Sunday, 21 December 2008

Personent Hodie

Personent hodie
Voces puerulae,
Laudantes iucunde
Qui nobis est natus,
Summo Deo datus,
Et de virgineo
Ventre procreatus.

In mundo nascitur;
Pannis involvitur;
Praesepi ponitur
Stabulo brutorum*
Rector supernorum;
Perdidit spolia
Princeps Infernorum.

Magi tres venerunt;
Munera offerunt;
Parvulum inquirunt,
Stellulam sequendo,
Ipsum adorando,
Aurum, thus et myrrham
Ei offerendo.

Omnes clericuli,
Pariter pueri,
Cantent ut angeli:
'Advenisti mundo:
Laudes tibi fundo
Ideo: Gloria
In excelsis Deo'.

Those people who have known me forever call me Marvo the memory woman. Not because of my near photographic memory for dates, facts, formulae, vocab or whatever but because I always remember the minutiae of life - the stuff that actually happened to us when we were kids. Who said what to whom, who did what, times, dates, places, etc. Plus all that TV and film trivia too. Turns out, I was an early prototype of wikipedia.

Well - I'm not entirely convinced my memory is entirely what it was. There are some things though that will be carved on my heart forever. There are plenty of things - loads and loads of things, too many things perhaps - that I cling on to from my childhood and school days. Some things that might be better let go....but the clearest and best memories I have are of Christmas, and the school carol concerts. They were the highlight of the school year, if music was your thing. And they were certainly the highlight of my year for the 7 years I was at Coloma.I loved singing in those concerts, I loved the predictableness of them, I loved the songs we used to sing. One of the worst things about living in Exeter is that the carols here are absolutely dire. Apparently Devonians have sworn off all good carols and only consent to sing the dirgey ones or bizarrely random ones. So, it's many years since I sung the proper Christmas songs. But I'll never forget them.

Personent Hodie
See Amid the Winter's Snow
In the Bleak Midwinter
All under the leaves
This Little Babe
We three kings
Hark the Herold
Come come come to the manager
Buloolaloo

*The gusto with which we used to sing this line was always quite satisfying. Or maybe that was just me!

Monday, 24 November 2008

The one where Sharpe wins the battle of Agincourt. Sort of.



I love Sharpe books. I really really love them. I love them more than the telly version of Sharpe, but let's be honest - I love them as much as I do because of the telly version, even though I read some of the book s before I ever saw Sean Bean marching across a muddy field being all rough and northern and ....ahem. I lack the imagination to invent Sean Bean. I also lack the spatial awareness to be able to picture battles or sieges or whatever if I haven't previously seen them realised on screen with about 20 Russian extras and a dog.

So - to recap. I love Sharpe books. I love Sharpe on the telly. I especially love Sean Bean (if I had a triumvirate of wonderfulness to accompany the triumvirate of ultimate evil, he'd be there. With Toby. And Shirtless! )



Where am I going with this? You may well ask.

This blog entry isn't about the Sharpe books, or about the Sharpe telly, or about the relative merits of Sean Bean, Toby or Shirtless!. I may, one day write blogs about one or all of those things. but today is not that day and this blog is not that blog (those blogs?). This is about Azincourt, Bernard Cornwell's latest best seller, which is far and away the most enjoyable book I have read in some time. It's really great, buy it now. And, you know, read it. Having said that, though - and absolutely standing by it - there are just a few things which....amused me.

Primarily, I spent the entire book trying to work out which part BC has earmarked for Sean Bean in the (hopefully) inevitable film adaptation (it has to be filmed, it's brilliant. Buy it now). Sadly, Sean Bean is too old to play the hero. Now that's a sobering thought. And believe me, I'm not happy voicing it. But it's true. The hero is - maybe 19? If that. So....not Sean. Tell you who would be good - the actor currently playing King Arthur, in Merlin. Or indeed Merlin himself, he'd be great too. But I digress. It's not Sean's part. Surely BC hasn't abandoned him? Especially as I can hear his voice all the time when I'm reading the book - every time more French people get disemboweled in inventive and rather graphically described ways (he's just helping the art department here, I'm sure that's what he is trying to do) I can hear Sean saying 'take that yer French Bastards' and boy, does it bring a song to my heart and a smile to my lips.

