h3DXLU86PCBXi9nu=s1024" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><b><img border="0" data-original-height="1024" data-original-width="758" height="113" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjzNgfkNByJsQewUw_-WnhMDfjf6-9oVX6rqBDtPfcFY1LDZGYqKMDU2lpCh7Rq3OxpDMjLicwwyNJbjt-S7PoU9cbinWz8GjmHpetlTHIf7GWxTFsJQaBqAmxvYq4_rNx6oSKFVCjpIoeuLuEnhBdmwOpTN_CjzS8ebRUWZYU0h3DXLU86PCBXi9nu=w84-h113" width="84" /></b></a></div><b><span style="font-family: Yellowtail; font-size: medium;">Anne Dover: </span></b><span face=""Segoe UI", "sans-serif"" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e;">I am what is termed a </span><i style="color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", "sans-serif";">voice
actor,</i><span face=""Segoe UI", "sans-serif"" style="background-color: white; color: #201f1e;"> and for the last 30 odd years I have been lucky to have narrated
over 1,000 audiobooks, including several written by Wendy. I am particularly
drawn to her characters, as they always have depth and heart, and as my job is
to give a voice to them she helps make the narration a joy. Also I grew up not
far away from Bishop Auckland, where she is based, so we share many points of
interest.</span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="background: white; color: #201f1e;">I am often asked, how I became a ‘<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">voice actor’</i> and what was my training for such a job?</span><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="color: #201f1e;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">I suppose I was fortunate to have parents who
encouraged my sister and me to read aloud, and - as was fairly common among the
rural Durham mining community, where I lived - our entertainment was self-made.
No T.V. in those days, although we had a radio, and a piano around which we
would sing, and would harmonise anything that my Mother could play _ hymns
mostly, and some light opera ballads. My Dad’s Welsh blood had given him a
lovely tenor voice, and he had learned somewhere about voice projection, and
gave us vocal tips to make the best of our homespun performances. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="background: white; color: #201f1e;">Our Sundays were spent at the Wesleyan chapel in Willington
in County Durham, where concerts were held and my sister and I had to recite
poetry and sing at the Sunday School Anniversaries. Sometimes we had to compete
against each other at Eisteddfods, which I suppose were begun I suppose when
the Welsh miners merged with the Durham community.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="background: white; color: #201f1e;">My Dad, who worked at the local colliery, was encouraged to
become a ‘local’ preacher and had a certain presence and we formed ‘Mr. Roberts
and his singing family’!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a result, my
sister and I were used to and enjoyed getting up on any stage to perform. She
became a successful Cabaret singer, while I left Durham for Newcastle just as
Tyne Tees TV studios began broadcasting. I was a fashion model at the time<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>- in the 60’s - and was asked one day to make
an appearance on a T.V show, which in turn led to an opportunity to voice a T.V
commercial, and that was the beginning of my vocal career.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="background: white; color: #201f1e;">In my family, we were never told to be quiet. Every book we
read was an opportunity to act it out. So, using the voice for performing
purposes was second nature, and my sister and I used to copy accents and voices
for fun, just to make each other laugh. After I left school, I got a job as
Receptionist and Telephonist at a local garment factory, where I enjoyed
practicing my ‘posh’ voice on the telephone, and as a bonus was given the task
of ‘modelling’ the coats for the factory owner when he came up from London.
(The reality was that as I was 17 and skinny, all the coats were too big, and I
was derided because the coats didn’t fit). But when the boss’s wife arrived - French,
petite extremely glamorous, with poodle tucked under her arm - I amused myself
by trying to copy her accent and longed for her style.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="background: white; color: #201f1e;">The main character I remember, in my first audiobook, was a
Liverpool girl from the slums, so I listened endlessly to Cilla Black speaking,
and simply copied her voice which I could hear in my head while I was
recording. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="background: white; color: #201f1e;">So in fact I never did have any form of training, it was just
something I found, when given the chance, I could do voices and for this I
think having a decent ear for music was an enormous bonus. I feel I was lucky
to be in the right place at the right time.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="color: #201f1e;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">Nowadays, after Covid, I record from my tiny
home studio (actually a walk-in cupboard). Lockdowns meant for some time we
travelling bands of audio voice workers were prevented from dashing around the
U.K to recording studios and people like me began to record at home, and now,
it has itself become a way of life for me. My travelling days are over
now, but the voice lingers on and I suppose that as long as publishers and
authors desire to hire it, I will be delighted as always to clear my throat,
and become the many characters that the audio book requires.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="color: #201f1e;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">The first audiobooks were designed to help and
be used by people with sight loss, but I’m happy to say that the industry is
booming, and becoming a way of enjoying a book for sighted people, who simply
love being read to as much as I delight in narrating for them. Of course
without the authors, we narrators wouldn’t be able to narrate.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="color: #201f1e;"><br />
<span style="background: white;">Long may they all continue putting pen to paper,
and captivating our imaginations, and sometimes ……our souls.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Love to all Listeners….everywhere</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background: white;">Anne Dover.</span><br />
<b><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--></b></span></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="color: #201f1e;"><b>Anne voices Ayla, who is the storyteller in Siblings.</b></span></p></blockquote><p class="MsoNormal"><span face=""Segoe UI","sans-serif"" style="color: #201f1e;"><b>
<!--[endif]--><span style="background: white;"><o:p></o:p></span></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4V1Z-6_EqQV4A-bEenUnAOBcyvm2e5p6WpHg7m-w1b2niM9dkFfXfBDqELMs8uSMXL6DGcUzmXndJylVbn2QTZTpJUzC1S7cT6Oyrzxa4wcWGFFaXc6hM9Ua-k3h-l92A0wUWZFTCDnY6GEpO-X9kymvngLkayzi9YH6IjEoTxy7TKrW0KEcDxSAC=s735" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="735" data-original-width="535" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi4V1Z-6_EqQV4A-bEenUnAOBcyvm2e5p6WpHg7m-w1b2niM9dkFfXfBDqELMs8uSMXL6DGcUzmXndJylVbn2QTZTpJUzC1S7cT6Oyrzxa4wcWGFFaXc6hM9Ua-k3h-l92A0wUWZFTCDnY6GEpO-X9kymvngLkayzi9YH6IjEoTxy7TKrW0KEcDxSAC=s320" width="233" /></a></div><br /><p></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-37365158562293061962022-01-05T16:58:00.003+00:002022-01-05T16:58:42.320+00:00The Writer as Outsider<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For several years now, perhaps triggered by
the isolation engendered by the Covid situation, I have spent much of my time -
as I say in a recent blog post (scroll down) - dancing on the border between memoir and
fiction. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">One outcome
of this has been my new collection This has resulted in at least one distinct
collection called <b>Siblings: </b>seven distinct stories of a family of seven
siblings. The stories are all told by the middle child – called Ayla. She is
the storyteller. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">This book
will be published in the spring but you can listen again to these stories on <a href=" https://damselflybooks.com/bishop-fm/">Bishop FM.</a> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I have
written elsewhere about middle children – for example in my novels <b>The Bad
Child</b> and <b>Becoming Alice</b>. Inevitably some observers will say that is
this is a deep reflection on my own role as the middle child in a diverse
family who relishes the role of the outsider. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">But I would
assert that this outsider feeling transforms itself to a creative resource when
one is a writer who can reflect on the events going on around her. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">There is a
poem about this feeling in my book <b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Such-Caution-Glimpsed-Short-Pieces-ebook/dp/B08XQQ16Q9">WithSuch Caution – a Life Glimpsed in Short pieces.</a> </i></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">I thought
you might like to read it. Here it is, Wx<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;">Outsiderness</span></b></div><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Being the third child of four</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I was bred to be an outsider.</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Being the new child from a far town</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I was labelled outsider.</span></div></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Talking with the wrong tone</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I was seen as a verbal outsider.</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Being the cleverest child in class</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">made me an outsider.</span></div></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Working alongside men</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I was the female outsider.</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Writing stories made me</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">a mendacious outsider.</span></div></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Living with a man doesn’t see</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I have become an invisible outsider. –</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Learning to make myself comfortable</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In this ultimate containment.</span></div></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></span><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; padding: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Now,
living through to older age</span></div></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">I am an intimate outsider, even</span></div></span><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; padding: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 12pt; padding: 0cm;">the
ultimate outsider, r</span><span style="color: black; font-size: 12pt;">elishing</span></div></span><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">this … Outsiderness.</span></div></span><o:p><div style="text-align: center;"> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigyeCLLnWCu5tFQMnJcS8z39OmXDxZqLwDSpwQxGnT2rOWIVPMI04veH1Hwc2YaX04ZHMPyC2Vy23dvlK30959kE8dWBnbSyzXt9-eG6Wn4nV2WxSKkm35zcKKEcErPk7kI87onKSDrx0sp6f1xs2HuRdR90cCOP59xIKRT97QnHo62Uc-QCE0U6JD=s1465" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1465" data-original-width="1064" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEigyeCLLnWCu5tFQMnJcS8z39OmXDxZqLwDSpwQxGnT2rOWIVPMI04veH1Hwc2YaX04ZHMPyC2Vy23dvlK30959kE8dWBnbSyzXt9-eG6Wn4nV2WxSKkm35zcKKEcErPk7kI87onKSDrx0sp6f1xs2HuRdR90cCOP59xIKRT97QnHo62Uc-QCE0U6JD=s320" width="232" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></o:p></div>
Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-77936935002291880312021-12-16T12:14:00.000+00:002021-12-16T12:14:01.309+00:00SIBLINGS: My stories on Christmas Radio<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px;">In my last post here on Life Twice Tasted <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(scroll down) I outlined my adventures during Lockdown on the borderline between memoir and fiction as I worked, story by story,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on this new <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>short story collection <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SIBLINGS. In it I argued that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– like many writers of fiction – I am exploring the gap between fiction and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the uniquely true nature of a family’s history, grounded as it is in intricate and deeply observed family experience and liberated by the freedom of creative storytelling.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">At last in SIBLINGS <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have now completed the seven stories that are the essential truth emerging from a family spanning the first half of the 20<sup>th</sup> century. In this process Ayla, the middle sibling, is the storyteller for all the family. One by one she tells the complex stories of her four sisters and two brothers. These children are not alike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ayla tells each story with her acute, sometimes idiosyncratic, observations of her much-loved family.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">In the long term SIBLINGS has an over- arching narrative linking 1922 to 2022 –starting in 1922 when Ayla is telling us the individual stories of her sisters and brothers, living in a small house in a Durham street under the magisterial care of their ‘Mam’, widowed by the First World War. But the final curve of the arch reached <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>writing these stories during the Covid confinement of 21/22. I am sitting here telling the unique stories of the seven siblings in Ayla’s voice, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>truly walking the line between memoir and fiction.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">As an experience of writing, this process has the quality of a dream as each distinctive sibling comes to life before me, flowing through the ink of my pen onto the page of my notebook.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">My original idea was to record the stories and one by one and provide links to them here on my blog, so you could hear them as well as read the text. For this purpose I turned to <b>Anne Dover </b>the brilliant professional actress who has narrated a number of my novel into audio. Anne has the perfect voice for my Durham prose, incorporating the musicality with quiet authority and capturing the nuances, the soft tones of our way of speaking. Although she has travelled far and wide with her profession, Anne originally comes from Wolsingham in County Durham, so she starts with an advantage here.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">For the final audio edit on the first story BRAM, I turned to <b>Gillian Campbell</b> of Bishop FM. Having done a great job on this. Gillian suggested to me that the radio station would be interested in broadcasting the SIBLING stories. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">So now it turns out – with the collaboration of<b> Gary Burgham,</b> the Bishop FM programme director - that the seven stories which constitute siblings will be broadcast beginning at 2pm on Christmas Eve.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I will also post them here on my blog week by week. If you would like to see the first of the sibling stories – the story of BRAM the oldest brother – you will note that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the whole text of that story is posted in full on my previous blog post. (Scroll back…).<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">After they are broadcasts you will be able to listen to </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">to Anne Dover's wonderful narrations. </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"> again here and on Bishop FM .</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: large;">So this is my Christmas present to <i>you </i>- all the great people who have shown an interest in my work both recently and through the years when my novels emerged into the light</span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p><h1 style="line-height: 48px; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 48px;"><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter; font-size: large;">Wendy R x</span></span></h1><div><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 28px; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;"><br /></span></span></div><h3 style="line-height: 28.08px;"></h3><h4><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">From </span>Gary Burgham<span style="font-weight: normal;"> Programme Director of Bishop FM at</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Google Sans Text", arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; font-weight: 400; text-align: start;"> </span><a href="https://www.bishopfm.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #4b11a8; font-family: "Google Sans Text", arial, sans-serif; font-weight: 400; text-align: start;">https://www.bishopfm.com/</a><span face=""Google Sans Text", arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; font-weight: 400; text-align: start;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="background: white; color: red; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Bishop Auckland</span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: red; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">author Wendy Robertson has been working on a collection of short stories entitled SIBLINGS, told by the eleven year old middle Sibling, Ayla, set primarily in the year 1922. Although the seven siblings from whom the stories spring are genetically connected to each other and in the subsequent generations genetically connected to the author, these stories will essentially be pure fiction, shot through with fragments of the author's true memory. Siblings will be read by </span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: red; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">actor Anne Peacock who originates from Wolsingham</span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: red; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> and can be heard on Bishop FM on Christmas eve at 2pm and at 2pm each day thereafter.</span></i><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e;"> </span></span></div></h4><p style="text-align: center;"><span><br /></span></p><h4 style="line-height: 24px; text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;">Visit Anne Dover, the gifted narrator of SIBLINGS<br /></span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;">at<br /></span></span><span style="line-height: 48px;"><a href="https://www.annedover.co.uk/anne-dover/">https://www.annedover.co.uk/anne-dover/</a></span></span></p></h4><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="line-height: 48px;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 28.0001px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 24px;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></p><p> </p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-25704090776852314482021-12-15T12:12:00.002+00:002021-12-15T12:16:30.364+00:00SIBLINGS: My stories on Christmas Radio<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">In my last post here on Life Twice Tasted <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(scroll down) I outlined my adventures during
Lockdown on the borderline between memoir and fiction as I worked, story by
story,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on this new <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>short story collection <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SIBLINGS. In it I argued that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– like many writers of fiction – I am exploring
the gap between fiction and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the uniquely true
nature of a family’s history, grounded as it is in intricate and deeply
observed family experience and liberated by the freedom of creative
