Cornflower Books

Retreating

    Have you ever been on a reading retreat? I think I could do with one to reduce the contents of my in-tray a bit, and while it's not likely I'll get such a thing, I can day-dream! A quick search threw up a castello near Bologna, but while that's all well and good, what I'd much prefer is a stay here. That's Hawthornden Castle, just outside Edinburgh, built in 1638 by the poet William Drummond, and it's actually for writers, not readers, but if you are a published author you can apply for a fellowship and stay there for four weeks in comparative seclusion to get on with your work. That would suit me fine.

Arms and the man

    

    Samuel Colt, bold, blunt and slippery American gun-maker, has established an outpost of his arms manufacturing business in London, his Pimlico factory producing the revolvers he calls "peacemakers". It is 1853 and with war in the Crimea looming, Colt is courting the British government with the aim of securing a supply contract for his weapons, but it's a rough wooing, met in some quarters with indifference and in others with hostility.

    Within the works itself, all is not well. A group of disaffected Irish labourers, refugees from the potato famine, are stirring trouble and plotting against a high-profile political figure. Their grand plans rely on theft, sabotage and worse, all of which will undermine Colt's business and eventually lead to a reversal of fortunes. Amidst all this is Edward Lowry, secretary, man of ambition, but will his eye for a girl on the factory floor prove to be his undoing?

      I found Matthew Plampin's The Gun-Maker's Gift quite slow to build, but once it gets going it held me. Colt is loud and brash, a man of greed and few scruples, while in contrast the less distinct Lowry might have been more crisply drawn - his rôle requires that extra sharpness. What is well done is the recreation of teeming London at the time, from Barry's half-completed Palace of Westminster to the grand houses of the governing classes into which the over-zealous Colt launches himself, and on to the slums and hotbeds of the labourers' quarter. There's a good set-piece scene featuring a very famous person of the age, which is fun, and there's tension and action a-plenty, but I was swept up in the real life and times depicted here, the political manoeuvrings, the gathering storm of war and the sectarian violence - it's thoroughly researched, vividly recreated stuff, and as is to be hoped from a book of this type, has taught me things I didn't know.   

Good lines: understatement

    "... all I've got is the ability to turn a phrase until it catches the light."

Clive James.

You can hear him in Radio 4's Bookclub this afternoon.

B is for ...

... Billy Bookcase, Bondi Beach (you can read all about it here)

... book-bridge

... bookish building.

Our picture-tracker cat, Dark Puss, has been tireless in his hunting this weekend!

Calling all Shropshire lads!

   

   Does anyone have a clean, unmarked copy of Housman's A Shropshire Lad - that's the Penguin English Jouneys edition pictured here - that they'd be willing to part with? Thomas is looking for this book to complete his English Journeys collection, and if you can supply it he will order a book of your choice for you in return. If you can help, leave a comment here or email me and I'll put you in touch.

   And just by the way, do go over to Thomas' blog and watch the Monty Python semaphore version of Wuthering Heights - it's hilarious!

Edited to add: we now have a donor. Thankyou, Jill!

Guns, bombs and dog food

   

   I feel sometimes that in terms of the books which pass across the Cornflower Desk of Power, all life is here, for they are many and various. Take the current bunch:

    I'm well on with Matthew Plampin's The Gun-Maker's Gift which is about Colonel Samuel Colt and his London gun-making factory in the 1850s. Did you know that Colt revolvers were made in Britain? I didn't, but here's a short clip from the author to tell you more.

   Next is Sandra Howard's A Matter of Loyalty. British readers will know this novelist as the wife of politician Michael Howard, and as such she is well-placed to set her book in Westminster with her central character a female Home Secretary dealing with a terrorist threat. It's been described as "genuinely gripping", "intriguing and captivating", so I shall look forward to it.

  Then we have Paul Torday, whose The Irresistible Inheritance of Wilberforce I thoroughly enjoyed a while ago. His new book is called The Hopeless Life Of Charlie Summers and is "a sharp, funny novel about money, greed, redemption ... and dog food". I can't wait!

   That's what I'll be reading over the next few days; how about you?

Books about books

 

    A couple of weeks ago I was asking all you very well-read souls to recommend historical fiction, and a great response I got!

