Writing in an Age of Silence

by Sara Paretsky.

Sara Paretsky is best known as the writer of the V I Warshawski series of detective novels. I found this little treasure in my favourite book-o-holic den, The University Book Shop and couldn't resist.

I thought it was going to be the usual type of memoir by a writer, fascinating, inspirational, instructive, which it was, but it was also far more than that. It was a real eye-opener.

This book is very, very political, and it explores the personal and political climate that moulded and developed her signature character. Paretski was a young woman in the mid-sixties, in the midst of the civil rights movement which she saw from the periphery and from the perspective of the Polish families, as she was staying in a Polish neighbourhood. She talks about how this time materialised in her writing.

She also talks passionately about feminism and her involvement with the women's movement, in particular with women's rights to control their fertility. She voices her concern at how female characters are portrayed in fiction, and especially crime fiction, and how that informed the charcteristics she gave V I Warshawsi.

The chapter on the erosion of civil liberties in the United States post 9/11 was shocking.

I am so glad I picked this book out, as it opened my eyes and my thinking beyond the surface of many issues, and is an insight to the woman, and her character.

A cracker.

Had a cracker writing day today. Life has returned to some sense of rhythm with Hubby going back to work today and the sense that the Christmas and New Year period is truly over.

In many ways it was a relief, as I'd reached the point where I was itching to get back to my things, as opposed to looking after everyone else's things. So it was very gratifying to sit down today, glance over what I'd written an age ago, think, hey, that's not too bad, and then to add a solid thousand words to it.

I'm sure the process was helped by a few pots of tea in my new, shiny Christmas pressie tea pot (I made a blend of English breakfast and Lapsong Soshong, or how ever you spell it) It was also helped by my doing the one thing I said I'd never do in the school holidays - I plonked the kids in front of the TV for the afternoon. At least I can say it was quality viewing for them - DVD's from my Thunderbirds colection. God bless Super-Marionation.

The Winter Ghosts

By Kate Mosse.

Kate Mosse is best known as the writer of Labyrinth and Sepulchre, weighty books that cross over between historic fiction and modern day, with an element of the supernatural, and both of which I loved.

The Winter Ghosts is a much shorter and quicker read, and is also very satisfying.

Freddie Watson is traveling through an isolated and mountainous region of Southern France in the middle of winter in 1928. His car spins off the road and he has to trudge through the forests in the midst of a storm to find a village to summon help. But all is not as it seems in the village of Nulle, and there is something mysterious about Fabrissa, the young woman he meets and shares stories of his past with.

As always Kate Mosse's descriptions of both people, and France are evocative and enticing. Whenever I read her books, I have an urge to hop on a plane and go see it for myself. Pity about my lack of resources.

I'd initially given this book a three out of five, as although it was a lovely read, it wasn't as meaty or as in depth as Kate's other titles. But I have decided I need to upgrade this to a four out of five. The reason for this? A week after reading the book, and while distracted by reading other books, I find my mind drifting back to the story, pondering some of the atrocities committed in the name of war and religion, and thinking about the characters. The book is hanging around in my head, and considering how fast some things fall out of my head, any book that can hang on in there, in the presence of my next brilliant read, deserves the accolade.

Engleby

By Sebastian Faulks.

This is the first Sebastian Faulks novel I have read, and did so on the recommendation of a number of people who said I simply must read it. I am so pleased they insisted and I was so obedient.

This book is a first person account of the life of Mike Engleby. He's an odd sort of a man, clearly not that likable for some of the people he encounters but strangely endearing for the reader as we get more and more inside his head. We see of his hellish private school experiences, his attempts at fitting in at university, and his embarking on a career in journalism. We also see his thought processes as he attempts to make sense of the disappearance of a university friend. He has quirks aplenty and as some of his actions become more and more questionable I found myself liking him all the more.

Engleby is a deep, dark, funny and very stylish novel. It is thought provoking and a damn good read. I highly recommend it.

After reading this I shall have to go and dust off the languishing copy of Charlotte Gray which adorns my books shelf and has never been read...

Favourite books in 2009

A number of bloggers have been chatting about their favourite books read in 2009. I felt it was time I did the same, but then I had a look at my notebook and due to the schermozzle that 2009 turned out to be, I only read about 40 books, which I suppose isn't too bad, but I'd aimed for 50.

So this year, I am aiming for fifty again, and am off to a good start having finished reading Engleby, by Sebastian Faulks today - but I shall blog a review about that tomorrow.

As for this year's books? I read quite an eclectic mix, so I have put my favourites into loose categories, and in some I haven't been brave enough to make a call and have listed two books. Yes, I'm indecisive, but put it down to the quality of the books, not my lack of fortitude...

Best Crime fiction:

The Chalk Circle Man by Fred Vargas
The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson

Best General Fiction:

First Touch of Light by Ruth Pettis

Best Historic Fiction:

Sepulchre by Kate Mosse
Banquo's Son by Tania Roxborogh

Best Biography:

Ngaio Marsh: Her Life in Crime By Joanne Drayton

Best Memoir:

Chance is a Fine Thing by Philip Temple
The Madonna in the Suit Case by Huberta Hellendoorn


To help me along in my quest to read fifty books this year I have signed up to Dorte's 2010 Global Reading Challenge. I've opted for the easy challenge, which is to read a book from an author you haven't read before from Africa, Asia, Australia, Europe, North America and South America. I thought it would be a good way to broaden my reading horizons.

My reading horizons are always gladly expanded by reading the books written by people I interview on the Write On Radio Show. I already have four books on that pile itching to be read.

Then there is the pile of books I have succumbed to upon entering the University Book Shop, which include a few "chunkers" which will slow my rate down a bit. But never mind, I am keen and eager, I just have to find the time...

Seeing Red

Went into town for the first time in ten days.

There are sales on.

I succumbed.

But then, every crime writer needs a pair of knee length red boots, don't they?

Emerging from the post Christmas fuzz...

I love the post-Christmas, chill on through to the New Year summertime fuzz. You eat to much, drink too much if you're lucky, eat some more, swan around, play board games, read books, plan what you're going to eat next, watch the monarch caterpillars do their thing, watch the kids do their thing, watch the Hubby and visiting men-folk do fantastic things with the BBQ, bake more things to eat, and punch the air in jubilation when you get dressed in the morning and find you can still fit your clothes. Ah, summer.

Christmas was a lovely booky affair in our household. In fact all of my requirements for living were met in the pressie department - books, bling and a new tea pot.

We have also acquired a new family member. We affectionately refer to it as 'Buggy.' It being Christmas holidays and reasonably warm I thought it would be a fun holiday project to start a sour dough bread bug - and lo and behold, it worked. We now have this festering, vaguely creepy looking seething mass inhabiting our hot water cupboard and have been enjoying yummy sour dough bread each day. I am pleased to report they are getting better and better each time, and we are not sick of it yet. Mr Seven-Year-Old has proven himself to be a patient and good bread-kneader, so the two of us have been lined up side by side kneading each morning - he has taken charge of the focaccia and I do the sour dough. There's something very satisfying about it - especially eating it!

Well, must dash, time to go and plan what to eat for lunch...