storytelling.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">At last in SIBLINGS <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have now completed the seven stories that
are the essential truth emerging from a family spanning the first half of the
20<sup>th</sup> century. In this process Ayla, the middle sibling, is the
storyteller for all the family. One by one she tells the complex stories of her
four sisters and two brothers. These children are not alike.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ayla tells each story with her acute, sometimes
idiosyncratic, observations of her much-loved family.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">In the long term SIBLINGS has an over-
arching narrative linking 1922 to 2022 –starting in 1922 when Ayla is telling
us the individual stories of her sisters and brothers, living in a small house
in a Durham street under the magisterial care of their ‘Mam’, widowed by the
First World War. But the final curve of the arch reached <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">me, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i>writing these stories during
the Covid confinement of 21/22. I am sitting here telling the unique stories of
the seven siblings in Ayla’s voice, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>truly walking the line between memoir and
fiction. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">As an experience of writing, this process
has the quality of a dream as each distinctive sibling comes to life before me,
flowing through the ink of my pen onto the page of my notebook.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">My original idea was to record the
stories and one by one and provide links to them here on my blog, so you could
hear them as well as read the text. For this purpose I turned to <b>Anne Dover </b>the brilliant professional actress who has narrated a number of my novel into
audio. Anne has the perfect voice for my Durham prose, incorporating the
musicality with quiet authority and capturing the nuances, the soft tones of
our way of speaking. Although she has travelled far and wide with her
profession, Anne originally comes from Wolsingham in County Durham, so she starts
with an advantage here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">For the final audio edit on the
first story BRAM, I turned to <b>Gillian Campbell</b> of Bishop FM. Having done a great
job on this. Gillian suggested to me that the radio station would be interested in
broadcasting the SIBLING stories. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">So now it turns out – with the
collaboration of<b> Gary Burgham,</b> the Bishop FM programme director - that the
seven stories which constitute siblings will be broadcast beginning at 2pm on
Christmas Eve.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">I will also post them here on my
blog week by week. If you would like to see the first of the sibling stories –
the story of BRAM the oldest brother – you will note that <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the whole text of that story is posted in full
on my previous blog post. (Scroll back…). <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">After they are broadcasts you will be able to listen to </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">to Anne Dover's wonderful narrations. </span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"> again here and on Bishop FM .</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;">So this is my Christmas present to <i>you </i>- all the great people who have
shown an interest in my work both recently and through the years when my novels
emerged into the light</span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">.<o:p></o:p></span></p><h1 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter; font-size: large;">Wendy R x</span></span></h1><div><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;"><br /></span></span></div><h3 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"></h3><h4 style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">From </span>Gary Burgham<span style="font-weight: normal;"> Programme Director of Bishop FM at</span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span face=""Google Sans Text", arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; font-weight: 400; text-align: start;"> </span><a href="https://www.bishopfm.com/" style="background-color: white; color: #4b11a8; font-family: "Google Sans Text", arial, sans-serif; font-size: medium; font-weight: 400; text-align: start;">https://www.bishopfm.com/</a><span face=""Google Sans Text", arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: medium; font-weight: 400; text-align: start;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><i><span style="background: white; color: red; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">Bishop Auckland</span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: red; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">author Wendy Robertson has been working on a collection of
short stories entitled SIBLINGS, told by the eleven year old middle Sibling,
Ayla, set primarily in the year 1922. Although the seven siblings from whom the
stories spring are genetically connected to each other and in the
subsequent generations genetically connected to the author, these stories
will essentially be pure fiction, shot through with fragments of
the author's true memory. Siblings will be read by </span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: red; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;">actor Anne Peacock who originates from Wolsingham</span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: red; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> </span></i><i><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri;"> and can be heard on
Bishop FM on Christmas eve at 2pm and at 2pm each day thereafter.</span></i><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e;"> </span></span></div></h4><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></p><h4 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><p><span style="font-size: x-large;"><i><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;">Visit Anne Dover, the gifted narrator of SIBLINGS<br /></span></i><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: Architects Daughter;">at<br /></span></span><span style="line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://www.annedover.co.uk/anne-dover/">https://www.annedover.co.uk/anne-dover/</a></span></span></p></h4><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;"></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"><br /></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"> .<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-18266050651224150632021-10-21T16:16:00.001+01:002021-10-27T14:19:57.163+01:00Dancing the Shadowy Line Between Memoir and Fiction<p> </p><h2 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Dancing the Shadowy Line Between Memoir and Fiction</span></b></h2><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><br /></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;">I don’t</span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"> <span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><b> </b></span></span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">know whether it’s the Lockdown or the enclosed life of being a carer -- (the latter being a version of Lockdown, I suppose) - but the notion of </span><i style="font-size: 14pt;">memoir </i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">is very much on my mind these days.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In
my rare moments of literary reflection I am working on a collection of short
stories emerging from the lives of seven siblings in the nexus of 1922. This collection
will be entitled SIBLINGS.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
am driven to think so deeply about this shadowy line between memoir and fiction
because I will be enjoying the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>privilege
next Sunday 24<sup>th</sup> of October of being part of the <a href="https://www.facebook.com/WeardaleWordFest/" target="_blank"><strong><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0cm;">Weardale
WordFest 2021</span></strong> 2<strong><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="border: 1pt none windowtext; padding: 0cm;">2-
24 October</span></strong> </a></span> </p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; vertical-align: baseline;"><strong><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="border: 1pt none windowtext; font-size: 14pt; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; padding: 0cm;">My role in Stanhope on Sunday afternoon will</span></strong><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> be to have tea and cakes with readers and writers and share a conversation
about living a writer’s life and the instinctual function of memory in my
novels and stories. See them </span><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="http://lifetwicetasted.blogspot.com/p/all-my-books-on-kindle-and-hard-copy_27.html" target="_blank">HERE</a></span><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I have just posted about my ideas
about all this HERE on my blog. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In thinking about this theme of
the shadowy line between fiction an memoir I will certainly touch on<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>my current<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>writing project <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Siblings,</i></b><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a collection of seven individual stories
called told by the eleven year old middle Sibling, Ayl<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">a</b>, set primarily <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in the year
1922.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Although
the seven siblings from whom the stories spring are genetically connected to
each other and in the subsequent <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>generations genetically connected to me, these
stories will essentially <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>be pure
fiction, just as my <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>numerous published
novels and short stories are pure fiction, although – as I will explain - they
are shot through <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with fragments of true memory
- my own and others’. These seven stories told from the point of view of the this
middle child are entirely separate, each Sibling existing in their own
universe,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In
my own substantial writing life I’ve come to realise that literary expression
and story-making are not the purview of the privileged literary middle classes.
My own life experience informs me that
depth and quality of literary expression is embedded the conscious experience
of every family where literate reflection and story-telling is an ongoing
aspect of that family environment, whatever their cultural location in our
multi-layered society. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Holding
this view I now take note of a new awareness of this in the welcome flowering of
attention from publishers, agents and reviewers of writing emerging from
previously marginalised social and racial groups in our society. I welcome this
with a full heart. It is overdue.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
have observed that in my own marginalised group at the bottom of the class
structure in English society, that the custom of intricate in intergenerational
storytelling has served as the key to our literary existence and educational
success. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This view is informed by the
fact that my own family emerges from the so-called “disadvantaged” working
class, being “Northern”, working class and originally in manual jobs if working
at all. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
am very much aware of the convenient category of so called Working Class
Writing and Kitchen Sink Drama that emerged in the twentieth Century English
Canon. And I do admire the work of people like Sid Chaplin, Jack Common, James
Kelman and William McIlvanney. However I worry that the working class works can
be prone to sentimental memorialising which can serve to prevent proper insight
into the rich complexities of working class family life located as it is at the
margins of English society. Often it seems to me that little of this output
been properly recognised as literature rather than occasionally entertaining
illustrations of an alien life form.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Of
course you will tell me that the books are there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A valuable Guardian piece from 2018<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>lists books in which ‘working class’ heroes
are<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>defined by<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>courage and fortitude and political
significance. </span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/jun/06/top-10-working-class-heroes-in-books">https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/jun/06/top-10-working-class-heroes-in-books</a></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/jun/06/top-10-working-class-heroes-in-books " target="_blank"> </a><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it is of interest that all of these
referred <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>books, except one, feature men<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and subjects and male preoccupation in the
fields of<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>war, politics, protest and
urban survival. There is praise for their talents in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">overcoming </i>the early disadvantage of working class environment and
origins.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Fair
enough! There are some honourable mainstream works here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">However
in my view the key to the best of literature is the positive and intricate
aspects of the story of lives lived which can create and inform heroism in all
its aspects, domestic or otherwise. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<h3 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So, you may say, what about you Wendy?</span></i></h3>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
suppose my own writing is speckled with the benefits of being born into what
some would call this disadvantaged life. One of my earliest memories is sitting
under the table in a cluttered somewhat neglected room, listening to my mother
and her sisters telling and repeating stories emerging from their own lives , from
their mother and father’s lives and their grandparents lives going back more
than two generations. The stories had been shared, modified and developed time
and time again through the decades, through the century.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Er… don’t
you remember? That’s wrong. The truth is, she …” <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Within
this family details of memory have been worked over again and again like the
fine stitches finishing off an elaborate piece of embroidery. And in the
retelling of the stories, each story-teller would incorporate elements of her
own life experience to embellish, deepen and contextualise the meaning of the
story.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">More
recently I have been thinking that there is possibly a genetic instinctual element
to my own story which <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>informs <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> my </span>own lifelong<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>storytelling instinct and continues to have an impact the children and
grandchildren of the seven siblings who are the leading characters in my new
collection.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In
my own family’s case<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this custom, practice, and focus of encoding
family life<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>into stories has proved itself in various ways
facilitating a deeper understanding of the literature and various other texts
that we read – a world away from the cluttered working class house. This custom
somehow engendered the passing of exams, the apprehending of stories in other
languages, through to the taking up of professions involving teaching, high
class journalism, even the creative problem-solving in the world of scientific research.
As well as this, building, making, writing, painting and other creative preoccupations
have evolved into a generation which is manifestly successful in the complex
modern world. I am now thinking that such progress is achieved, not <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">despite</i> the disadvantaged working class
family origins but because of the unique nature of that family’s history
grounded as it is in intricate and deeply observed family experience.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">My
own family heritage is significantly Celtic – part Scottish, part Welsh with a
smidgen of Irish. And now I am thinking of the Celtic custom of relating ancient
tribal history and politics through storytelling. I note that this cultural identity
is reflected in many of my o</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">wn longer novels and particularly explicitly in my
novel set in post-Roman Britain called </span><i style="font-size: 14pt;">The
Pathfinder. </i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">And now I can trace this instinct in all of my novels, whether they
are set in Nineteenth Century County Durham, in 1938 Spain, in 1941 Singapore
or in mid-20</span><sup>th</sup><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> century France.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfrtoPokRNGOV53MDCGJ6P9NqDuY7-K0vsbf78hWYpcQajeEKWSczCUvzWe8WoF119su2Tv7LOqTWlmeQTS-9n2yjyevTQQ5YkASFljD064Nmbi0LcPfPWpwfqd1duMT0FAeBctXJPwmA/s939/BookCoverPreview+Pathfinder.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="666" data-original-width="939" height="162" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfrtoPokRNGOV53MDCGJ6P9NqDuY7-K0vsbf78hWYpcQajeEKWSczCUvzWe8WoF119su2Tv7LOqTWlmeQTS-9n2yjyevTQQ5YkASFljD064Nmbi0LcPfPWpwfqd1duMT0FAeBctXJPwmA/w229-h162/BookCoverPreview+Pathfinder.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;">While I work on these ideas I am
beginning to realise how the significance of </span><i style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"><u>work</u></i><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;">
is woven an individual’s experience of a particular family ethos. This is
definitely the case with each of the seven Siblings in my collection. To
illustrate this you might like to read the first story </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"> </span><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;">in the
collection. This is the story of the eldest Sibling, </span><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"><i>Bram.</i></b></div><p></p>
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can read it HERE.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="has-text-align-center" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 1cm;"><b style="text-indent: 1cm;"><span style="font-family: "Felix Titling"; font-size: 26pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Bram</span></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 82.75pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"">1922</span></b><span face=""Arial","sans-serif""> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">January
22 British Troops roll over Dublin’s Cobbled streets<o:p></o:p></b></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 82.75pt; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"">and
take up positions on the docks and market areas<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">So. There
is this man in our Front Room. Our Dee whispers in my ear that he’s this big
man from the pit. He’s sitting on the horsehair sofa talking to our Mam, his
flowing tweed coat unbuttoned and his white silk muffler tight around his neck.