Hmmmm. voices. In my head. Perhaps BC has earmarked Sean for the part of either Saint Crispin or Saint Crispinian, two patron saints of Soissons, a Burgundian town which underwent atrocity at the hands of the French shortly before Agincourt, and who used the hero - Nicholas Hook - as their tool to help get revenge on the French. They speak to him throughout the course of the book, and as far as the reader is concerned, they are real. Now - there is absolutely no mention of them speaking in a Sheffield accent. But on the other hand - nowhere does it say they don't. So Sean could be one of them. Or both of them. But we wouldn't actually see him. Which would be a terrible waste and relegate the film or TV adaptation to the status of an O2 commercial. We can't be having that. So, although maybe Sean could do their voices too (because he is after all totally heavenly) he needs a proper part. And I know which one - clearly he is supposed to play Henry V. Henry has quite a big role actually (much bigger than Wellington got in Sharpe's Waterloo or Nelson got in Sharpe's Trafalgar) and I can definitely hear his words in Sean's voice. Oh yes. Accent and all. And let's face it - what's the point in being the divinely ordained King of England and lots of other places (including - and of course this is the nub of the problem - France) if you can't look like Sean Bean?

So that's that sorted. Next up - how do we solve a problem like Obadiah? BC killed off Obadiah Hakeswill in the one where Hakeswill gets shot and it was a huge mistake. Sharpe never again had a foe as dastardly. BC even had to bring him back in the prequels. Because he was such a great character. So, in Azincourt, BC clearly decided that waste not want not and recreated Obadiah in the guise of sir Martin - a randy rapine priest, who does most of the things Hakeswill did, including the whole steal something valuable and plant it in someone's baggage to get him in trouble (only this time the poor sod got hung not just flogged). This time round though, the not!Theresa managed to not only avoid being raped by him but managed to kill him. So finally we get closure for Theresa's death. And justice is done. The not!Theresa is a good character. And her Sharpe (Hook) actually marries her. And appears to be faithful. this too is good.

One bad point - there is no Harps equivalent. I can't work out why. Unless it's to give Hook and Melisande (which is what we have to remember to call the not!Theresa) a chance. Sharpe and Theresa never had a proper chance cos clearly he loved Harps more than her (didn't we all). This time round there is no rival for Hook/Sharpe's heart.

Anyway - as I said right from the start - Azincourt is a fabulous book. Massively entertaining, well written, detailed - and very very familiar. Which is good if you like that sort of thing. And I SO do. And I'm thinking that anyone else who likes Sharpe will, too. And anyone who hasn't read Sharpe, but is interested in the battle of Agincourt, and reads and enjoys Azincourt - get yourself down to the bookshop and buy some Sharpe books cos if you like the one you'll like the other. Guaranteed.

Monday, 10 November 2008

Tell me where you're going

I really like a LOT of singers.

Seriously. A LOT. I'm not mean with my affections. I'm not sparing with my praise. I'm also really very loyal. All of which means there are a vast number of artistes I consider to be 'mine'.

Very high up this really quite long list, is Silje Nergaard. I've never seen Silje live - although I still harbour vague ambitions of doing so at some point. I'm sure she's very good live - but all I have to go on is her recordings. Which are wonderful.

Silje is a Norwegian jazz singer who gained a very small amount of fame in the UK in the 90s when she released a single called 'Tell me where you're going' which got a fair amount of airplay on the DLT show on radio 1 at the weekends. Not the most promising of testimonials you might think - but actually, at that time DLT was playing good stuff. Lots of Steely Dan and Donald Fagen, which was what reeled me in (see what I did there? ;) ) and lots of stuff that people who liked that sort of thing would, you know, like.

And I did.

Sadly, few other people did and Silje's UK career didn't take off. So she went back to Norway, and released a whole series of wonderful Jazzy records which are a delight to listen to. My personal favourites include 'At First Light' and 'Darkness Out of Blue', both of which have some beautiful songs. and 'Tell me where you're going' remains one of the most joyful and uplifting pop songs I have ever heard.

So - love the lovely Silje!


