Books, and Blossoms in May

In the lovely sunny days that have passed since my last entry, we have had several days out, not least because of the bank holidays all falling together. Two trips to Wisley – one with the OH, and the other with friends, our first visit to Loseley Park in Guildford – I may find some photos – and a family lunch at Cookham for 16 people, when we celebrated the 93^rd birthday of an aunt. I also went with the OH lecture at a science laboratory in Holmbury St Mary. Nice garden and wonderful view. I took some snaps there too. We also went to a friend with a wonderful garden, similarly, on the North Downs, though I forgot my camera on that occasion. We were most impressed with the walled garden at Loseley. It was a windy day, but inside the walled garden, it was sunny and beautifully sheltered; we couldn't believe that roses were flowering there already, so early in May.

On the writing front, I gave a very successful talk at Knaphill Library, to the reading circle there – about a dozen or more people. I had a number of book sales, there, of all three of my books – Tainted Tree, my genealogical novel which tells of American adoptee, Addie Russell's search for her identity; A Bottle of Plonk, a tale of a cheap bottle of wine, and the people whose hands it passes through, and also, The Fruit of the Tree – my autobiographical account of my experience of cot death and miscarriage.

I had a lovely email from the group organiser, who said, 'We really enjoyed your talk, the group were all talking so enthusiastically about you afterwards that I had difficulty persuading them to go home so the cleaners would come in.'

This is all most encouraging, particularly as my American e-publisher, Virtual Tales, has ceased to be, and I'm waiting to see if the American version of Plonk – Have Wine, Will Travel, will be taken up by Untreed Reads. Of course, I now have three short stories on line, two of which have been published by www.untreedreads.com and contracts for several more, so anyone who wants to try out my work with something really short, will find these, both there, and on my Amazon page.

I finished reading If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things, but I won't comment on it now. I will let it simmer in my mind, so that I can give fair comment about it.

I thought you might enjoy another virtual tour of the garden, because, of course, everything has changed since the spring photos and description.

Now that the red leaves of the pieris have faded, the back of the garden is muted and full of subtlety. We have many colours of leaf – the pieris themselves are a yellow-green or lime green, now, contrasting with the emerald of the laurel, and the darker shades of the conifers, around and behind them. The even darker cotoneaster is now peppered with tiny white flowers and their marzipan scent attracts numerous bees to visit. They blend in with the grey green of senecio, and this, in turn, highlights the coppery red of the berberis, alongside it. This is the view from my kitchen window and my little study window, where I now sit.

At the front, the garden is, at present, filled with a vulgar display of colour, quite the opposite to the back. We have rhododendrons of pale mauve and pinky mauve – the natural varieties – and also deep purple, pink and scarlet bushes, occupying a centre bed. I love these wonderful colours, just as much as the quiet tones of the other garden. The other front beds are edged with masses of cranesbill, not large showy flowers like the rhododendrons, but in quantity, doing a fine job of bringing colour to the garden at this time of year, and also attracting bees. The beds are also sporting the blue of cornflowers and potentillas of lemon yellow and gold against the backdrop of senecio, pieris and wine coloured berberis. Just in front of the window, there are three roses in bud – survivors of the havoc wrought by numerous deer over time. Two nights ago, I saw a deer in the garden – I shushed it away, and the roses have survived again. Whether they will get a chance to flower remains to be seen. It was cold last night, so I don't discount the possibility of frost. I will wait till next month before putting out bedding plants. We still have winter flowering velvety pansies in yellow and purple, in two tubs and two hanging baskets by the front door.

We have three rainwater butts, and have used them to water wherever it was necessary – not the grass, just plants. The butts were only one-third full, after five or six weeks with no rain, but the rain last weekend refilled them, and we're getting a fourth butt, in case of dry weather, late in the year. Not that I'm complaining. This has been a wonderful spring.

My last book circle read - The Lacuna

I didn’t really enjoy this book, to start with. There was so much concentration on the writing and not enough on the main character. I recognised that this was a literary book, but each time I put it down, I couldn’t remember anything about it. For me people are more important than lyrical writing. I can’t say that I will enjoy something that’s badly written, but I can be tempted in to almost any good story and good characters.

Initially, the hero, Harrison Shepherd, doesn’t seem to have an identity. Each person that he works for seems to give him a different name. I started to get interested about page 70. Whether before or after that, I enjoyed it when Harrison is first employed to make plaster by sculptor, Diego Rivera, and liked the idea of him becoming expert at it because it was like making dough for sweet buns. I liked the beginning of the relationship that had developed, there.