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Our Mam is sitting on the music stool in front of the harmonium
on which she plays each night after we’ve gone to bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She practices for the Sunday services. She
plays at Sunday services on Sunday mornings at our own chapel and at the Welsh
chapel at Chilton at the evening service. She makes us go to the services at
our own chapel but we don’t have to bother with the Welsh chapel, where the
words are all jumbled up. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s not
jumbled for Mam, of course – her being proper Welsh. Our Eirwen does go there,
as she always clings to Mam and is a bit daft that way. But at least she gets
to speak a bit of Welsh so that’s probably a good thing.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Anyway, here now in our Front Room is this this big man in
the big coat. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We’re all here, even
though we’re never normally allowed in the Front Room. Mostly we’re just in the
kitchen and the scullery. The Front Room is for best.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">But now, here we are - me, Eirwen and our Dee (whose
Scottish name is Deoiridh), our Aderyn (whose Welsh name means<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> bird</i> but round here they call her Ada
which means nothing). We are all sitting on the chairs lined up against the
back wall, Breedlen (whose Welsh name means <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">helper</i>
but round here they call her Bree) and our young Evan, are sitting cross-legged
in front of the fire. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Well, Mrs Angus...’ The man’s voice sounds like a kind
of whispery roar. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘We know your lad Bram
is a good scholar. Your Jimmy’s friends tell us that.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Mam nods, her eyes wary at the mention of our Da’s
name.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She sits up straighter on the
stool. ‘Our Bram passed the School Leaving Certificate when he was 12 and they
let him leave school then.’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She speaks
in English but her words swim up and down in that Welsh way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">The big man crosses his legs and leans back on the
horsehair sofa, which creaks. ‘Like I say, a clever lad. They tell me that he’s
working in that tailor shop on the High Street?’ He raises his eyebrows.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Mam nods. She's proud of our Bram. ‘Yes,’ she says. ‘He’s
apprenticed to the clerk there. Only got the job, look you, because he's a good
scholar.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘Mmm,’ He grunts.
‘No pay, like?’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">‘He’ll start on a wage on Boxing Day.’ Mam’s lips close
tight together. Tight.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">He strokes his bristly chin. ‘That’s as mebbe, Mrs Angus.’
He pauses. The ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece is very loud. Then he
coughs. ‘Your Jimmy did all right down the pit didn’t he? Got to be deb’ty when
he was not much more than a lad. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
was before he volunteered, like, in fourteen.’ He pauses. Then he looks around
at us one by one. I shrink back. ‘And left you with seven bairns to keep.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Her eyes, cold as ice now, look him up and down. He
glances around our Front Room with the clock on the mantelpiece and the bulky
harmonium bought second-hand for her by my Granda so she would play in the
services in his Welsh chapel. After my Da died in the war he sent us a bag of boots
leftover his spare time job as a cobbler. All boys’ boots of course. Me, I
refused to wear them, although our Dee loves hers and wears them when she goes
out to play chasey and football with the lads.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Now here in the Front Room the big man coughs and nods
his head. ‘Well, like, I have instructions from Mr Stevenson to talk to you
about all this.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Bree’s voice tickles my ear. ‘Mr Stevenson’s <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i> big boss at the pit.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">The man’s thick fingers stroke his bristly chin again. ‘Well,
Mrs Angus, it’s three years now, isn’t it, since we lost Jimmy and all our
other lads? And we see even now that Jimmy’s a big miss to you as well as the pit.’
He pauses and examines his fingernails.’ But in these years since the war, haven’t
you had this colliery house in this fine row?’<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He looks again around the bright Front Room ‘And of course the coal for
your fire.’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">A dark cloud settles now around us. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">He coughs. ‘Well, Mrs Angus, it boils down to this. Mr
Stevenson says I should explain that there’s talk of new men coming up from
Cornwall to fill the gaps left in the workforce by the war. And the houses – only
granted to working miners - are needed for their families.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Mam sighs very loudly and I want to cry. Then she puts
her hands together as though she’s praying and looks around the room. ‘You want
us out, then?’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">The big man coughs yet again. ‘Mebbe that won’t quite be
necessary, Mrs Angus.’ He surveys us, one by one. ‘How old is your oldest again?
The one that works at the tailor’s?’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Our Bram’ll be fourteen next Monday.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">‘Well then! There’s a solution to your problem. The lad’s
fit enough to work in the pit isn’t he? Then he’ll be your working miner. So
you can keep your house and your coal. And, being a clever lad, he won’t start at
the very bottom.’ The big man stands up, re-buttons his topcoat and reties his
muffler. ‘So you’ll think about this Mrs Angus?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">She hauls herself to her feet and turns towards the front
door. Like the Front Room, it’s rarely used. The last time it was used was when
an officer in DLI uniform brought the letter from the army to say how brave our
Da had been and how the King was proud of him. I was only seven then but I
remember it like it was yesterday. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Now the big man shakes Mam’s hand and looks her in the
eye. ‘Come Monday I’ll get Tab Smith, who worked marras with your Jimmy, to
call here for your lad at half five sharp. Tab’ll take it him in-bye and make
sure he gets to know the ropes from the start.’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Mam tries to pull her hand away, but he clutches it more
closely. ‘It’s the only way, Mrs Angus. It’s for the best, you know it and I know
it.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">She slams the door behind him and stands with her back to
it. Her eyes glittering and her teeth clenched. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">We know that look. We begin to melt away through the
middle door and make our way through the kitchen, through the scullery and down
the backyard. We race out onto the Green behind the houses where Bree has a
store of clay which we can make into beads and buttons to bake them on a tray
in the oven. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">At 8
o’clock my brother Bram marches down the yard in his shiny black shoes and leaps
straight upstairs to hang up his white shirt his jacket in his black trousers.
He comes down in bare feet wearing an old shirt and sits at the kitchen table now
spread by Mam with a white cloth, on the end of which Mam has spread a white
cloth. Bram sits down and bends his long gangly body over the table, his mop of
black hair falling over his eyes. (The rest of them have shiny black hair like
Mam’s. All except me, that is. My hair is rusty red like my Da’s. My Mam told
me once not to worry about that, as the Queen of the Icenae had red hair and
she was a brave woman.)<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Bram grins across at Ada and me, his white teeth flashing.
In front of him on the table is his meat and potato pie. It was made by Ada,
who is now Mam’s right-hand-woman in the house. She gets to stay off school on
Monday to help Mam with the washing, and on Wednesdays for the ironing and
baking. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bram spears his fork into the crisp golden
pastry. Mam stands watching him, her back to the roaring fire, her arms folded.
The rest of us – all six of us – are scattered around the room in our
nightclothes. Bree is sitting on a wooden cracket, her hands busy with her knitting
needles. Deirdre is leaning on the windowsill humming a tune. Evan is leaning the
fireguard at Mam’s knees. And our Eirwen is staring dreamily out of the window.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Bram grins across at Mam. ‘Real good, these taties, Ma. Has
Uncle Davey been over?’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wipes his
mouth with the back of his hand. At last he notices the silence in the room
turns to cast his eye over each of us. Eventually he looks at Mam and smiles
his sweet smile. ‘Now, Mam, I was wondering what you’re gunna give us for me
birthday. Is it a secret?’<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt 75.65pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She shakes her
head, her eyes cold. ‘The pit, Bram. Your birthday present is the pit.’ <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="paragraph" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt -1.1pt; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="paragraph" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt -1.1pt; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">On the Monday all of us
except Dee are watching for Bram to come home from the pit. Dee is off with
some lads down in the woods because her mate Bobby Vann says he’s seen them
dancing down there. The rest of us hear<span class="normaltextrun"> the sneck on
the back gate click and we watch as Bram comes down the yard. His brow and his
chin of his face are as black as his hair. His jacket and shirt are grey with
coal dust. When he sees us his white teeth gleam in his face. <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="paragraph" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt -1.1pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="normaltextrun"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">We are prepared; Bree has hauled in the tin bath from the
yard. Bree has filled it with hot water using the long handled ladle to dip
into the boiler beside the fire. Mam has set the big clotheshorse around the
bath and draped sheets over it. For Bram’s modesty, like. Evan’s job is to be
at the ready to scrub his brother’s back with soap and the rough flannel. We
can hear the boys laughing and talking behind the makeshift screen. Then we
watch as Bram’s clean shirt and trousers vanish from the clothes-horse. And so,
before our eyes, he emerges from his tent, his face shining and clean except
for the glamorous black lines around his eyes. </span></span><span class="eop"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></span><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="paragraph" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt -1.1pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="normaltextrun"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">He sits down at the table opposite Mam, who is ladling
rabbit stew onto a plate for him. She nods at him her face bland. ‘Well son’
she says, 'How was the pit then?’ </span></span><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="paragraph" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt -1.1pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="normaltextrun"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p class="paragraph" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt -1.1pt; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="normaltextrun"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">Post Scriptum</span></i></span><span class="eop"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></i></span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 9pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="paragraph" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt -1.1pt; text-align: justify; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="normaltextrun"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">So
there you are. Our Bram worked down the pit from when he was fourteen until he
was sixty two years old. In that time he made good progress up the complicated
professional pit ladder. Like our Da <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jimmy
he became a Deputy at a young age. And in the following years he became a great
expert on the intricacy of the seams of coal and the mines that crisscrossed
the underworld of County Durham. Interestingly some of them have women’s names
such as Beamish Mary, Ravensworth Betty and Emma. Others have historic names
like Ladysmith. Others are named for places like Newton Cap, Princes Street
Drift, Throstle Gill and Hole in the Wall.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="paragraph" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt -1.1pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 1cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span class="normaltextrun"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">It all remained poetry to him. The world underground the green
surface of our county was his universe.</span></span><span class="eop"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> All
his life h</span></span><span class="normaltextrun"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">e was driven to talk about
this world to whoever would listen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
Bram truly was a good scholar and his university was the pit.</span></span><span class="eop"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">1922.</span></i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"> <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">February
16. Unemployment now over one million<o:p></o:p></b></span></i></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;">including
348,000 ex-servicemen,</span></i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<span class="eop"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br clear="all" style="break-before: page; mso-special-character: line-break; page-break-before: always;" />
</span></i></span>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="eop"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></span></p>
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="has-text-align-center" style="background: white; line-height: 150%; vertical-align: baseline;"><span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-84141584795782477112021-08-07T14:47:00.010+01:002021-08-09T10:51:51.484+01:00<h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <b style="text-align: center;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">Blossoming
Bishop Auckland - Mark One</span></b></span></h2>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
gave up on Enid Blyton when I was seven and graduated in the following years of
childhood to Emily E Nesbitt, J M Barrie, P L Travers, Arthur Ransome Allison
Uttley, Geoffrey Trease and Rider Haggard. And of course the immaculate sisters
Emily and Charlotte Bronte. My destination of choice was Spennymoor library,
located then in a converted double fronted house in Clyde Terrace at the end of
my house in the street of two-up and two-down houses, where I lived with my
three siblings and widowed mother.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">By
the time I was 12 I was reading five or six books a week courtesy of this
wonderful library. I would go to the library for four or five times week both
to change my own books and the change books for my mother, whose taste ranged
from Ethel M Dell and Barbara Cartland to Charles Dickens.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So,
coming from an apparently poor home, this library proved to be the oyster from
which – more than my grammar school – I could access and savour pearls of
wisdom and human insight which nurtured my innate intelligence and gave me the
whole world.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Off
one corner of one of the well-stocked library rooms there was a long narrow
space – probably formerly a larder – with a long surface from end to end with a
row of seats. This was specially installed so that children from crowded houses
like mine could come to do their homework and their reading in peace.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">This
is the library where a librarian Marion would suss out my taste and find books
and save them for me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">A
generation later, after in a lifetime as a teacher and writer, my go-to library
was in Bishop Auckland Town Hall, in walking distance from my home which is itself
now is as lined with books is that Spennymoor library. For many years Bishop
Auckland Town Hall’s splendid library – plus art gallery and theatre - was
managed by librarian magician called Gillian Wales who became my friend. I
spent many hours there researching and writing my novels, running a writing
group and giving writing workshops and guidance to aspiring writers. It was
always a most welcoming, civilised and inspirational space.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But
that was then, this is now! The Town Hall has been closed during the Covid pandemic
and subsequently – undergone refurbishment as part of some wonderful
developments in the new emergence of Bishop Auckland under the benevolent aegis
of the amazing <a href="https://www.thenorthernecho.co.uk/news/19033525.ruffer-revolution/ " target="_blank">Jonathan Ruffer.</a> <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Sadly,
the whole building, behind its familiar Victorian façade, has now been modernised
out of all recognition. Without the subtle leadership of Gillian Wales* the
library has now been diminished into a negligible, less accessible space, among
other fluidly unrecognisable spaces. I am left to wonder how many book-hungry twelve-year-old children like me from crowded indigent households
would find this in any way enabling, engaging and inspiring as was the little
Spennymoor library to me.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<h4 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">*My daughter reminds that the late great gardener
Rosemary Verey, is alleged</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> to have said. </span><i style="font-size: 14pt;">‘A garden never outlives its gardener.’ </i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">This seems so in the case of super-librarian
Gillian Wales </span><span style="font-size: 14pt;">and her Bishop Auckland Library.<br /></span><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></h4>
<h2 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><b><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;">Blossoming
Bishop Auckland - Mark Two</span></span></b></h2>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Bu-u-t
there are more optimistic signs in this wonderful town. After being locked down
and virtually locked in in the last 18 months I am wondering Newgate Street –
the main street of Bishop Auckland – I am having coffee with my daughter in the
excellent new café<a href="https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Restaurant_Review-g191258-d21055082-Reviews-The_Fox_s_Tale-Bishop_Auckland_County_Durham_England.html" target="_blank"> The Fox’s Tale</a>.</span> <span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> It is
full and quite busy, which is a nice
thing to see. We sip our excellent coffee and look out of the window onto the
marketplace which is at last regaining some of its former sense of busyness and
occasion. A horse and buggy passes with three children aboard.</span><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">We