Sunday, 9 November 2008

Deep Secret

Deep Secret is one of only 3 'adult' novels by Diana Wynne Jones (I'll get round to the other 2 at some point). Why is it an adult book? Well............there's a small amount of rudeness, I suppose. There's quite a lot of death and destruction - but no more than in your average Star Wars film. There is also the question of family betrayal - but that can be a staple of literature aimed at young people, so........

Of course, there is the whole people shagging centaurs thing. Apparently a half humanoid half centaur child is.... a centaur. I think it's important to clear that one up. I should probably also confirm that there is no centaur shenanigans actually depicted in the book. But the fact that it did happen is central to the plot, and its resolution.

There is actually a significant death toll in this book - but it doesn't really feel gratuitous. The main plot strand concerns the issue of succession to the throne of the Koryphonic empire - a previously vital construct which keeps the universe in balance, which has passed its sell by date and is due to decline and fall.

There is intrigue, danger, humour, a trip to Babylon, family betrayal, evil magic, heroism, bravery...................but the centrepiece of the action, and the book, is a science fictoin convention in Swindon. Oh yes. Not the Leisure Hive, I think - more likely to be based on a World Con, I'm guessing - but still. Very familiar scenario to those of us who spent rather too much time attending conventions in the 80s and 90s. In Swindon (sometimes). I'd almost certainly love this book if it didn't have the convention stuff. It is, after all, DWJ, my favourite author. The ocnvention stuff is just the icing on a very yummy cake.

(And yes - the magic roundabout and the one way system do get a mention.)

Tuesday, 14 October 2008

Barely about books at all. Or music.

Why do I never ever start my packing with plenty of time to spare? Why am I always rushing around like a blue arsed fly at the last minute? Why do I always forget to pack the books I intend to take with me and to update my ipod? Answers on a postcard................

Monday, 13 October 2008

Autumn Ayres

I see not my hinny..................


I think the key thing we have to concentrate on here is celebrating the fact that I got to the party at all, while ignoring the fact that I'm a year late.

I've always been partial to a bit of folk music - Sandy Denny is one of my all time favourite female singers, and I spent many happy days attending Jungr & Parker gigs in the 80s and early 90s. It's inevitable I'd have an interest in folk really - an Irish traveller heritage, flute and recorder player, singer.....yep, I tick a lot of the boxes. And yet - until fairly recently, although I played a lot of folk music, I was always more about the classical music and the jazz (mmmmmmm - Jazz. Love the lovely Jazz). Primarily because while I'm extremely partial to glum music (possibly more so than chirpy music. Actually - definitely more so than chirpy music) I like my music rich, and dense. Preferably with an overabundance of diminished 7ths, too. And, as it turns out mistakenly, I had a perception that a lot of vocal folk music, anyway, was characterised by bleak, very open chords. Sparse would have been one adjective I might have dredged up if asked to describe folk music.

Mea Culpa.

In recent months - thanks mainly to my dear friend Howie, I have been introduced to a variety of folk acts with which I wasn't previously familiar, principally the Waterson-Carthy mob and Bellowhead. I have also become very fond of Kate Rusby (we can give Jennifer Saunders the credit for that). And I love all of it. The album that has made me cross over from love to adore though is The Bairns, by Rachel Unthank and the Winterset, which came out, um.....last year. :o

And it is sublime.

A lot has (probably) been written about this record, because it was nominated for the Mercury prize. Bizarrely, it didn't win, something else did. The Bairns is the most beautifully constructed and performed record I have had the pleasure to listen to (on constant repeat in my ipod) for years. The vocal work is stunning - clear, tuneful, raw, full of emotion........a joy to listen to. Some of the songs (most of the songd) are desperately sad (even tragic) but despite that, the settings are in the main so lush, so tuneful and so vibrant that they are almost uplifting. It is particularly disconcerting listening to 'Felton Lonnin' and thinking 'I love this! I SO love this!' And getting that rush to the heart, and the soul, that a fabulous piece of music can give....and then remembering it is the song of a mother who has lost her child.................A similar thing happens for me with 'Blue Bleezing Blind Drunk' - a fabulous rollicking sing along number about....domestic abuse. Although actually of course its about surviving domestic abuse, and sticking two fingers up at the abuser (I'd still advocate getting the hell out of there rather than getting pissed, but anyway.........). not all the songs are sad - Blackbird is one of the most joyous and uplifting songs I have ever heard, and I love it to bits.