    Then I discovered this little book, 100 Must-Read Historical Novels by Nick Rennison, and I thought that would be the perfect reference resource for when the 'period mood' strikes. It is pretty well pocket size, so ideal for carrying with you when you're in the bookshop or library and want a guide to point you in the right direction. But despite its lack of bulk it looks to pack a lot of information in between its covers.

    I've just been skimming through it, but here's the gist: 100 titles arranged A-Z by author with a further 500 'read on' recommendations; themed categories such as 'Scotland', eighteenth century adventures, writers' lives, and so on. Each of the 100 main books covered has been chosen to represent the broad range of the genre, while entries are concise, give some information about the author as well as their book and then suggest further reading, either stylistically similar or thematically linked, and film versions where relevant.

    How long will my wishlist be when I've dipped into this a few times, I wonder.

A bit more explanation

    I've had a couple of queries recently from people who are unsure how this site works, so a bit of clarification is in order (there's more on Cornflower itself).

    Beginning life as a Cornflower seedling, Cornflower Books exists for two reasons: firstly, so that I can blether away about books to my heart's content and not risk boring those who prefer all the domestic arts stuff which I do on the original site, and secondly so that the Cornflower Book Group has its home in a bookish environment.

    What this means is that every month, only one book covered here is a book group book (clearly labelled as such), and all the rest are what I happen to be reading myself, independently of everyone else. In addition, of course, there are all sorts of miscellaneous posts, some daft, some fun, some with the aim of getting people talking, as I so enjoy that sort of conversation and everyone gets to contribute their reading knowledge and experience which is great.

    Reviewing. A clairvoyant once told me that she could see me surrounded by books. At the time I thought little of it as our house has always contained a lot of books, but that was quite a while ago, and if she was 'seeing' me as I am now, she was absolutely right for nowadays I am quite literally surrounded by books. They arrive with almost every post, and while this delights and excites me, it means that some will wait a long time for me to get to them. With great reluctance, and when I'm in danger of being overwhelmed, I have to say 'no' to offers of new ones. You wouldn't believe how much that goes against the grain, but I have to be realistic about how many I can read  - and how long I can expect people to wait to see their books appearing here - and occasionally I have to halt the flow for a while until I can reduce the piles a bit.

    I never ask for books. That's to say that if I'm sent a publisher's catalogue with an invitation to choose from it, chances are I shall pick something, or if I'm offered a specific book I'll consider it, but I have never approached a publisher to request anything. If I want a particular book that hasn't been offered as above then I'll always buy it. When I give a book away by means of a draw it will be one I have bought specifically for that purpose, unless as has happened once or twice, I've been sent two copies of something by chance or mistake.

    With what I do get I follow a set procedure I've devised to try to handle everything professionally. That sounds a bit much, perhaps, but volumes (in both senses) demand it. I try to be fair, taking things roughly in chronological order and not doing too many books from one source altogether, but there is only one of me and I'm human and sometimes I want to read what I want to read and not what I've been asked to read, so the piles will have to wait, but I consider myself privileged to be in this position and I take it very seriously.

     If there's anything else you'd like to know, do ask.

Life and times

    

    We often talk about books being moving, but how many of them actually cause in the reader a strong emotional shift? We speak of books which make us think, but do they put such a fine focus on a subject that we come away feeling not only well-informed but having had our conscience exercised, or the working order of our moral compass checked?

     Hazel McHaffie's novel Right to Die does all this and more. It's extremely well-researched and very readable indeed, and as the issues it covers are highly topical and the questions it asks are hard ones, it's an important book, too.

     Its main character, Adam O'Neill, is a young man, a highly-respected journalist, who discovers that he has Motor Neurone Disease, a pernicious, degenerative condition from which he will die. The book takes the form of Adam's diary, but interspersed with his entries are the thoughts of his wife, Naomi, on reading his words much later. While Adam's physical decline is chronicled - and this is sensitively handled and skilfully incorporated into the narrative - his intellect remains sharp and his intentions clear, and it is his wish to meet a dignified end at a time of his own choosing that is at the book's core. 