make our way back down the street and come upon what looks at first glance like
a bookshop. It is beautifully laid out with a whole range of well-organised
books standing to attention with here and there is a chair to sit on. We choose
some books which definitely meet our varied tastes but discover we are not
obliged to pay for them. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<span face=""Calibri","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-GB; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It
turns out that this shop, run by very friendly volunteers, is called<b></b></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><b style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;"><a href="https:www.facebook.com/GetFreeBooksBishopAucklandAt14" target="_blank">Get FreeBooks Bishop Auckland At 14.</a> (Facebook Page)</b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"> </span><span style="font-size: large;">It turns out that this wonderful place is part
of the global educational trust which focuses on self-help within communities. It very much involves children and families.</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"> Look it up at <a href="http://www.globaleducationaltrust.org/" target="_blank">Global Education Trust</a></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgByMh_d-ELOo2xFGFucrQmK6mQTs7ont29JlwhLWPs4VSXGv92EW8lB1HlrTVAqpmP9U8E5TnFnw8pqF0JMFYjqtxUFz1Hk8u-RYUaKIC54GfUvQM3oHUbQlr50DM_EWd69mTr_q3XEvI/s1440/231792375_330839685426143_1425083151530288119_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1080" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgByMh_d-ELOo2xFGFucrQmK6mQTs7ont29JlwhLWPs4VSXGv92EW8lB1HlrTVAqpmP9U8E5TnFnw8pqF0JMFYjqtxUFz1Hk8u-RYUaKIC54GfUvQM3oHUbQlr50DM_EWd69mTr_q3XEvI/s320/231792375_330839685426143_1425083151530288119_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"></p><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Our
venture this morning certainly adds something of a balance to the sad
downgrading of Bishop Auckland library in the context of upgrading lovely
Bishop Auckland itself.</span></h3><p style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; text-align: left;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Inside
the shop my own (now very grown-up) daughter picks up glossy books on France
and French cuisine (to contribute to her research on her next book) and I pick
up a novel set in Imperial Rome. And then she comes upon a novel of mine called
<i>No Rest for the Wicked,</i> which just happens
to be set in Bishop Auckland and features in the narrative the colourful Bishop
Auckland Theatre. She holds it up in the air and gestures to me. I am pleased and
slightly embarrassed, but delighted that someone may come and pick this up for
free and take it home to enjoy reading it. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">One
of the very welcoming volunteers – who is also a ceramicist - tells me that
they are short of my titles in their collection. So I make a mental note to
walk along to donate a few titles. It is my community after all. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Now
here I am, thinking that my 12 year old self would be very happy to be walking
into this shop and picking up some favourite authors to take home to my narrow
street house and to read it for free. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 150%;">So
you can see very clearly how happy I am </span>that my lovely Bishop Auckland is blossoming
yet again.</span></p><h4 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></span></h4><h4><span><span style="font-size: large;"><span face=""Arial Unicode MS", sans-serif" style="font-weight: normal;">A suggestion for you: if you are from this
region please visit </span><span face=""Arial Unicode MS", sans-serif" style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><span face=""Arial Unicode MS", sans-serif" style="font-weight: normal;">number 14 Newgate
Street and take away books for yourself to treasure. Or you may drop some off
to share them with others. If you are not from this region check out <a href="http://www.globaleducationaltrust.org/" target="_blank">Global Education Trust</a> </span></span></span></h4><h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-family: "Arial Unicode MS", sans-serif;"><br /></i><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Find
Debora Robertson at </span><a href="http://deborarobertson.com/" style="font-family: Garamond, serif;" target="_blank">deborarobertson.com</a></span></h3><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUepmPNT7P-fB8iV6DF7BdctVGATbnYIUV4o8NsQ_E21b6IZ_due6xl6azxML7pNDwMEZGqfIzXRSXQ_vVDqrPRXe34sLb3MRUaSwPdx9j5pDP-NKHKKRADlAOFSTWoJDHBTV_ioCy2Cc/s500/51J3LqHEo1L.SX316.SY480._SL500_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="312" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUepmPNT7P-fB8iV6DF7BdctVGATbnYIUV4o8NsQ_E21b6IZ_due6xl6azxML7pNDwMEZGqfIzXRSXQ_vVDqrPRXe34sLb3MRUaSwPdx9j5pDP-NKHKKRADlAOFSTWoJDHBTV_ioCy2Cc/s320/51J3LqHEo1L.SX316.SY480._SL500_.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>
<h3 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><b><div style="text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></b></div></b><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> </span></div></span></h3>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-41899477947780874142021-03-18T16:25:00.027+00:002021-03-18T19:29:18.162+00:00 Dreams and Nightmares In A Long Life.<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span>Featured in </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">my new
collection<b><i>, </i></b></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><i>With Such Caution</i>,</span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"> are poems springing out of elements reflected
in my notebooks over the last 50 years. What has emerged from this process of sifting
and editing </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">is </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">a kind of hybrid of memoir and poetry
reflecting the light and shade, the sunshine and shadows all experienced in a long
life.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I have found as </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">the notebook entries were transmuted by the febrile abstraction </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">of poetry, that I started to recognise - among brighter notions and perceptions - a sprinkling
of poems </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">involving dark dreams and even nightmares
in a long life.</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;"> <br /></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">Possibly because I am a
child of World War Two I have remembered dreams I had in the bed which I
shared with my sister, in the house where I lived until I was seven.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgBEiCoIx4ZFAEGTkgtUZ_EYyF178dX8mLCgXykkhbHib5RMaVl4PFKqeAQSZ3vnIpSnF8i759o1yiw1ib-2x_BTyIND3oRV9usYW1ZYIk-2TtJDeG4t7GQOtp9KgvdZQrkOO0Gl56Ss/s564/Young+Wendy+%25282%2529_LI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="564" data-original-width="408" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgBEiCoIx4ZFAEGTkgtUZ_EYyF178dX8mLCgXykkhbHib5RMaVl4PFKqeAQSZ3vnIpSnF8i759o1yiw1ib-2x_BTyIND3oRV9usYW1ZYIk-2TtJDeG4t7GQOtp9KgvdZQrkOO0Gl56Ss/s320/Young+Wendy+%25282%2529_LI.jpg" /></a></div><br /></span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p> In that time, in that bed, </o:p></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">I distinctly remember dreaming of invasion, in the form of </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif;">uniformed hordes coming up the stairs of that
house in Lancaster,<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was a dream. It didn’t literally happen!<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">But several of the poems
in <i>With Such Caution</i> illustrate the impact of dark dreams successively on the consciousness
of the little girl as she grows up to become a teacher, a feminist, a novelist
and writer, a mentor, a wife, a lover, a mother - <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in various combinations - through a long life.<br /></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><o:p> <br /></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;">Of course this dark aspect
combines with the lighter elements – light and shade juxtaposed -- and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>has contributed to perhaps a more abstract
notion of a lived life, which makes <i>With Such Caution</i> much more than a
straight memoir. </span></span></div><h3 style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><b>An Example:-</b></span></h3>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: center;"><b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">The poem here below - perhaps the darkest in the
collection<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>– finally written in 2002 – reflects
some of the darkest aspects of the dreaming and</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"> the feelings that still haunt me.<u><o:p></o:p></u></span></i></b></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: center; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p><u><b> </b></u></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Tin Drum Beat<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Lady of shadow, where do you walk?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Come into the light<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">let me see you more clearly,<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Grasping existence with your metal fingers<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Sitting there hearthside to knit up the world<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">your face set hard to<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the distance of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>time,.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Your green-coin head turns this way and that,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">viewing the treeless spread of the city..<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Still you stay there at the edge of the dark<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">walking the streets with your diamond tread<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">beating the drum <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with your <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>tough metal fingers -<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">choosing the child for the next conflagration<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Lady of shadow, where are you walking?<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Come into the light<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Let me see you more clearly<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">You turn into an alley, darker than Hades,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">and confront a boy whose eyes cannot see.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Your gaze pierces through the husk of his eyelid<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">igniting his soul to the darkness ahead,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Lady of shadows<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Come into the light<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Let me see you more clearly<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I’m running before you, afraid of your gaze<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">afraid of your hands with their tin-drum-beat<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">afraid of your eyes, those glittering<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>emeralds,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">afraid of the high-heeled click of your feet<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 0cm; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 0cm 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Lady of shadows why do you follow?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 47.3pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 47.3pt 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">I turn in the dark to meet your embrace.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 47.3pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 47.3pt 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Nov 29.02<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 47.3pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 47.3pt 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 47.3pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 47.3pt 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">Fragments of this poem are in several of the<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 47.3pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 47.3pt 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">notebooks. Perhaps this piece shows how<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 47.3pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 47.3pt 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">close are one’s dreams and nightmares<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 47.3pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 47.3pt 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 10pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;">in a world where the imagination rules.<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; margin-left: 42.55pt; margin-right: 47.3pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 47.3pt 0cm 42.55pt; text-align: right; text-indent: 70.9pt;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="right" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 10.0pt; margin-left: -2.85pt; margin-right: 47.3pt; margin-top: 0cm; margin: 0cm 47.3pt 10pt -2.85pt; text-align: right;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p>
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<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-left: 47.3pt; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 14pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial;"><o:p> </o:p></span></b><span color="inherit" style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting", "Apple Chancery", cursive; font-size: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit; font-weight: inherit;">Wendy Robertson</span></p><div style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; color: #5133ab; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; text-align: center; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font-size: 11pt; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;"><b style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased;">Blog: </b></i></span><i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; 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font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"> </span></span></i></p><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-caps: inherit; font-variant-ligatures: inherit;"><span style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 1pt none windowtext; font-family: inherit; font-size: 16pt; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: bold; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0cm; vertical-align: baseline;"><span color="inherit" face=""Calibri Light", "Helvetica Light", sans-serif" style="-webkit-font-smoothing: antialiased; border: 0px; font-size: 11pt; font-stretch: inherit; font-style: inherit; font-variant: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></i></div></div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-5757460843399445762021-03-04T12:45:00.354+00:002021-03-06T12:46:05.918+00:00With Such Caution - A Life Glimpsed in Short Pieces<p style="text-align: left;"><i><span style="font-size: large;">‘I think With Such Caution is alive, raw in its emotional reach, finely polished in its language, and has a universal relevance.’ A.J.</span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjef4xJ4l7PU7-NLLd1W_g_MxMSdzzhNda6EhWKjWL03R2qOKkn8IOhehmz4OFE6tVdS7yl_2MbX_BRGcXMkPyPQ8ROgbe5SfIX1wP-ghKbKFiY3B6zi7JbzxeWI2yBFvOjxtBXmja4sQI/s2048/Wendy+font+cover+FINAL+J+peg.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjef4xJ4l7PU7-NLLd1W_g_MxMSdzzhNda6EhWKjWL03R2qOKkn8IOhehmz4OFE6tVdS7yl_2MbX_BRGcXMkPyPQ8ROgbe5SfIX1wP-ghKbKFiY3B6zi7JbzxeWI2yBFvOjxtBXmja4sQI/s320/Wendy+font+cover+FINAL+J+peg.jpg" /></a></i></div><p></p><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">The bright spot in my lockdown year – drenched as it was with the caring, health preoccupations, peripheral boredom and occasional panic - found real value for me in the form of my self-elected task of collecting short pieces sometimes called poems from 50 years of my working notebooks.</span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></div><div style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Cheered on by my friend t</span><span style="font-size: large;">he fine poet and novelist <a href="https://www.avriljoy.com/">Avril Joy</a> and literary scholar Donna Maynard - who is fascinated by the notion of archive - this very special collection has finally blossomed during this year of confinement.</span></div><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><br />My hundred or so notebooks have served through the decades as my best friends, my confidantes, my research assistants and my counsellors. In this way this Lockdown Year has given me the space to survey my notebooks, harvesting short pieces which – I discovered – had captured a range of universal truths about my life as though they were butterflies in a net. So I have spent this fallow time exploring these harvested pieces and moulding, editing and refining them to the point where they have revealed true elements of my whole - pretty long - life.</span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><br />So these poems are pure glimpses of a long life - some glimpses recalled again 30 or 40 years later; most of them written on the cusp of the events that inspired them, to be revisited during this fallow year and re-interpreted as I reflected on them afresh.</span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><br />‘<i>I think your voice is one of the collection's great strengths, I hear it speak clearly and candidly throughout and, among other things, it sounds frank, intelligent, intellectually curious, honest, questioning, hurt, warm, amused, reflective, probing and combative. It is a great idea also to include footnotes which add another aspect or layer of voice as if you are speaking directly to the reader.’ DM.</i></span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><i><br /></i>And now I have moved on to the complex process of publishing this collection - a very different process from from the more familiar tasks of writing and editing my own work. Here was a very different category of decision-making. Readers of this blog wilI know that I have embraced this new publishing process several times before but it is never easy. It is so much more challenging, in my view, than actually writing my long novels (see list on the right) which were published by mainstream publishers.</span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><br /><i>‘I am wholly convinced of the value of short pieces/ poetry as memoir. It is every bit as much, as authentic and true, as any prose account and there are ways in which it gets beneath the skin of a life to the deep self - in a way - to the soul. AJ.)</i></span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></i><span style="font-weight: normal;">One important decision was the title: after much head-wrangling I decided it would be <i>With Such Caution -</i> borrowing the title from one of the pieces in the collection: </span></span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><br /> In her early life, timid and shy,<br /> she pre-empted risks by keeping<br /> her horizons low and her head<br /> bent down over her books.</span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0u4fo1DsHKPV9MJq7irVN6TqbF2nGTTqY9czBcZoNgVMP75p4WqVVvQ5AzowOq0vwYSuOH6AsMDkTFxwd8MOvoLbk8ede6Fd51AxNFhJlmiCZzggBOYqWFHWI0cdyYonzOU6cfvIF0o/s2048/Wendy+font+cover+FINAL+J+peg.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">,<img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0u4fo1DsHKPV9MJq7irVN6TqbF2nGTTqY9czBcZoNgVMP75p4WqVVvQ5AzowOq0vwYSuOH6AsMDkTFxwd8MOvoLbk8ede6Fd51AxNFhJlmiCZzggBOYqWFHWI0cdyYonzOU6cfvIF0o/s320/Wendy+font+cover+FINAL+J+peg.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><br /><i>‘</i>With Such Caution <i>is</i> <i>a perfect title choice. As a title poem it gets to the heart of the shy, timid, girl that haunts you still. She is alive in these pages, Wendy, we feel her caution, her apprehensions and fears’ AJ.<br /></i><br /></span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Then there was the decision about the cover – very important, as I know, to engage potential readers.</span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"> My collaborator in this part of the process was the talented designer Kate Hall of<i><a href="Kate Hall Design e: studio.katehalldesign@gmail.com w: https://www.katehalldesign.co.uk"> Kate Hall Design</a></i>, who worked her special magic on my concept of the book and developed exactly my dream cover. This image too - like the title - begins with a little shy girl who would always be a writer. Take a look. </span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><br />If you get hold of the book you will realise that this is not a conventional memoir. You will notice that the poems are not set out in here in autobiographical time. Rather they are inspired by my feelings about the pieces in the present time, as I have edited them and put them in order for this special collection. Perhaps you could say the ordering constitutes a glimpse of my state of mind in the present day while I have been working on this collection.</span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><br /><i> ‘I like so much that you haven’t chosen a linear path - I think when we reflect on our lives we do so in myriad images and scattered memories. I suppose I’m saying that your chosen form mimics the process of remembering…’ AJ.</i></span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;">Inevitably members of my family have roles to play in this collection, albeit seen through the veil of my selective memory and my idiosyncratic emotional perceptions. I have already posted on this blog one of the poems featuring my mother, Barbara. (Scroll down...And now the poem at the end is this pieces focuses on Billy, my father. I thought you might like it as is just one illustration much of what I have tried to say here. </span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>'... there is