So - in a nutshell - what do I love about this record, and why do I so strongly recommend it to anyone who has a soul and an ear that isn't made of tin........

1. The vocals. I've not heard better singing in a long time.
2. The harmonies.
3. The lushness of the sound.
4. The fusion with jazz and classical styles to produce something which may not be unique (if it isn't please do point me in the direction of anything similar) but which certainly stands out as something extra special

The Bairns really is something very rare, and very wonderful. Give yourself a treat - get hold of a copy and listen.

Wednesday, 1 October 2008

Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey British Summertime

Why can't all books be like Paul Cornell's British Summertime?

Slightly wierd reading it, of course.....so many ideas taken from old doctor Who, so many concepts used by new Doctor Who (especially the circular timey wimey scripted conversation........). Should a book I'd never read before have felt so incredibly comfortable? Or is that just a sign it truly is a work of brilliance (well, when aimed at a 'me'-ish market, anyway? I'm pretty certain that it is indeed brilliant.

There is very little point in me recommending a book which has gushing quotes from RTD and Moff on the front page but.....I'll do it anyway. This is a superb book. The only thing wrong with it is the gratuitous sex with a timerift alien interlude - and I'm choosing to assume that the publishers made him out that bit in. Anyway, I doubt we'll see that bit turning up in Doctor Who any time soon. Which is probably for the best.

Monday, 29 September 2008

Ogre's Eyeballs

When I was 10 I fell truly madly deeply in love with the work of my favourite writer. And, while it's true I may have.....flirted.....with other writers since then, I have pretty much been faithful for the last 30 years.

I love Diana Wynne Jones's books - every singel one of them - with every fibre of my being. And this isn't a quiet passion - it's one I sing from the roof tops. I genuinely adore her work. The sheer inventiveness of her books - and the incredible longevity of her career - are amazing in themselves. She is also a lovely lovely person, which is obviously a bit of a bonus. I was lucky enough to meet her several times in the 80s, at conventions and literary events, and when I was in hospital in 1986 she was kind enough to send me signed first editions of all her then published works, just to cheer me up!! I mean - how lovely is that?I feel very lucky to have 'known' her.

DWJ has written shedloads of books, some of them astonishing, some of them merely very very good. My plan, for now (and it may of course change) is to write about my favourites first, one by one (or perhaps by series, where appropriate) and then maybe fill in the gaps down the line. This will take some time, but there you go. It's not like I have anything better to do!

The Ogre Downstairs is NOT my favourite DWJ book. It probably scrapes into the top 10, just, but that's about it. However it is the book that started it all, for me. Courtesy of Jackanory, as it happens. I must confess - a little embarrasedly - I thought that the Ogre really was a, you know, ogre, when I first read the book. I was little. I didn't know what metaphor was. I mean - this is a book where:
people fly
dustballs and meccano and pencils and dolls house dolls come to life
body swapping happens
people become invisible
hells angels sprout from the ground
the secret of invisibility is discovered

....so why wouldn't someone who was constantly referred to as an ogre be an actual ogre?????

TOD is a straightforward book, by DWJ's standards, about the modern family dynamic and how magical chemistry sets and a good sturdy bucket and mop can solve any problem. Its strengths are that it doesn't talk down to children at all - it's perfectly accessible for readers of all ages, it's genuinely funny, and it is written in a gorgeously relaxed and fluent style - nothing is forced, nothing is clunky. It totally blew my world away the first time I encountered it, and the repercussions are still going on to this day. I can't envisage a time when I don't reach for DWJs books on a regular basis. I can't see them ever being relegated from pride of place in my library. TOD started a lifelong love affair and there is no sign of it ending. Which is nice.

Thursday, 25 September 2008

What makes a good book?

Reading a good book is never a chore.

A good book never bores you into submission - sometimes it seduces you, sometimes it clubs you round the head and drags you off to its cave - but it never, ever, wins by default. You may well fall asleep while reading a good book - but that will be because your body is weak, while the book has the stamina of an Ox.