     Around Adam are practitioners of various medical disciplines from a larger-than-life West Indian physiotherapist to a GP of the kindest, most compassionate sort, and others who range from tactless and self-centred to supportive and respectful of Adam's wider needs; and then there's Naomi, who must make hard decisions of her own. But central is Adam himself, and this very personal account of facing a shortened life, of coping with diminished capacity, is very powerful. I was struck by how often the prefix 'in-' occurred: indignity, inevitable, insignificant, invalidity, invisible, incurable, intolerable, insensitivity - all these negative words describe and define Adam, his situation, the attitude of others towards him; there are few positives when deterioration is inexorable. But this is not a bleak book by any means because its essential humanity and empathy lift it above 'the mere facts of the case'. That spirit, coupled with a well-balanced handling of the medical, ethical and legal aspects of the subject and their careful presentation through character and plot, makes for a book that is absorbing reading and solid food for thought.

Green and pleasant

     I'm delighted to have been asked by Tim and Simon of The Big Green Bookshop in London to be part of their innovative Bloggers' Book of the Month feature, which you can find both on their website and in the shop itself. Follow that link to see the good company I'm in and to find out which book I've chosen to start with (predictable, maybe, but nonetheless very good!).

    I'll just have to make a trip to London to see that display in situ, but for now, here's a glimpse.

Neither a borrower nor a lender be

   Would you - do you - lend books to friends, or borrow books from them?

   A tricky subject this as it could so easily lead to a falling out of some degree if the borrower is cavalier in their attitude to the lender's property, or if one party is seen as slighting the other by refusing to lend, perhaps because they've been let down in the past. Trust can be misplaced, or wrongly withheld.

   If we're looking at the subject in its wider context then here's another thought, though I admit it's a bit extreme for most people's consideration: by borrowing from a friend rather than buying, or using the library (and we talked about the wider economic consequences of that a while ago), we are effectively denying the author their royalty (or PLR payment). Our conscience may tell us that though borrowing in this way is entirely legal, it has moral implications.

   Postal book groups (and here's one which explains how they work) operate on a 'rolling loan' system, passing a book from the owner round all the group members and back home again. What condition is the book in when it has done the rounds, I wonder, and do they ever go astray or get forgotten?

   Lastly on lending there's the 'bad bargain' as in Martial's Epigram: "Why do I not send you my books, Pontilianus? Lest you should send me yours, Pontilianus." Tastes may not always be shared, even amongst the best of friends!

Good lines: on being precipitate - or not

"She wore a 'terra-cotta' dress, And we stayed, because of the pelting storm, Within the hansom's dry recess, Though the horse had stopped; yea, motionless We sat on, snug and warm.

Then the downpour ceased, to my sharp, sad pain, And the glass that had screened our forms before Flew up and out she sprang to her door: I should have kissed her if the rain had lasted a minute more."

A Thunderstorm in Town by Thomas Hardy.

Book ends

    Seen at the National Museum of Scotland shop, wooden book ends. I should have bought them!

On Gwyneth

    Alis Hawkins' promised piece on medieval women as master craftsmen is now up on her blog, and readers of Testament will find that extra background to the book very interesting.

Have you read ... Elizabeth Peters

   

    Harriet has been reading Crocodile on the Sandbank, the first of Elizabeth Peters' Amelia Peabody mysteries. She loved it and had to have volume two, The Curse of the Pharaohs, ready to go as soon as she reached the last page of volume one.

    These books about a Victorian Egyptologist were originally recommended to me by a very well-read friend who said they were tremendous fun. Harriet agrees and is very glad to know that there are many more in the series for her to enjoy. I rather fancy them, too.

    Have you read them?

Edited to add: Reading all your comments, it looks as though these books are a real treat in store!

Once upon a time

    If all writers were as good at telling a story as this young lady is, think how much better entertained we readers would be. What imagination, what vocabulary, what narrative skill! I love the expression, the dramatic force, the free-ranging story, and all of it no doubt ad lib. Did A. A. Milne ever envisage such an adventure for "Winnie l'ourson", do you think?