a creative unity which is an important part of your authentic writer’s voice,
aligned as it is with your refusal to be confined or limited by genre or
received wisdom - something of course which is underscored in the collection in
poems such as </i>Outsiderness,<i> </i>With S</span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">uch Caution</span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">’and ‘</i><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">Different Worlds</span><i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif;">.' DM. </i></span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large; font-weight: normal;"> I very much hope you enjoy reading <i>With Such Caution</i> and perhaps reflect on your own lives, And I hope the writers among you will be inspired to survey their own notebooks for similar inspiration. </span></h3><h3 style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><span style="font-weight: normal;">I am pleased to day that </span><i style="font-weight: normal;">With Such Caution</i> <span style="font-weight: normal;">is available now in paperback and ln Kindle on Amazon</span><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Such-Caution-Glimpsed-Short-Pieces/dp/B08XH2JL8D/" rel="nofollow" style="font-weight: normal;" target="_blank"> HERE</a></span></h3><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXFCjWRsmobJ0Hn7uH4OX5vpJeWk2OPLQuQWJRbquom1EZbnn9oxlh9sM4V8z7mIUiHMP-gD9y6XFLsAlUlOWaFQ1xs0qqFn8nuLvNF6UKtEbBUuiVKqA7NsQCz6IdVIlh82-L47RMg4/s2048/Wendy+reverse+FINAL+Jpeg.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTXFCjWRsmobJ0Hn7uH4OX5vpJeWk2OPLQuQWJRbquom1EZbnn9oxlh9sM4V8z7mIUiHMP-gD9y6XFLsAlUlOWaFQ1xs0qqFn8nuLvNF6UKtEbBUuiVKqA7NsQCz6IdVIlh82-L47RMg4/s320/Wendy+reverse+FINAL+Jpeg.jpg" /></span></a></div><p></p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;">WX</span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">Billy: A Daughter’s Tale<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span>We
walked along, your giant’s hand in mine, </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;"> long fingers poking inside
my hand-knitted sleeve.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">Remember
the nights she left the house for work?<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">You
sat and read the paper as I scaled your knee<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">settling,
birdlike, into that rustling space.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">Remember
how we cut out pictures<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">and
pasted them into the Panjandrum book? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">Remember
how you read us stories -<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">your
voice going up and down<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">like
the waves of the sea? <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">So
very sorry you don’t know my youngest –<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">like
you he’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>highly numerate - you<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">did
not see him standing tall for Tai Kwan Do<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">(white
clad and obliquely oriental) <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">or
cricket-ready, complete with pads <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">and helmet
and faceguard protection.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">It’s
a lifetime since I passed your dying age <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">of
thirty seven. And now I contemplate<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">how
very young you were<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>when<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">you
abandoned your life and mine, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">when
- to my nine-year self - you seemed eternal.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">It
has taken two generations<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">between
then and now<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for me <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: medium; line-height: 115%;">to
ventilate<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the retrospective pain<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">of
losing you too soon.</span><o:p style="font-size: 14pt;"></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"><br /></span></p>
<p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><p></p><div style="line-height: 200%; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 150%;"><o:p> Note : </o:p></span><i style="text-align: right;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 10pt;">My father died when I was nine and I see now</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 10pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>that our relationship was the template</span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 10pt; line-height: 200%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for my whole life.</span></i></div><p></p></blockquote><p>
<b></b></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-64064421272449500912021-01-01T17:37:00.000+00:002021-01-01T17:37:07.726+00:00<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Translucent
Butter-Muslin.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">It
was my mother’s birthday yesterday. The last day of the year. Perhaps that’s
why even as a child I always liked the New Year celebrations much better than those
at Christmas. My eventual explanation for this was that this was the influence
of the Celtic elements in my identity.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">Another
explanation could be that there were bad days in my childhood but even in the
worst of days New Year’s Eve seem to carry the silver lode of celebration.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">And
now I have shrugged off the bad days of my childhood and we are here into 2021.
Despite a universally tragic 2020, New Year’s Day in 2021 seems to me to be a
good day to press on with my own Work in Progress. My mother would say '<i>stop
fretting – keep working!'</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">I am
just now working my critical way through a selection of poems which – with the
help of my friend Donna Maynard – I have harvested from my notebooks going back 50
years. Originally I never labour labelled these short line pieces as poems. It
always seemed too pretentious by far. It comes from a habit of noting down in
words how I see things what is happening – like bullets of experience in short
lines.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
retrospect it so happened that through the years this collection of short line
pieces took a form that other people – with more literary, poetic nous than me –
have viewed them as “poems. The collection will be called <i>With Such Cautio</i>n - <i>A Life Glimpsed in Short Lines.</i><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">In
this recently assembled collection there are more than 60 of pieces going
back to 1962. And during the confinement of Lockdown I have been working my way
through them – polishing here, clarifying there. This has been something of a
voyage of discovery.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"> I have discovered that the short-line pieces
range across all aspects of my life – both imagined and – in the world sense –
real. They include inner thoughts and fantasies, and outer experiences. On
reflection I suppose many might be seen as autobiographical, but, like a good
deal of any writer’s output, much of it just might be entirely invented. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10pt; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;">My
mother – always called “Mam” – crops up with a certain compelling frequency in this sollection.=. My
brothers and sisters are there – some would say projections and retrospections perhaps growing from my storytellers mind. “Mam” crops up several times as I certainly sense that I can remember
her right back to the day I was born. And then, even after she died too early, the
writing here shows how much she featured in my life, in my dreams.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="CSP-ChapterTitle" style="line-height: 200%;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">I
realise now that I spent my childhood very hungry for her approval. I was still hungry when, as a grown up,
working and with children of my own, I gave her my first published novel<i>
Lizza </i>to read in publisher’s proof. She
told me she sat through the night reading it to the very end. i was relieved
when she approved and informed me that I’d got <i>most things</i> – the novel
was set during the 1926 strike –<i> right! </i> Thank you Mam!<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="left" class="CSP-ChapterTitle" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">My poem here below </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Translucent Butter-Muslin </i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">reflects on a dream I had of her
many years – and 16 books – later. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Sadly,
I lost Mam before she had a chance to read all the other novels which succeeded </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><i style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Lizza.</i></p>
<p align="left" class="CSP-ChapterTitle" style="line-height: 200%;"><i><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">My
mother – her name was Barbara - </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">was
always a great reader and I can feel at her at my shoulder now as I wish all
the beloved readers and writers out there are very creative and satisfying year
in 2021.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 200%;"><br /></span></p>
<h2 style="line-height: 150%; text-align: left;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Freestyle Script"; line-height: 150%; text-transform: none;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Here for you is a poem: </span></span></b></h2><div><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Freestyle Script"; line-height: 150%; text-transform: none;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></b></div>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 115%; margin-bottom: 10.0pt;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-family: "Freestyle Script"; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Freestyle Script";">Translucent
Butter-Muslin </span></b></span><span class="MsoFootnoteReference" style="font-size: large;"><b><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Freestyle Script";"> </span></b></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />
I wake up trembling - time ringing, vibrating, <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">calling
the angelus. In my dream<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I
see you standing there, all in yellow, <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">arms
raised - backlit in translucent butter muslin – <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">a
vision pulsing before me <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">manufactured
by <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>stars twinkling <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in
the sky at night,<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Now
I see you standing smiling.(My father <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">stoops
over you, his arm slung</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
around your shoulder). And I see you<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">standing
at my school-gate wearing<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">in
a fluffy white coat, red hair blazing.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Then
I see you in a blue crêpe party dress <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">toggled
at the neck in amber.<br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]--><br style="mso-special-character: line-break;" />
<!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I
see you smiling at my brother’s wedding,<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">wearing
a blue hat, its brim upturned.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Best
of all - I see you standing up straight<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">-
blue uniformed and silver-buckle-belted.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">
But here and now I see you standing here <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">at
the top of my stairs <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>in translucent<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>butter-muslin – <o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;">arms
raised towards me.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBv2JnL_V4zpHcnKLq2Ie-HA4OUUkDvTIE0Q6FSviRZMebT3m7Qq8O8eI7ORkuQMI8yBQNhirgzDxsg_Oclr6_ogdPYGFNQE_tcaXrZOl9dfXg1ZpSIgDm4DZA-IOvGdsJ4tEJFWCsCrk/s1542/img007+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1542" data-original-width="990" height="505" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBv2JnL_V4zpHcnKLq2Ie-HA4OUUkDvTIE0Q6FSviRZMebT3m7Qq8O8eI7ORkuQMI8yBQNhirgzDxsg_Oclr6_ogdPYGFNQE_tcaXrZOl9dfXg1ZpSIgDm4DZA-IOvGdsJ4tEJFWCsCrk/w323-h505/img007+%25282%2529.jpg" width="323" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me thinking a lot on her knee.</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 150%;"><o:p><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-86325730290812270222020-11-13T15:16:00.001+00:002020-11-13T15:27:22.357+00:00Reading on Planet Lockdown - Discovering Quebec with Louise Penny,<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pS-_Pg3tN9D990J47Oew7awwMNYj-PqOvH2ktKUfARc_uUU4k9V2hwlSRkoQFtx0WXTlY3qs7nL3Kp-gw2YOUwEgHHIYq62Zz0BAvho17opSZrvRE4ZCikDsfR9A5Mbn5BTCMvdFOO0/s210/eiffel-tower-95151.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="210" data-original-width="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6pS-_Pg3tN9D990J47Oew7awwMNYj-PqOvH2ktKUfARc_uUU4k9V2hwlSRkoQFtx0WXTlY3qs7nL3Kp-gw2YOUwEgHHIYq62Zz0BAvho17opSZrvRE4ZCikDsfR9A5Mbn5BTCMvdFOO0/s0/eiffel-tower-95151.jpg" /></a></div><h3 style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></h3><h3 style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Shielding
in lockdown has been like landing on a different planet. For me one consequence
of exploring this new Planet Lockdown is the deepening and strengthening my
lifelong habit (obsession with?) of reading and writing – all of which started
when I was about seven. Reading has always been my escape from a dark and difficult
world, furnishing me with an almost magical doorway into a sensate, fulfilling
life. And now in recent months on Planet Lockdown this deep reading habit has
allowed me to escape the sense of dark confinement and deprivation and find a (possibly
eccentric) way of living to the full. </span></h3><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And
now I have found many different pathways on this planet. One of my reading
pathways has involved revisiting lifelong favourites. Then I got to
thinking that I have possibly outgrown some old favourites; perhaps I even overrated
these works in those early readings. But sometimes it happens that I find new
layers of meaning in such older works which tell me something about the life we
have to live now. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Another
pathway here on the planet has been finding new works. I have relished a great pleasure
in discovering new writers and stories which inspire me to explore new rivers
and climb new mountains – to open up my confined world. So in these lockdown
days new territories are opening up for me: territories which would not have opened up for
me, which I would not have foreseen, without this unique reading retreat which
is Planet Lockdown <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Some
of the best of these has influenced me not just as a reader but more crucially
as a writer. One of these - a recent
discovery - has been the work of the Canadian writer Louise Penny. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
can’t remember just how I first discovered this writer. However, having read
one book, I found myself looking for others and, using an old habit – again
started in childhood – of discovering a writer by reading a series of their
novels. In this way I can cultivate and incorporate into my reading/writing map
this writer’s approach to the storytelling task, to their worldview, to their
creation of characters; I could learn from them their deep apprehension of
climate and the natural world. I recognised these elements which combine
uniquely in each writer and constitute what we call their style.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
feel first developed this series approach to reading generations ago, when I
was doing my French and German A-levels. To back up my curriculum studies I hunted
down the novels by Honoré de Balzac, the short stories of Guy de Maupassant and
Heinrich Boll, and the plays of Goethe. (We <i>did</i>
read whole books in those days in the original language. I believe things are
different nowadays.)<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Back
to reading on Planet Lockdown – Louise Penny’s novels which might be loosely
labelled murder mystery stories, showcase her high literary skills and her clever storytelling
skills. The novels are bedded in the
historical and cultural identity of French Canada. The history of the British
colonisation of this original French province lies there in layers, underneath
the contemporary stories. Penny’s storytelling is complex and sometimes surprising
- threaded through with philosophical insight and an acute sense of the ‘other’.