A good book doesn't have to tart itself up with a come hither cover (but, interestingly.....many do).

A good book will wrap you up like a duvet. It will soothe you like a hot bath. It might excite you, or tear at your heartstrings, or make your heart sing, or utterly destroy you (and then maybe rebuild you again).

A good book may restore your faith in human nature. It may restore you faith in love. Or faith.

A good book may make you laugh. Or forget yourself. Or understand yourself. Or remember who you are, or once were, or would like to be.

A good book will always leave you wanting more.

A good book will never ever be a waste of time.

A good book is everything.

Wednesday, 24 September 2008

Nation

Nation (Terry Pratchett's latest mega bestseller) made me laugh out loud 7 or 8 times, and cry real tears, accompanied by loud wracking sobs and rivers of snot, once. Sadly, I was on an aeroplane while all this happened so it was a bit embarrassing.

This is the best book TP has written since Thud. And probably in my all time top 5 of his books. It's charming, inventive, funny (see above), poignant (see also above) and above all, optimistic. I hesitate to recommend it to anyone who has recently undergone childbirth or who has small children (I ws utterly destroyed at one point, although I recovered eventually (obviously)) but anyone else who enjoys well written, thoughtful, inventive stories should score a copy as soon as possible.

Monday, 22 September 2008

The last amateurs - Mark de Rond

I'm not sure how recently this book was published, but I read it this week. I wasn't expecting much, to be honest........just a bit of undemanding sporting reportage with a happy ending (for the light blues. Who are always the goodies). I certainly wasn't exoecting it to be as involving as Dan Topolski's 'True Blue' - but, turns out I underestimated, big time.

It's a simple enough premis, one which has been used loads of times before in sporting books (most notably, for me, by Pete Davies in 'All Played Out', 'I lost my heart to the Belles' and 'Mad Dogs and English Women'):
1. Pick a team, any team
2. Follow them for a defined period of time, preferably one in which they are trying to win something special - a championship, a world cup, a historic race
3. Write about it in such a way that fans and oter interested parties can really feel like they were there, and understand what the sporting heros went through.....

It doesn't always work, but when done well (and Davies has used the same technique in books about politics and, um, the flu virus) I really enjoy this type of book. Undemanding? Well, yes. But uninteresting? Nope.

For me, the key thing about this book was observing Mark de Rond's transformation from outsider to - well, not team member, he was never that, obviously, but he was certainly well in the circle of trust from relatively early on - clearly the fact that he was present when the rowers were experiencing their lowest moments physically and mentally helped him to be accepted by the group - to the point that he became their facilitator and touchy-feely man. I wonder if this actually had an impact on how much he felt able to tell the reader - once inside the circle of trust, he was no longer an objective chronicler. Certainly despite the scope for sturm und drang around the issue of team selection and particularly the selection of the cox (the original first choice was unceremoniously dumped), there isn't much.....exposure. So, while it is very engaging, at the end, you haven't actually learned much. Still, I enjoyed it. Which is the main thing, from my perspective!

And as we're on the topic of books about sport:

1. The damned united
2. All played out
3. Gladys Protheroe: Football Genius
4. I lost my heart to the Belles
5. Mad Dogs and English Women
6. Heroes and Villains
7. Penguins stopped play

Saturday, 20 September 2008

Red Priest........

..........are very good. Check them out - especially:




Friday, 19 September 2008

A valuable addition to any library



You know you want to. It's calling to you.......'Read me! Read me!'

The owls are coming......................





............and they are going to eat you all up. Or, you know, not.


Poor old Sepulchrave. He loved his books more than anything.........certainly more than any living person. Perhaps not more than tradition, obviously......

I was first introduced to Mervyn Peake's Titus books (emphatically NOT a trilogy, apparently) just before Christmas 1983. And it is in fact absolutely impossible for me to talk about them without running round waving my hands in the air shouting (excitedly) I love these books! I really really love them!!! . Because, I do.