A portrait of the artist

   

     Aeronwy Thomas' My Father's Places, her memoir of her childhood in Wales, is a very readable, unselfconsciously natural account of an unusual upbringing. She, her baby brother Colm, her famous father Dylan, and volatile mother, Caitlin, came to live at The Boat House in Laugharne under the patronage of Margaret Taylor (wife of A.J.P.). Money was always short, though there seemed to be plenty for drink, the children were left to their own devices to an alarming degree, but amidst extended family, friends and neighbours, life seemed largely happy if not exactly settled.

   Of course, what we want to know about is Dylan Thomas himself, and he's presented more in a series of sketches cropping up in the general scheme of things rather than by means of a deliberate study, so for instance his daughter describes him at Colm's christening party "looking round like a benevolent teddy bear, talking to Augustus [John] and drinking beer from one of Granny's best porcelain cups", or reading to her from The Wind in the Willows, "Dad modulating his voice differently for each character", and meeting the Queen who passes on warm regards from her mother.

    His work methods are interesting, locked into his writing shed by Caitlin - her contribution to his literary output and thus to twentieth century poetry - he had the view to inspire him, but 'forbidden' detective novels were confiscated so that he wouldn't be distracted. If the family could hear Dylan's voice they knew he was working, testing his lines by speaking them; if there was silence, they could tell he had succumbed to the charms of a Raymond Chandler or an Agatha Christie, and there would be nothing to show for the hours of his forced seclusion.

   I'd have liked more about Dylan - as Aeronwy would have liked more time with him - but he was often absent, away on tours or broadcasting, and then he died suddenly in America when his daughter was still very young. No happy ending, then, and the reader's left to think what might have been ...

A little snooze

    Another Dark Puss 'find' for us, this time library users 'resting their eyes'; (my favourite is the toddler quite near the bottom of the page!). I wonder what they were reading that caused them to doze off? The Big Sleep, Twilight Sleep or Sleep, Pale Sister?

    Here's a genuine question, though, are e-readers less snooze-inducing than paper books? I mean, does the pressing of the buttons and what have you perhaps use areas of the brain not employed by a normal book and does this keep the reader more alert? I see the new iPad includes "a virtual bookshelf complete with cover art", which sounds interesting - more on the device here, if you're still awake.

Happy days

    

     I'm jumping the gun a bit with this book as it won't be out here for a while and I hadn't intended to read it now, but I picked up Hector and the Search for Happiness by François Lelord after a particularly stressful and exhausting day when no other book would do, and it was just the thing for some light relief but with enough depth to it to make for a soothing and very engaging read.

    I found it delightful, and was taken by its central character (who reminded me a bit of Louis Theroux) from the very first page. Hector is a psychiatrist and he's very good at his job. He talks to his patients, listens to them and is genuinely interested in them and in what causes them to seek treatment, but he's aware that many of them are not so much ill as just deeply dissatisfied with their lives, and he finds this puzzling and wearing.

    Hector decides to take a break, a busman's holiday, travelling around the world to try to find out what makes us happy - or not - and searching for the elusive key to that state which can be as hard to recognise as it is to define. Along the way, Hector meets people and encounters certain situations, both mundane and extreme, experiences which his perceptive, logical mind distills down to form 'lessons' about happiness, ones he can apply to his own life as well as offering his patients.

   I could use words such as 'quirky' and 'idiosyncratic' to describe this book, and its distinctive, simplistic style is perhaps deceptive, but it is a fable and commentary on modern life, full of a kind of wise but innocent charm and amusing authorial asides. Many a self-help book or even an academic study would tell you no more about 'cultivating your serenity' or 'subjective well-being' than this novel, but its psychiatrist author has cleverly got to the nub of things here and has chosen to present these findings in a beautifully naive manner.

   What does Hector eventually discover? You'll have to read it yourself to find out!

Poetry posting

     Poetry Live for Haiti  (full details there) will take place in London on Saturday 30th. January.

                                                ~~~~~

    A poet, only the fourth ever, has won this year's Costa Book Award. The overall prize goes to Christopher Reid for A Scattering.

    (Pipped at the post is Cólm Toibín, tipped to win for Brooklyn, and memorably described in this article as having "an extraordinary head. It looks as if it was sculpted by someone with enormous powers of expression but fairly rudimentary chisel skills."!).