I learnt a lot in reading these novels – isn’t there a certain pleasure in
absorbing information in the context of a story?<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The
settings for Penny’s novels is French-speaking urban and rural Québec; the central
characters are urban and rural Québécois with a sprinkling of English speakers
– called <i>Anglos</i> here - historically top
dogs in the province but now at one level down: first nation Canadians such as
the Cree nation also play a small part here.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">As
well as relishing the stories, in reading this succession of Penny’s novels I
have learnt a great deal about the unique history of this part of the North
American continent. And I have developed further my knowledge of the human
dilemma – the politics of family, the forming and destruction of friendships,
the nature of betrayal, the intertwining of love and hate. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
have been thinking that this is part of what we explore through reading –
finding new pathways, new tracks, and ways to interpret what is essentially a
very foreign environment to an English reader. This is so even if - like me – you
flatter yourself that have a good sense of the world and its history.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Penny’s
novels explore a series of widely ranging mysteries held together by the leading
character, a Québécois policeman, Chief Inspector Armand Ganache, of the Sûreté
de Quebec, his intellectual wife Reine Marie by his side. These two are at the
centre of an extraordinary caucus of characters who live in a tiny village deep
in the forests and mountains of rural Québec, some miles away from Montréal. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">One
great attraction for me of these novels is the secondary and tertiary
characters who reappear in further novels.
This includes a complicated ancient poet called Ruth whose constant
companion is a duck called Rosa. Another attraction is the way the writer
renders for us the extremities of the distinctive seasons and the landscape of
this part of Canada to the degree that, as well as forming a background for the
narrative, they become part of the characterisation of the whole novel.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I
have to say that these are no ordinary mystery novels. Apart from the complex
and attractive character of Ganache himself, the stories of are bedded into a
whole range of world issues played out against the linked histories of France
and Québec. These involve murder, drug addiction, the joys, the warmth and this
occasional toxic nature of family. We get to know the worlds of painting and fine
art, the danger of enclosed monastic life, the dark nature of political and
police corruption, And in each novel the exploration of good and evil and the
dark and the light of characters and cultures is intelligent and satisfying. This
writer assumes her readers are intelligent and not afraid of ideas.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Being
a great Francophile the setting of one of my favourite novels in this series moves
away from Québec and is set in Paris, where the historical French cultural identity
of the Québécois is embedded in the narrative and is a key to the mystery at
its core. As readers we get to walk the streets of Paris with Armand Ganache
and his clever wife Reine Marie. I enjoy the way the Rodin Museum and the tale of the Burghers of Calais plays its part in the narrative.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">The detective Armand
Ganache is a deceptively clever man. He is a thinker: a quiet, thoughtful soul who wields authority and leadership like a magician's wand. We spend a lot of time inside his mind.
In this Paris novel as in the others, he uses literary and philosophical analogies with a free hand, always adding depth and significance to the story,<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">One
– it seems to me – very attractive and original aspect of all the novels is the
attention they pay to the French influence on the daily life and of the food of
the Quebec province. This is described described with relish and serves to reflect the intimacy of the
relationships and the authenticity of the stories as they unfold. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Looking
at all this, I am now thinking that it might make the novels sound fact-heavy
and complicated. But not so! The passion informing the research and the
literary skills of this writer makes each novel a compelling - even an easy - read.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> And there are surprises. Each novel is different to the others – these are not
patently similar mystery stories. They are handcrafted novels which - apart
from anything else - enhance our understanding of the human condition and
cultural identity. They explore the dark and the light, the good and the evil embedded
in the human drama. The dark side of some individuals and their motivation
towards evil is deeply and sometimes shockingly present but not - as in some mystery
novels – wanton and unjustified. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">So
I suppose have to admit that the confinement and the long days of lockdown have
been transformed into a gift - for me, the time and the space
and time to learn - in this case about
Québec, and to become acquainted with the very special Armand Gamache in discovering the novels of Louise Penny.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Happy
reading!<o:p></o:p></span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Here Are Some
of The Novels:<o:p></o:p></span></b></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span style="background: white; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Still Life<br />
A Fatal Grace / Dead Cold<br />
The Cruellest Month<br />
A Rule Against Murder <br />
The Brutal Telling<br />
Bury Your Dead<br />
A Trick Of The Light</span><span style="background: white; font-family: "Lucida Handwriting"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />
The Beautiful Mystery<br />
How The Light Gets In<br />
<span class="boldbooktitles">The Long Way Home</span><br />
<span class="boldbooktitles">The Nature Of The Beast</span><br />
A Great Reckoning<br />
Glass Houses<br />
Kingdom Of The Blind<br />
A Better Man<br />
All The Devils Are Here</span><span style="font-family: "Lucida Handwriting"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></p><p>
</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 150%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0Uqr4QLxN8rcWCQSRvbcVfAtwy0rZv56A6Wljm_u0CndsT1fF0PryTXaOHo5JeUtqD5duh8Y_Yrk5f_kB9YWs4tGsSm8sclUsOQhVCKFSgBH4iQSL1MCKumgB_pUV1TAgzVuYtiuJPQ/s800/thumbnail_abroad-great-reckon-covers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr0Uqr4QLxN8rcWCQSRvbcVfAtwy0rZv56A6Wljm_u0CndsT1fF0PryTXaOHo5JeUtqD5duh8Y_Yrk5f_kB9YWs4tGsSm8sclUsOQhVCKFSgBH4iQSL1MCKumgB_pUV1TAgzVuYtiuJPQ/s320/thumbnail_abroad-great-reckon-covers.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-50803826735712193882020-10-17T10:59:00.008+01:002020-12-07T17:01:52.762+00:00From My Lockdown Notebook: Outsiderness,<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 16pt; mso-bidi-font-family: Arial; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">I often say to writers that the only
place for a writer is on the outside of everything. These days more than ever
we are on the outside – of any aspiration to normal life. So it is no wonder
that the following has emerged from a starting point in my notebook.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 16pt; text-align: left;">In this prolonged period of isolation
my notebook is my best friend. In it I have scrawled impressions, thoughts, and
feelings which turn up in an almost random fashion. Occasionally I turn the
pages, pick up an idea and work on it in a more focused fashion. Working and moulding
this into something more distinct and possibly distinctive is a writer’s active
pleasure.</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="color: #0f243e; font-size: 14pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;"><br /></span></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><b><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;"> </span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><b><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Outsiderness<o:p></o:p></span></b></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Being the third child of four<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">I was bred to be an outsider. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Being the new child from a far town<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">I was labelled outsider.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Talking with the wrong tone <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">I was seen as a verbal outsider.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Being the cleverest child in class<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">made me an outsider.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Working alongside men<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">I was the female outsider.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Telling stories made me<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">a mendacious outsider.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Living with a man who doesn’t see<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">I have become an invisible outsider. – <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">Learning to make myself comfortable<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">In this ultimate containment.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128; padding: 0cm;">Now,
living through to old age<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128;">I am an intimate outsider, even<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128; padding: 0cm;">the
ultimate outsider,</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128; padding: 0cm;"><span style="text-align: center;">to others on the planet..</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128; padding: 0cm;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128; padding: 0cm;"><span style="text-align: center;">So anyway now I relish </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; color: #0f243e; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-GB; mso-themecolor: text2; mso-themeshade: 128; padding: 0cm;"><span style="text-align: center;">my role as </span></span><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #0f243e; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; padding: 0cm;"><span style="text-align: center;">outsider </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 8.0pt; margin-left: 49.65pt; margin-right: 54.4pt; margin-top: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: #0f243e; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 107%; padding: 0cm;"><span style="text-align: center;">at </span></span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;">the centre of </span><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14pt; text-align: center;">my own world.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 54.4pt 8pt 49.65pt; text-align: center;"><span style="color: #0f243e; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"> </span></span><span style="font-size: 18.6667px;"> </span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">*****.</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCLGBZhbCdakbfz9abNmytRWo2fdwE2d46eycf9Nc49koinDpsE-6ZsaWWJ7txVKok3vYkmOUPQJzYjMSgXtVBlQruy2PPAT3r_BhACZtfc3QRAvXcDtuNzFJJnYea0PR2lFTXIZL8-Y/s5325/DSC_0885.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="5325" data-original-width="3004" height="294" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitCLGBZhbCdakbfz9abNmytRWo2fdwE2d46eycf9Nc49koinDpsE-6ZsaWWJ7txVKok3vYkmOUPQJzYjMSgXtVBlQruy2PPAT3r_BhACZtfc3QRAvXcDtuNzFJJnYea0PR2lFTXIZL8-Y/w166-h294/DSC_0885.JPG" width="166" /></a></div><br /><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"><br /></span><p></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;">Also see my novel </span><a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01KK0WF84/ref=dp-kindle-redirect?_encoding=UTF8&btkr=1" target="_blank"><span face="Arial, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">The Bad Child</span></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="font-size: 14pt;"> </span></a></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;">which emerged from these same feelings of Outsiderness some years ago.</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 14pt;"> I find I am nothing if not consistent.</span></p><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; text-align: center;"><span face=""Arial","sans-serif"" style="font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span></p>
<p style="line-height: normal; text-align: center;"><span face=""Amazon Ember", Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%; text-align: center;">'As her life begins
to unravel Dee tells us her own story - how she begins to rescue herself </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 18.6667px;"> </span><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #333333; font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">from
her own life. But she’s not alone on her journey. Travelling with her is a
woman who throws pots and a dog called Rufus. Then there are Dee's drawing
books and the characters she's met in the stories she has read</span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; color: #333333; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 150%;">…</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #333333; text-align: start;">…'</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-67442703742775198692020-10-04T18:16:00.000+01:002020-10-04T18:35:44.464+01:00Reading for Writers During Lockdown: The Irish Voice. Niall Williams<p style="text-align: center;"> </p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px; text-align: left;"><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> R<span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">eading for Writers During Lockdown:<br /></span></span></h2><h2 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"> The Irish Voice: Niall Williams </span></span></h2></blockquote><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9l5__bUn9hNeun4ppeS_YeuoZ09Psq3PXprcpCfs669tYHRy-dW4E4zuTUQxoEUYNQWcEHHW1i-bhjXGwK1ToIO06aeAX2VY6CSw-ni6RytnwZGnaUYs7ylL0JBY5BhCoEi7BZXavjwY/s800/scan006-cropped-800x800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" height="97" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9l5__bUn9hNeun4ppeS_YeuoZ09Psq3PXprcpCfs669tYHRy-dW4E4zuTUQxoEUYNQWcEHHW1i-bhjXGwK1ToIO06aeAX2VY6CSw-ni6RytnwZGnaUYs7ylL0JBY5BhCoEi7BZXavjwY/w97-h97/scan006-cropped-800x800.jpg" width="97" /></a></div><br /><p> </p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">“Don’t you think there’s something wonderful about the Irish voice?”</span><br /><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%;">So said the actress <i>Ann
Peacock</i> who herself has narrated – beautifully – some of my novels in
audio. She is an expert on the voice, having narrated many hundreds of novels. See
her here: </span><span style="line-height: 115%;"><a href="https://www.annedover.co.uk/">https://www.annedover.co.uk/</a> and <a href="https://www.annedover.co.uk/anne-dover/">https://www.annedover.co.uk/anne-dover/</a></span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; padding: 0cm;">I am ntrigued by Anne’s comment about how good the Irish voice is to the English ear. I
have long thought this. The power of the Irish voice emerges clearly in
recordings on BBC Sounds for instance, and the voices of narrators of novels
delivered on Audible. But more importantly it emerges very clearly through the
words written on the page, where the vocabulary, syntax and rented landscape sing
out to the ear in a very particular way.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; padding: 0cm;">These thoughts crystallised for me when I read
on Audio a novel by writer</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQAgGr1vFfYOOIx_ZnuqCHoGrV9noRREVGVpfqML8z71oOTcH7y-M4Q6hjGBY1eGwxrvWOrrDvPqluriCAXM4K6BgrEHYnFBk4vfi2f5B_FXn-B7i6HWy9s8ZxnkJ0gmSLK8nGG9Ax3Ok/s245/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="245" data-original-width="205" height="147" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQAgGr1vFfYOOIx_ZnuqCHoGrV9noRREVGVpfqML8z71oOTcH7y-M4Q6hjGBY1eGwxrvWOrrDvPqluriCAXM4K6BgrEHYnFBk4vfi2f5B_FXn-B7i6HWy9s8ZxnkJ0gmSLK8nGG9Ax3Ok/w123-h147/images.jpg" width="123" /></a></div> Niall Williams <a href="http://www.niallwilliams.com/">http://www.niallwilliams.com/</a> <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(a visionary writer – a new find new find for
me!) His novel <i>This Is Happiness</i>, is set in a village in West Cork,
and is narrated narrated by Irish actor Dermot Crowley. Crowley’s voice is
perfect for Williams’ prose. Brilliant.<p></p>
<blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDP0w_N2TWW2xlIqfJLBySw5HtZiA1igkwgzZQP_D2omvmuE-Ob1bxpNJIJMQuSAGkVLmlCCn0YjN87euZaeTpThEhqf6j-n7Nf71zvm9AMgznmWNUqqSpQm137l-wrR0X2ar_K45zIdw/s646/9781526609335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="background-color: white; clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="646" data-original-width="420" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDP0w_N2TWW2xlIqfJLBySw5HtZiA1igkwgzZQP_D2omvmuE-Ob1bxpNJIJMQuSAGkVLmlCCn0YjN87euZaeTpThEhqf6j-n7Nf71zvm9AMgznmWNUqqSpQm137l-wrR0X2ar_K45zIdw/s320/9781526609335.jpg" /></a><i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; padding: 0cm;">This Is Happiness</span></i><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; padding: 0cm;"> explores the human <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">minutiae</i>
of daily living in a village West Cork, seen through the fresh eyes of a boy
“Noe” visiting his grandparents –“Ganga” and “Dodie”- from the city, in his
school holidays. </span></p></blockquote><p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;">It
seems to me that all life is here on these pages: the layers of human experience
in a village with a traditional, stoical, hard way of living, stubbornly
adhered to by people confident of their own identity and rightness in their
world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the story this taken-for-granted
reality is invaded by the arrival of “the electricity”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Among many rich characterisations, the image
of the awful man in charge of this electrifying process is a masterly piece of
writing. But as well as this each element of the novel resonates through the
literary talent of this Irish writer. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;">Unsentimental
in tone - although the novel treats great themes, like identity, community,
hierarchy, love and the sense of a unique place - it is a very easy read. This,