I began to see the humour in the Harrison’s words and descriptions. Gradually the book took off, and I enjoyed all the latter part, as he progressed to manhood (and became an influential writer) and particularly the important relationships in his life – that with Lev Trotsky, with the Mexican artists, Rivera and Frida Kahlo, and most of all, with his secretary and protector – Violet Brown. I was also extremely interested in the period of the ‘Un-American activities’, the witch-hunts, which Harrison falls victim to, and moved by his increasing sense of aloneness and desertion by many. I appreciated and applauded the ending.

I would give the book 3.5 if I could, not, 4, because it took too long to get to the point, but better than 3, because in the end, I enjoyed most of it. Just as I would have chopped a chunk off the end of Poisonwood, so I would contract the beginning, and get to Violet Brown much, much faster, in The Lacuna.

Spring pictures

April - far from cruel

My garden in spring always makes me happy, and these last few days, with no rain, and sunshine as warm as May or June, have allowed me to wander in and out just to see what’s coming up. My ideal is that there should be colour and flower throughout the year, but somehow, this year at least, the early flowers have stayed and many of the new ones have arrived.

So today, I’m taking you on a virtual tour. I can’t really capture the whole view in photographs, so probably there won’t be any. You’ll have to make do with words and descriptions alone. At the back, at the end of a lawn, there’s a mixture of laurel and leylandii, which despite its reputation does a good job at screening us from neighbours. In front of that I can see three pieris, one of which was planted last year and the others, the year before. Pieries bear a white hanging flower, not dissimilar to a catkin, but though these have few discernible flowers this year, they have bright red new leaves, contrasting with the old lime green ones. At their feet, the first of the bluebells are making an appearance, contrasting with the pillar box red foliage. At the moment three tiny rabbits are frolicking on the grass and eating what they can of my plants, no doubt.

Down the side of the grass, there’s a mix of shrubs in greens, grey and wine red, in front of which are yellow and red polyanthus – or primula, or primroses, whichever you like to call them. Blending in are forget-me-nots and the shrub, mahonia, which has evergreen leaves but these have red mixed in with the greens, and now sport bright yellow flowers.

Outside of the front window of the house are two further beds, and there is a far one, where little grows because of the huge chestnut tree which shades it. We have started growing daffodils there, and they were in evidence, a couple of weeks ago. On the other beds, there are still some daffs, polyanthus - and bluebells just starting, plus a mass of grape hyacinths (muscari). These tiny flowers, which, like the daffodils, will be untidy in another week, have nevertheless cheered us with their brilliant blue colour, impossible to record on camera. Here too, we have another group of mahonia with their bright yellow flowers, and more pieris, showing both creamy white flowers and vermillion leaves. We used to have a gap in May, just after this cornucopia of colour, when almost everything turn to leaf. But the first of the cranesbill blooms, the size of a two pence piece and bright pink – almost periwinkle – has made its appearance, and more of these tiny perennial geraniums will encircle the beds as the spring progresses.

Learning about rejection at Panton House

I was listening to a programme about actors today – some time back in the 60s or 70s. They were short of money, trying out all sorts of things – a bit like writers, really. Now of course, they’re the important actors of our time – Bill Nighy, Alun Armstrong and others. Back then, they struggled. It reminded me of the theatrical agency that I joined as my first job. Where are you now, Renee, I wonder. We were a foursome in a small set of offices in Panton House, Panton Street, not far from Picadilly. The boss, Renee (never work for a woman!), next one down, Basil. My sidekick and Renee’s secretary, Carole (now was it with or without an e.? ) And me, the office junior.

I thought it would be exciting, but it was boring, because I didn’t have challenging enough work to do. We had very few stars through the door, but an inordinate number of young hopefuls, each clutching their portfolio of photographs and their CV of accomplishments. My boss expected me to make coffee in the morning and tea in the afternoon, but I had to heat the water in a saucepan. My coffee turned out really well – but the tea was hopeless – you really should have a kettle for tea. She bought the cheapest tea, anyway – I think it was Brooke Bond Dividend – because I know her little son use to get some sort of benefit, like a stamp or similar from each pack.