Peake was an artist and illustrator as well as a writer, and he brought a very visual sensibility to his writing. It's actually quite rare for me to appreciate this sort of thing (I'm sure it's not particularly rare as a phenomenon, although other proponents may be less successful than Peake) because I'm incredibly un-visual myself (as those who have met me and encountered my dress sense will testify). Peake's imagery, though, is mad as a box of frogs. Grotesque, larger than life, on the one hand, intricate, involving and tender on the other. Intriguing and infuriating in equal measure.

Every time I read the books, I see something new about the world of Gormenghast,and the characters who inhabit it. Sometimes I love Steerpike (after all, Sting and Robert Smith can't both be wrong, surely?) sometimes I'm rooting for Titus. Thus far I have never found it in me to like Gertrude - but, you know, maybe next time? She does like cats, I suppose........Irma Prunesquallor, initially a figure of fun to me, has become one of my favourite characters. Sepulchrave and his owls..........I have an owl tatoo on my shoulder. It's not very good, the tattoo artist was obviously not that great at his chosen trade - but it's my permanent tribute to Sepulchrave, and his fate...........What would I do if I lost all my books? Well, I wouldn't turn into an owl I'm pretty certain, but I can understand his desolation, and why he chose to isolate himself with his owls rather than remain in the life of the castle, once his whole reason for living, his only respite from the tyranny of tradition, had gone up in flames. And Fuschia.....poor poor little Fuschia. She played with fire and got burned just as surely as the books did. She never had a chance, locked up in that castle.

The BBC adaptation 8 years or so ago was a bit of a disappointment to me, if I'm honest. I preferred the radio version in 84 (or was it 85?). And not just because Sting was playing Steerpike - I think the visual imagery was just a bit....off. Whereas the radio version, strangely enough, was perfect ;) The realisations of Gondor, Helm's Deep and Moria in the Lord of the Rings films were actually closer to how I imagine Gormenghast than what the BBC came up with - but that's probably because Peter Jackson used Alan Lee for a lot of his design work, and my first copies of the Titus books were the Penguin versions with the Alan Lee covers.

I wanted to call our cats Prunesquallor and Barquentine, but I was overruled. I live with philistines.

Thursday, 18 September 2008

The girl that books built

I am who I am and what I am needs no excuses……………………yeah, I’m a fan of musical theatre too. But mainly what I am is a bookworm. That’s the adjective most frequently used to describe me in my old school reports certainly. Sometimes in a good way, sometimes less so. Anyway - it was true. And it still is today. This blog will mainly be about the books I read from this moment on, but with occasional diversions for remembrance of things past, and hardy perennials.

When I was 7 or 8, I moved from being keen on reading to being utterly obsessed with reading. There were three series of books responsible for this development:
The Narnia books
The Target Doctor Who books
The Chalet School series

The first two will doubtless be revisited sometime soon (I’ve got lots of trips coming up and lots of work to procrastinate in order to avoid, so I’d say it was inevitable, actually). Right here, right now, I’m going to talk about The Chalet School (and alienate anyone reading this, probably!).

The Chalet School series, by Elinor M Brent Dyer, consists of approximately 61 books (I’m writing this in the car while I wait for Beanie to finish her recorder and piano lesson., so I can’t check). The first book - The School at the Chalet - was published in the early 1930s, the last book - Prefects of The Chalet School - was published in the late 1960s.

The first book told the tale of a plucky young woman, Madge Bettany, and her school age sister, who had been orphaned and who had decided to set up a boarding school for young ladies in the Austrian Tyrol (as you do) for reasons which escape me now (actually, I think it was because Jo Bettany, the school age sister, was sickly and needed mountain air. TB hung like a black cloud of doom over all the books - much as it hung over the lives of swathes of people at the time the series began, before the discovery of an effective treatment). The first few books in the series had the theme of the school becoming established - we see time and time again the pride the pupils took in the number on the school’s roll growing term by term. For the first few books, the reader ‘knows’ all the pupils, and all the staff too. Madge marries, and starts a family. The head-ship passes to another original staff member, but Madge continues to be very involved in the school. Gradually, as the school grows, then eventually merges with another (the unfortunately named Saint Scholastica’s) this changes, and the books become more formulaic - the reader follws that term’s exploits of the main stars, and possibly some new girls (who are normally naughty but ultimately nice girls).