I feel, is because the story is voiced through the young boy’s perception of
this almost vanished world. A powerful thread running through the story is the
saga of Noe’s relationship with Christy – a wonderful rendering of a relationship
between a boy and man - interweaving Noe’s story with Christy’s lifelong doomed
love affair with woman, now elderly in the village. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;">The
authorial voice of the storyteller – Noe in old age - occasionally brings us
back to the present, reminding us of how much the world has changed since Noe
was a boy.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;">Despite
its inherent complexity <i>This Is Happiness is also </i>an easy read because
its embedded lyricism embraces the ancient custom of stories embedded in other
stories which reaches back to the pre-literate tradition of oral storytelling.
This novel springs straight off the page into my ear through the medium of
Dermot Crowley’s narration. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Thinking
on about the novel and Anne Peacock’s observation about the Irish voice made me
think further about the way that the Irish voice has dominated the nature of
so-called English Literature.<span style="border: none windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-alt: none windowtext 0cm; padding: 0cm;"> It also made me think
further about the 19<sup>th</sup> century migration Wales Scotland and - of
course – Ireland, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>into the newly flourishing
coalmining area of south-west Durham – another tapestry of small villages with
similar storytelling customs. My own family was part of this migration separate
branches coming from Wales and Scotland. I also had one idiosyncratic grandma
who, I think, came from Ireland. She worked as a domestic in a lunatic asylum
and once told me of the courtship with my grandfather who was an attendant, ‘He
chased me round the table till I caught him.’<o:p></o:p></span></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;">Such
a background is of course very inspirational for any writer and in my case can
be can be traced in several of my novels. One of the stories actually begins
with my Welsh heroine coming North on a train from Bagillt in Wales to
Spennymoor in County Durham. In the story she is travelling under the seat
because her father could only afford tickets for four of the children and she
was the fifth and the smallest. That introduction to the novel is a true
glimpse of my own grandmother’s journey at the turn of the last century when
her own language was Welsh. This is one of the many stories I heard <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>from my mother and her sisters whose family
history was a lapidary ediface of stories true and not so true that was a
crucial part of their identity<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;">My
own novel is certainly not a biography but inevitably I have in my head in my
heart the stories within the stories as with Niall Williams. They are part of
my South Durham literary heritage <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and
the foundation of my inspiration whether the stories are set in South Durham or
not.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;">Anne
Peacock, who, I found, comes from this same region, told me, ‘</span><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">In my family’s case it was migrating from the Welsh coal
mining industry to the Durham one I have to thank, for my lifelong love affair
with music and poetry and language in its many forms.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p style="background: white; line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;"><span style="background: white; color: #201f1e; font-family: "Segoe UI", sans-serif;">I</span><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; padding: 0cm;"> have often tried to pin down the attraction to me of soft
underlying rhythms and syntax of the South Durham way of speaking and I think this
is where it lies - in the life stories and songs brought into my region by
families from villages in Wales and Scotland and Ireland, whose life
experiences chime together into a particular kind of music. This perhaps is why
the literature coming out of Ireland and surfacing in the English literary canon
holds particular appeal for people like myself and Anne Peacock.</span><span style="color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif;">Spurred on by these thoughts about Anne Peacock,
Niall Williams and the Irish voice, I decided to check my shelves and see just how
much Irish writing has been so bedded down in my writer’s consciousness to the
point of actually buying the books. I recognise that in many cases the the works
of these writers have been colonised and incorporated into the so called English
Canon, but the Irish identity is clearly there in the work of these artists.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; padding: 0cm;">These days I am seen as a pretty ancient reader
and write so there are very many books on my shelves. And, sharpened by my
thoughts about Niall Williams and Anne Peacock I notice so many books which are
the work of <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Irish writers. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="border: 1pt none windowtext; color: black; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 115%; padding: 0cm;">I made a list. And even I was surprised to
find just how many there are. Here you go. Happy reading!<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZpwQSIDm6fmA3qM5vlTCLFnTsDrWWo68_aNxHyCrLfWYVR1gcqS_LxSHE3cNcpcXJJT7gF7JEhRcs7I6wf2faByyPbsLjH9s7NlkIwsN3THHZ3WTimEpwTI8dhn99_y2ZrPnz3p0xCI/s611/d315_a_main.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="355" data-original-width="611" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBZpwQSIDm6fmA3qM5vlTCLFnTsDrWWo68_aNxHyCrLfWYVR1gcqS_LxSHE3cNcpcXJJT7gF7JEhRcs7I6wf2faByyPbsLjH9s7NlkIwsN3THHZ3WTimEpwTI8dhn99_y2ZrPnz3p0xCI/s320/d315_a_main.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">West Cork<br /></td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Banville" title="John Banville"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">John Banville</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (born 1945)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sebastian_Barry" title="Sebastian Barry"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Sebastian Barry</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (born 1955)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_Beckett" title="Samuel Beckett"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Samuel Beckett</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (1906–1989)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brendan_Behan" title="Brendan Behan"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Brendan Behan</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (1923–1964)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maeve_Binchy" title="Maeve Binchy"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Maeve Binchy</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (1940–2012)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dermot_Bolger" title="Dermot Bolger"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Dermot Bolger</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (born 1959)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Boyne" title="John Boyne"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">John Boyne</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (born 1971) / </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Bowen" title="Elizabeth Bowen"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Elizabeth Bowen</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (1899–1973)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Delaney" title="Frank Delaney"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Frank Delaney</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (born 1942)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roddy_Doyle" title="Roddy Doyle"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Roddy Doyle</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (born 1958)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Enright" title="Anne Enright"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Ann Enright</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (born 1962)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Marie_Forrest" title="Anne Marie Forrest"></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oliver_Goldsmith" title="Oliver Goldsmith"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Oliver Goldsmith</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (1728–1774)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jennifer_Johnston" title="Jennifer Johnston"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Jennifer Johnston</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (born 1930)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Jordan" title="Neil Jordan"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Neil Jordan</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (born 1950)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Joyce" title="James Joyce"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">James Joyce</span></a></span><span style="color: #202122; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"> (1882–1941)/ </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 150%;"><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_Delaney" title="Frank Delaney"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Frank Delaney</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1942)/
</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roddy_Doyle" title="Roddy Doyle"><span style="color: #0b0080;">Roddy Doyle</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1958)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maria_Edgeworth" title="Maria Edgeworth"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Maria Edgeworth</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1767–1849)/</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anne_Enright" title="Anne Enright"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;"> Ann Enright</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1962)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oliver_Goldsmith" title="Oliver Goldsmith"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Oliver Goldsmith</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1728–1774)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jennifer_Johnston" title="Jennifer Johnston"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Jennifer
Johnston</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1930)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Jordan" title="Neil Jordan"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Neil Jordan</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1950)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Joyce" title="James Joyce"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">James Joyce</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1882–1941)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_B._Keane" title="John B. Keane"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">John B. Keane</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1928–2002)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Molly_Keane" title="Molly Keane"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Molly Keane</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1904–1996, writing as </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/M.J._Farrell" title="M.J. Farrell"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">M.J. Farrell</span></a><span style="color: #202122;">)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marian_Keyes" title="Marian Keyes"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Marian Keyes</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1963)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C._S._Lewis" title="C. S. Lewis"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">C. S. Lewis</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1899–1963)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_McCourt" title="Frank McCourt"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Frank McCourt</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1930–2009)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_McGahern" title="John McGahern"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">John McGahern</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1934–2006)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iris_Murdoch" title="Iris Murdoch"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Iris Murdoch</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1919–1999)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edna_O%27Brien" title="Edna O'Brien"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Edna O'Brien</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born c. 1932)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joseph_O%27Connor" title="Joseph O'Connor"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Joseph O'Connor</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1963)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_O%27Nolan" title="Brian O'Nolan"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Brian O'Nolan</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1912–1966, writing as </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flann_O%27Brien" title="Flann O'Brien"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Flann O'Brien</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> and </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Myles_na_gCopaleen" title="Myles na gCopaleen"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Myles na gCopaleen</span></a><span style="color: #202122;">)/
</span><span class="mw-headline"> </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somerville_and_Ross" title="Somerville and Ross"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Somerville and Ross</span></a><span style="color: #202122;">:
(</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edith_Somerville" title="Edith Somerville"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Edith Somerville</span></a><span style="color: #202122;">,
1858–1949, and </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Violet_Florence_Martin" title="Violet Florence Martin"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Violet Florence Martin</span></a><span style="color: #202122;">,
1862–1915)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bram_Stoker" title="Bram Stoker"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Bram Stoker</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1847–1912)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jonathan_Swift" title="Jonathan Swift"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Jonathan Swift</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1667–1745)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colm_T%C3%B3ib%C3%ADn" title="Colm Tóibín"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Colm Tóibín</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1955)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Trevor" title="William Trevor"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">William Trevor</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1928)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oscar_Wilde" title="Oscar Wilde"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Oscar Wilde</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1854–1900)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Niall_Williams" title="Niall Williams"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Niall Williams</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1958)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_Beckett" title="Samuel Beckett"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Samuel Beckett</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1906–1989)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brendan_Behan" title="Brendan Behan"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Brendan Behan</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1923–1964)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cecil_Day-Lewis" title="Cecil Day-Lewis"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Cecil Day-Lewis</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1904–1972)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Seamus_Heaney" title="Seamus Heaney"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Seamus Heaney</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1939–2013)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Joyce" title="James Joyce"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">James Joyce</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1882–1941)/
</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Kavanagh" title="Patrick Kavanagh"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Patrick Kavanagh</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1904–1967)/
</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/C._S._Lewis" title="C. S. Lewis"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">C. S. Lewis</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1899–1963)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Michael_Longley" title="Michael Longley"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Michael Longley</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1939)/
</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Muldoon" title="Paul Muldoon"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Paul Muldoon</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born
1951)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tom_Paulin" title="Tom Paulin"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Tom Paulin</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1949)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jonathan_Swift" title="Jonathan Swift"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Jonathan Swift</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1667–1745)/