One day the little blighter – he was 3 – was brought to the office and put in my care, because there was no babysitter available. While I wasn’t looking, he opened all the drawers of the filing cabinet and it nearly fell on top of me. When she went abroad, she used to ring in and get me to telephone her husband’s office on one line and her father in law on another. (We only had three lines.) The first time I did this, I cut her off. But Basil covered for me.

We never discovered anyone important, but that’s not surprising because most of the young actors and actresses who darkened the door were sent away. I learned about rejection long before I experienced it.

I’ve been out to lunch today, and we sat in the sunshine in a pub garden. Then we moved to our friends’ garden and sat there. Yesterday, we walked through our lovely woods delivering leaflets about the meeting in a week’s time. We do not want our wood destroyed and fenced off.

Earlier in the week, I took 1000 words to Guildford Writers; progress is being made slowly on the novel, Innocent Bystanders. Ditto my reading book The Lacuna. I can appreciate the writing, but I can’t say I am being drawn to read it. As far as I’m concerned, it is putdownable.

At the weekend, we visited the family in Cambridge. The two granddaughters are both in a position to look down on me, as even the 9 year old is taller than I am.

This morning I got a notification that my story, An Affair of the Mind had been reviewed by

Aquaflame64 of Night Owl Reviews, who said:

The story is three and a half pages long but has a relatable charm and a tiny sense of humor. I believe everyone out there has let paranoia get the best of them at one point in their lives. We've all had that moment where we look over our shoulder because we think someone is following us. Rosalind has months filled with these moments after a bus ride. The story has two twists that I didn't see coming and found very satisfying.
The only bad part of the story was Rosalind’s obsession with a man she meets on the bus. I can understand the attraction towards the man. The months of obsessing and fantasizing about the man seems to go a bit far and feel forced. Other then that minor problem this is exactly what a short story should be.

Aquaflame64 gave it 3.5 points out of 5, and I was quite happy with her review. You can see it here:

http://www.nightowlreviews.com/nor/Reviews/Aquaflame64-reviews-An-Affair-Of-The-Mind-by-Jacquelynn-Luben.aspx

Reading, Writing, Music and Chocolate

Another pretty active week has passed, and I'm thinking of getting this down and then going for a walk. I just had a chocolate biscuit, courtesy of Irene, so perhaps I'd better walk some extra steps.

Since my last posting (that's better than blog, surely) I have been to another meeting of those against returning our local woodland to heathland. I haven't changed my mind on this; there are places where heath is fine; I just don't think our little woodland is one of them. We have a public meeting arranged for a couple of weeks' time, when more people hopefully will have taken an interest.

We at Goldenford Publishers arranged a musical evening in Guildford last Saturday night, using the prestigious Guildhall for an event which featured the Erato Consort singers and the Minstrels Gallery players. Jay Margrave gave readings of her novels, The Gawain Quest, Luther's Ambassadors and The Nine Lives of Kit Marlowe, all of which feature Priedeux, a hero who moves from century to century, rather like Blackadder, only without the humour, I've always thought, but the author has suggested Virginia Woolf's Orlando is more appropriate.

On Monday, Irene and I raced up to London to see Lucia di Lammermoor at the Imax by Waterloo Station. A wonderful experience, featuring Natalie Dessay as Lucia and Joseph Calleja as Edgardo. Also interesting was the filming of the work behind the scenes in the intervals, at Metropolitan Opera, which showed the placing on stage and removals of the sets - a Scottish moor and Lammermoor Castle, including a two-storey high spiral staircase. This starred the Chief Carpenter -but perhaps 40 minutes of him was a bit long, and if the lights had come on during the intervals, we could, more easily, have wandered off for drinks and icecream.

I was out yesterday, for a pub lunch with friends, and in the evening, to Guildford Writers, where having averaged 7 or 8 for some months, 12 people were suddenly present, and a great deal of talent was showcased. I have added a little more to my novel, but not enough to read out this time; just as well, as 5 minutes per person was about all we had time for, for of course, we needed time for comments and our usual break. Hot chocolate was back on the menu at the Institute after about 2 months. Just as well, as the cafe at the Imax was out of it. Has someone cornered the market in hot chocolate, I wonder.

I now have a formal invitation to speak at a local reading circle in May, so will shortly start preparing my script for this event. Must also soon start on the next book for my own reading circle - The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver.

A Month in the Country

Goodness. A whole month has elapsed since my last blog, and it has been quite a busy time. Ay, there’s the rub, as Hamlet might have said. When I’m busy, I haven’t got time to report back here, and when I’m not, there’s nothing to say.