The series might have fallen into the Enid Blyton trap of just being about one or two girls and their progress up their school punctuated by jolly japes and midnight feasts, but it avoided that, probably because the focus was never just the girls. Jo was the main heroine, of course, but there was something even bigger than her - the school itself. In addition to the focus on the girls - and the careful interviewing of storylines from several ‘years’ within the school, each book also included the staff - over time many old-girls came back to teach, which was nice to see - and the TB Sanatorium which was closely linked with the school, mainly because it provided a nice source of marriageable men for the staff and pupils! ;) Madge’s growing family, and the families of other key characters are also usually involved. Eventually, we have a cast of - well, hundreds, if not thousands. The exotic setting also helped to raise this series above the run of the mill school books, and it provided a wonderful opportunity for the series when war broke out in Europe.

EMBD reflected what was going on in the real world, in her books. So, the Chalet School was affected by the anschluss. Several pupils and staff were caught up in a Christalnacht type incident in Salzburg. The school was forced to close, and relocate - and the main ’stars’ - Jo (who actually left school a couple of years earlier but hung around as you do when there are lots of nice unmarried doctors on your doorstep), her adopted little sister, some of her closest friends, and (Doctor) Jack Maynard, who was about to become her husband - are forced to effect a Von Trapp stylee escape over the mountains into neutral Switzerland. The school relocates first to Guernsey, then to Wales when it all goes tits up in the channel islands. It’s easy to dismiss the books set in the war as simplistic children’s books - but many of the events are very moving. From the start, the school had had a multi national (although predominantly European) membership. Several of the girls whom we had come to know and love died, as did many of their fathers and brothers. Some of them were real heros. Just typing this, and remembering who lives and who dies, I have tears in my eyes. I think the war books, and the immediate post war ones, were the highpoint of the series, truth be told. Over the years the stories did tend to recycle at bit and the stories became less original. There was also an undeniable snobbishness about some of the later volumes - but despite that, they retained a degree of charm. And it was always good to see an old favourite turn up as a teacher, or get married, or send her kids along to the school (which eventually relocated again to the Bernese Oberland. So much more exotic than Croydon, which was where I was when I was reading them).

So, why did I like them so much? Why do I credit them with turning me into the person I am today (sort of)? They introduced me to the delights of collecting. There are 61 of them - and they were almost all out of print in the mid - late 70s. I spent years scouring second hand book shops and jumble sales, searching for those elusive volumes. It was brilliant. My lifelong love of those sorts of places can be directly traced to the quest for the Chalet School.

My favourite things about the Chalet School books are:

1. Joey Maynard (nee Joey Bettany) had 11 children. 11. Herself. Out of her own bits. 11.
2. Madge had 7 children which is nearly as impressive
3. Almost everyone played a musical instrument
4. I learned lots of French and german vocab from the books at a time when I had no use for it. Thus it was knowledge for its own sake. Result!
5. The old fashioned attitudes were very comforting
6. Many of my copies are gorgeous old paperbacks with beautiful covers.
7. Through those pages I travelled extensively in middle Europe.
8. Some of the names were brilliantly bizarre.
9. Good always prevailed.
10. There is no number 10.

Why oh why oh why oh why?

Because I can.

Because everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it......

Because it might be a good discipline. I'm one of those people who is more than happy to yell 'I loooooove that' and run around, excitedly, possibly waving her hands in the air, when a favourite book is mentioned - but I'm not so good at the, you know, explaining why. I used to be good at that, when it mattered for exams and stuff like that. These days? Not so much. And it's lazy. I'm lazy. I have become lazy, anyway. I like the idea of having a record of what I read, why I read it, what I thought about it (and why) and what I want to read in the future. The same goes, possibly, for music (although not necessarily, we'll have to see about that). I like the possibility of talking with some of my friends about books - like we do anyway, in other places, but here instead (or as well) so we don't get distracted by the latest casting rumour or the footy scores.

It will probably be a flash in the pan. But who knows?

Tuesday, 16 September 2008

One cold wet night in Kiev....

....I decided to start a book blog. With a bit of music. And other stuff.


When I got home.....