Butterfly and books

If you've been missing me, I've been busy, holidaying and reading and generally trying to catch up. I'll try to get some of my holiday down shortly, but first a word or two about Tainted Tree, and thanks very much to Sharon Bidwell, who you'll find on Facebook and whose books are at Amazon, for her review of TT, which she's very kindly included on Amazon and which I've set out here:

I’m happy to say I took Jacquelynn Luben’s ‘Tainted Tree’ on holiday with me. Initially, I thought I was in for a slow read, but that’s only because it’s a very different book to the type I’ve been reading lately. In reality, this book moves at a gentle, steady pace, perfectly in keeping with the story. A bequest leads American adoptee, Addie Russell, to Surrey in the UK where she will uncover facts about her past that are both painful and bittersweet. The exploration of both her family's history and self-discovery are a slowly unfolding journey of revelations that the reader takes almost as a ghost hovering on Addie’s shoulders. Nothing is rushed; nothing is uncovered out of a logical, practical and perfectly paced sequence. I found the story refreshing, and although capable of making the reader tearful at times, well-balanced and realistic. The writer has said that every word in this book was necessary, and I quickly realised what she meant. I became as engrossed as Addie in the search for her past. A good and well above average summer read.

Thank you very much, Sharon. Much appreciated.

In the meantime, we at Goldenford have published A Brief History of the Whole World - an adapted version of the book written by George Abbot, Archbishop of Canterbury four hundred years ago. The launch took place recently at the historic Abbot's Hospital in Guildford, and the book is now officially available for anyone who wants to see how the world was viewed four centuries ago. It's been adapted and edited by the Master of the Abbot's Hospital.

I have three books that I want to write about here, but since I was at the Royal Opera House to see Madam Butterfly at the beginning of the week, I think they will have to wait. Irene and I went in the afternoon, and had a meal in Covent Garden, which was busy and noisy. Then up to the very top of the Royal Opera House, which is daunting if you're not very keen on heights. I don't mind sitting looking down, but I don't like walking down steps looking down. When we got to our row, I had to pass a man who was already in his seat, and rather than face outwards, I edged along face to face with him. I resisted the temptation to grab hold of him, as if he were a bannister, nevertheless, there was a point when we were almost dancing, if not quite embracing. However, you don't want to know about all that.

This was the first time I had seen Butterfly, although, of course, I know the famous aria, One Fine Day, and much of the story. I hadn't realised though what a cynical character Pinkerton is. I was quite shocked when at the beginning of the story, he says he will rent a house on a 999 year lease, but can terminate at the end of a month - and then applies the same attitude to his forthcoming marriage. What's more Butterfly is only 15. Butterfly was composed at the beginning of the 20th century, but what it's describing is no different from sex tourism today. I felt that unlike some operas, it had a really strong plot. As for the music, Butterfly herself was wonderful, and won a 'bravo' and spontaneous applause for 'One Fine Day'. I don't know whether it's right to applaud mid-story, but I do know from my half a year in a theatrical agency, that in the musical theatre, they love a show stopper. I thought the whole production was good, but I read a slating review on line from the Independant; hunting around I found a good one from The Guardian. However, they both approved of Butterfly, played by Kristine Opolais. My one criticism, which was also mentioned by both papers, was Butterfly's dying scene, when she starts flapping her arms (clad in her white bridal outfit) and lurching forward. What is she doing? I thought, and then realised she was being a dying butterfly. But it didn't work for me; I'd have preferred her to lay dying on the ground in view of Pinkerton. Her 'tacky, flapping gesture' as described by the Guardian, was not only undignified, but what's worse, almost comic - just at the moment, when one should be moved to tears.

Emotions are heightened by that sort of occasion. It put me in a romantic frame of mind and I noticed a couple in the street, as we came out to the street, kissing passionately. As we crossed the bridge to take us back to Waterloo, some young men passed us by. I could imagine that it was the sort of occasion - a warm night in London, buzzing with people - when such a group might turn to a couple of women and say, 'How about coming for a coffee, girls,' and a romance would be born. I had to remind myself that I was no longer in my teens or twenties, and that it would not be happening to me.

I got home at 12.30 like a proverbial Cinderella, and found the OM asleep in a chair. And, as Pepys might have said - and in fact, did say, And So to Bed.