</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oscar_Wilde" title="Oscar Wilde"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Oscar Wilde</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1845–1900)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/W._B._Yeats" title="W. B. Yeats"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">W. B. Yeats</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1865–1939)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_Beckett" title="Samuel Beckett"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Samuel Beckett</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1906–1989)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elizabeth_Bowen" title="Elizabeth Bowen"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Elizabeth Bowen</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1899–1973)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clare_Boylan" title="Clare Boylan"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Clare Boylan</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1948–2006)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Joyce_Cary" title="Joyce Cary"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Joyce Cary</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1888–1957)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_Friel" title="Brian Friel"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Brian Friel</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1929)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Neil_Jordan" title="Neil Jordan"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Neil Jordan</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1950)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Joyce" title="James Joyce"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">James Joyce</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1882–1941)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Macken" title="Walter Macken"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Walter Macken</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1915–1967)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bernard_MacLaverty" title="Bernard MacLaverty"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Bernard MacLaverty</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born
1942)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_McGahern" title="John McGahern"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">John McGahern</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1934–2006)/
</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edna_O%27Brien" title="Edna O'Brien"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Edna O'Brien</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born
1932)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frank_O%27Connor" title="Frank O'Connor"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Frank O'Connor</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1903–1966)/
</span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colm_T%C3%B3ib%C3%ADn" title="Colm Tóibín"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Colm Tóibín</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1955)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Trevor" title="William Trevor"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">William Trevor</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (born 1928)/ </span><a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oscar_Wilde" title="Oscar Wilde"><span style="color: #0b0080; text-decoration-line: none;">Oscar Wilde</span></a><span style="color: #202122;"> (1854–1900).</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%;">As I
said happy reading!<o:p></o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-77136520610451927632020-09-25T18:01:00.006+01:002020-09-25T18:22:55.916+01:00Reading as a Writer. Lockdown inspiration. My comment on Roberto Bolaño's novel The Savage Detectives<p> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95iMkcOcbJQ2KvWS19OayAl_usujCi1xMkD414JFJ4wonM4T3RB1pGdsrI-R8tl-OAAReDnLrQAGUzTWWKzp8SnHrNrXBA0B95h9Lp0HzedYSdG6BdIdYuzBYZ4Q4petYeGBkA5EF7zM/s500/Bolano_Roberto600.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="500" height="237" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi95iMkcOcbJQ2KvWS19OayAl_usujCi1xMkD414JFJ4wonM4T3RB1pGdsrI-R8tl-OAAReDnLrQAGUzTWWKzp8SnHrNrXBA0B95h9Lp0HzedYSdG6BdIdYuzBYZ4Q4petYeGBkA5EF7zM/w237-h237/Bolano_Roberto600.jpg" width="237" /></a></p><h3 style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; font-size: 14pt; line-height: 115%; text-align: left;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Garamond, serif; line-height: 115%; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">Reading as a Writer - Lockdown Inspiration.</span></span></h3><p align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">The themes of identity and poetry, anarchy and politics
flow through the voices of the men and women in <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Savage Detectives</i> by Chilean writer Roberto Bolano. </span><span style="background: rgb(247, 250, 252); color: #2d3748; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">Throughout
the novel a sense irony, melancholy, madness, regret and paranoia all emerge through
the stories told by his characters We encounter unfamiliar labels: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘visceral realism’ <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘stridentist’ are</i> scattered around like raisins
in a rich pudding.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">And there are arresting phrases:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">‘We
talked about poetry, bullfighters, politicians.’ <o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">‘… up
to my ears in ghosts.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">‘You
have to love your life that’s all there is to it. Literature is crap.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">‘There’s
a hired killer after every publisher.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘The shadows that face all editors in the end.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>‘That was the end of everything.’<o:p></o:p></span></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">In Bolano's novel the widely varied characters speak directly to the reader, as though he
or she is sitting with a group of friends or acquaintances. The time switches
confidently backwards and forwards between the 1960s to the 1970s just as the
stories embedded in it swing across the world. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The novel sings hymns to the identity and
history of Mexico and the greater South American world. We hear of stories set
in Barcelona and Paris, in Vienna and Santiago. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">This is a novel about time passing. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s a novel about books and poetry. It’s
about travelling. It’s about dancing. It’s about political activism, about
drinking and about sex. At its centre is a passion for books. (One character
steals books from bookshops in a range of cities). The novel explores the
nature of writing and editing, and the philosophy of existence. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">We learn this through the mysterious illuminations of
character through the stories they tell and through the filter of wide range of
characters – both men and women - in a language that appears simple. But it is
only superficially simple expressed as it is in sophisticated and poetically
worked short sentences. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">Much of the philosophising is kind of barter between
individuals. A linking element is an old man who is his stories to some boys.
In the middle of the story he will address them directly from time to time in. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%;">In the very last story he, the storyteller, lists all the
characters in the stories, reminding one of the mythic storytellers of Greece. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<h4><span style="background: rgb(247, 250, 252); color: #2d3748; font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">A Note: I discovered the work of Bolaño
through an article by Francine Prose* whose enthusiasm made me seek out his work.
Boleño has also been described by the magisterial Susan Sontag as <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“the real thing and the rarest”.<o:p></o:p></i></span></h4>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin-left: 54pt; mso-add-space: auto;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">*Francine Prose: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">What To Read and What To Write.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p>
<p class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 54pt; mso-add-space: auto;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; font-size: 18pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p><br /><p></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-73028703934046070942020-08-18T12:43:00.002+01:002020-08-18T12:43:21.085+01:00My Big Sister Boudicca<p> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> </span></b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;">I
have been locked down and shielding nearly six months now. I have the evidence of
this extraordinary isolation in my rather untidy notebook.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;">These
conditions, for good or ill, lead to excess introspection – a detailed
examination of the present, future and - particularly if you are my age – the past.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 16.0pt; line-height: 115%;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;">So was
that one day my late sister took residence in my imagination. I loved her deeply
and for a long time she was my heroine. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;">So one day, notebook on knee, </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16pt;">shielding myself beneath my trees, I started
talk to her about the hard times of our growing up, which we faced in very
different ways.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 21.3333px;"><b><br /></b></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOx3RVbZ0ckT-aJpddx0QijYhbGdCwOA3N9p3HO_FLfmNIdNfNeeNKZAT8whGGbgKcQRTVPX7YScHzZmTBBJUd_Zjdq7W3yX7HOCMlj1NVrLfZhi-ZQW9L2A9c85Z99eqaaRBtBpLAvLo/s792/d5ylpy0-058c9599-9c5d-403e-9d09-b11276b4e577.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="612" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOx3RVbZ0ckT-aJpddx0QijYhbGdCwOA3N9p3HO_FLfmNIdNfNeeNKZAT8whGGbgKcQRTVPX7YScHzZmTBBJUd_Zjdq7W3yX7HOCMlj1NVrLfZhi-ZQW9L2A9c85Z99eqaaRBtBpLAvLo/s640/d5ylpy0-058c9599-9c5d-403e-9d09-b11276b4e577.jpg" /></a></span></b></div><p></p>
<span style="font-size: 21.3333px; font-weight: 700;"> <br /></span><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> Big Sister</span></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">Your hair is the colour of a bright
penny<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">much admired by <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>everyone.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mam
- also red-haired -says, <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">“Like Boudicca and the first Elizabeth. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">great women, both.” <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">At first you wear your hair in long
plaits,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">hooked up with green ribbons. One day <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">I sit on the stairs listening to them
row<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">when – school looming - she insists<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">on cutting off those long plaits;<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">My own hair – curly and tangled, mostly
unkempt - <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">means that eventually I’m christened Medusa<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">by cruel boys at school, where clever
does not count <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">and <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m never picked for teams and am ignored <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">by you in corridors. Unhappy times.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">And each day with my tangled hair <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">and slipshod ways I walk ten paces<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">behind you<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on our way to school.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">You do not turn. And I feel <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
am not here.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">But with your clever mind and bright
penny hair <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">you find your place among the racy girls<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">who admire your dancing style and love<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">those green shoes with four-inch heels –
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">that Mam has bought <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for you on credit .</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">At school your friends - too cool to
study –<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">hold you back, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>drag you down,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">and stop you showing your clever brain.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">(Even so, you still go on into the world
<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">and rise to the top. )<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">With Mam working at the factory <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">your cool friends visit <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>our tiny house,<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">roll back the rug, put Bill Haley <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">on our Dansette player – also bought on
credit – <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">and start to dance<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">But I am here, lying on the sofa, half
asleep - <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">these days playing truant seems to be my
only option.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">“Hey lass!” says the coolest girl. “Are
you off school again?”<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">But you just stand there before the
mirror, back-combing <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;">your bright penny hair into a bouffant
style.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 16pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3501702437500544780.post-3239289751591274622020-06-10T15:31:00.000+01:002020-06-10T15:37:41.414+01:00 Sirens - we face the uniformed wall <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> <span style="font-size: 14pt;">As I’ve mentioned
here before my Lockdown project is diving into fifty years of notebooks to see what pearls I come up with.
Anyway in a 2017 notebook I found this poem called</span><i style="font-size: 14pt;"> Sentinels</i><span style="font-size: 14pt;">. I have spent some time polishing it a bit, ready to
join in new collection to be called </span><i style="font-size: 14pt;">With
Such Caution.</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOS4yKWvBqy4fqo-9u45i0qKN2CPshr_ENLu8THP0akaAm099DolF3kGdupv0QA1LpJNIAoAURNVBOF2sf-67o3_2uizZGIHmBWyt9UUZbgV0mxLkiJMY2sJZtHwgpM5sjHElXxo_H34/s1600/keyyling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAOS4yKWvBqy4fqo-9u45i0qKN2CPshr_ENLu8THP0akaAm099DolF3kGdupv0QA1LpJNIAoAURNVBOF2sf-67o3_2uizZGIHmBWyt9UUZbgV0mxLkiJMY2sJZtHwgpM5sjHElXxo_H34/s200/keyyling.jpg" width="200" /></span></a><span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And this week I’ve also been looking with some
sympathy at the reportage around the <i>Black Lives Matter </i>demonstrations around
the country and around the world. </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">One account which touched me very deeply was
a demonstrator’s account of her experience <b> </b>of what is, apparently<b>, </b>called ‘<i>Kettling</i>’ (such a deceptively domestic term!) This is a really terrifying police strategy for controlling and containing demonstrators. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I have said here before of my novels, that writing fiction has allowed me to see through space and time. This happens more through accident than
design. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Looking at
this poem I see that I was morphing into the feelings I have now, years later, when I am seeing the images of the police in action controlling the <i>Black Lives Matter</i>
demonstrations.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: left; text-indent: 63.8pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Sirens</span></b></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left; text-indent: 63.8pt;"><b><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> </span></b></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">They stand there, the sirens -<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">short hair, muscular
demeanour -<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">bluff, pragmatic - family
men<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">here on the wrong
planet perhaps.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>‘I thought you were
illegal.’<o:p></o:p></i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">So much standing,
waiting - .<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">suiting <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>standing, bristling types.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My<i> Remegel </i>and
<i>Ventolyn</i><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">are briefly
challenged - <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">stupid me, still keeping them in my bag<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 63.8pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">We face the uniformed wall </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 63.8pt;">with its </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> bullet-proof
screens, which gives them <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">an illusion of security - </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">a sense of </span></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 63.8pt;">enclosure -</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> without prioritising our safety.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; text-indent: 63.8pt;"> <i> <b>Written 2017 Polished 2020</b></i></span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9prCR5_bB_YEl5qUZXVixL7WJlhrJ45PCyw8Yd48yxuG_RBrP_S23k2plZqSF5x_yQ116M2zQn_HYFfMnyMvn-Ygu2NklebP49oRhK3PvfkWfSgev9Z2ndjTXNl-Z9vCqUcdVHUseaMs/s1600/Notebooks+in+date+order+on+shelves.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="336" data-original-width="448" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9prCR5_bB_YEl5qUZXVixL7WJlhrJ45PCyw8Yd48yxuG_RBrP_S23k2plZqSF5x_yQ116M2zQn_HYFfMnyMvn-Ygu2NklebP49oRhK3PvfkWfSgev9Z2ndjTXNl-Z9vCqUcdVHUseaMs/s200/Notebooks+in+date+order+on+shelves.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lockdown Notebook Project</td></tr>
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Wendy Rhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03532817003318632539noreply@blogger.com0