Firstly, there was the family visit, when the Son&H and the ProdigalD came with their respective partners and a total of four granddaughters – oh and the dog. The latter arrived on Friday and the former on Saturday, and we had a family roast for the ten of us (not the dog). The semi-vegetarians of the next generation down had my speciality, vegetable terrine – recipe available to those who ask nicely. It’s a long time since I’ve catered for a large group, but it worked out all right. Everyone got on well together including GDs 2 and 3, who are both 9, and who stayed home and played together when nearly everyone else went for a walk. GD1 was very keen to take control of the dog, and GD4 didn’t care one way or the other.

If was February then, and having counted 18 snowdrop flowers this year, I checked up on last year’s total, which turned out to be 16. It appears that last year, I had split my two clumps into four, but one lot must have been either dug up, or damaged by the very cold weather. My daughter in law thought I meant 18 clumps when I told her this exciting total, and expected to see a vast swathe of white blooms. I’m a gardener. I’m patient. Part of the fun of planting a new bulb, or moving an old one is to see an increase year by year.

Two outings later that week were to Opera South at Haslemere, when we met up with the OH’s cousins in an annual tradition and had tea, sandwiches and cakes in a pub in Chiddingfold. Then on to see Peter the Great. Later in the week, I went to London to meet my friend, Pam, and we went to Tate Britain to see the exhibition of water colours, which were surprisingly varied.

Apart from mid week lunches with friends, the OH and I went to a family birthday party (60 is the new 40) – this time meeting up with his cousins on the other side. Just as well, because this weekend, my side were represented when I did lunch for 11 of us. No vegetarians this time. I made chicken with peppers and mushrooms; loads of potatoes, ratatouille and green veg. I cooked more than I needed, so there’s another meal for us, when I’m feeling lazy. And the OH is delighted that there were leftovers from the three desserts – apple crumble, fruit salad and pears in chocolate sauce. Also two portions of homemade cheesecake, which I froze so we wouldn’t be tempted. I’m up two or three pounds since a few weeks ago, and resumed walks yesterday.

Last week was also the reading circle and the book I’d suggested, The Help went down well with most people. I thought it was a really good read and fantastic for a first novel. My comments:

I’m not a fan of books with a message. So I might have shied away from The Help if I hadn’t heard a serialised version on the radio, a year or so ago. That convinced me that this was a book well worth reading, and I was not disappointed.

The Help tells a story about apartheid in the USA in the 1960s, the casual racism of white middle class women, the disdain which they, or at least some of them, treat the women who run their homes and bring up their children. However, this is told with such lightness of touch and such humour that one absorbs the information at the same time as wanting very much to know what’s going to happen next.

The story is told through the viewpoints of three women and in their own voices: Abileen is a pious and caring person in late middle age. She loves her charge, Mae Mobley, and endeavours to bring her up with good principles and self esteem and tries to give her the affection she doesn’t get from her mother.

Minny is about forty, sassy towards her employers and impulsive, sometimes unable to reign in her behaviour and her temper. She does, however, seem to develop affection for her employer though she doesn’t exactly own up to it in her autobiographical account.

Skeeter is a 24 year old white woman, who is having difficulty in satisfying her mother’s desire for her to make a good match, but who realises that her ambition is for something more than that.

Out of this comes Skeeter’s move to journalism and her attempt to portray the lives of the black women servants. The two black women show tremendous courage in taking this on, as do the rest of the interviewees. But Skeeter is also brave, because what she faces is ostracism by her friends, potentially her family and even her potential future husband, and, despite their faults, she does feel affection for these people who reject her.

I had to suspend disbelief about one or two things, and more specifically, the happy ending. In reality the consequences could have been much worse. However, I believed in the characters, including those who were not the star players. I was comfortable with the voices of the main characters and got used to their way of speech very quickly. For me, what is important is the authenticity of the characters and my ability to empathise with them, as well as the plot. The Help succeeded in that on all counts, as well as being a page turner.

As far as my own works are concerned, PLR and the ALCS, (good to register with both if you’re a writer) both paid out money to me, which I appreciated. Also I have progressed a little with the current novel, Innocent Bystanders and I’ve proof-read An Affair of the Mind, which I assume will soon be live at Untreed Reads. I also have a contract to return for another of my short stories.

Another Goldenford meeting is impending, so I’ll call it a day. Daffodils are out now in our garden. Good to see some colour again.