The (Very Long) Preamble.

Inspired by the wonderfulness of Under The Dome, I decided to follow up with The Stand. Partly cos I vaguely remembered the TV version, more importantly I remembered thinking it was good despite having a typical Stephen King Devil stylee baddie, and partly because at the end of UTD there was a big 'if you liked that you'll love this' advert for The Stand. So - I took a chance.

Am I glad I did? Well - I don't think it was time wasted. I chomped through the book at a slightly lower pace than I took UTD certainly - couple of hundred pages tops a day, most days - but it was still a consistent and hefty progress. I just wouldn't have stuck with it if it didn't have......something. As with Under The Dome I kept a brief 'update' blog at http://faceofboe.tumblr.com as I read.

Things The Stand did have - tension, intrigue, readibility, some sympathetic characters, the 'oh fuck' factor and lots of scaryness.

Things The Stand didn't have - pace, logical narrative, enough sympathetic characters, a satisying resolution, humour. It also didn't have a sufficient focus on the actual, you know, Stand that was being made against the forces of evil in the form of Randall Flagg.

Had Stephen King called the book something like 'Survivors US style - scarier and more devilish' or 'The Plague and its Aftermath' or something like that it would have been a fairer representation of what the book was actually, you know, about. If we draw a veil over the fact that anyone who has seen survivors (either version) and is British has seen a better depiction of what a post plague society would probably be like here in the UK, we are still left with the problem of the stand itself. King spent so much time scaring the reader and the protagonists shitless over Flagg, that it seems very unsatisfying that the questers who make it to Vegas don't actually even get to make any sort of stand against him. Not that I wanted to read about Larry and Rslph being torn apart limb from limb obviously - but to have Flagg's power destroyed by Trashy and an A bomb after all that .......it just seems very flat.

I realise that maybe Stephen King's point was that just as for evil to flourish all it takes is for good men to do nothing, maybe for evil to be defeated all it takes is for them to do anything. If that was the case, then it wouldn't matter what they did so long as they set out for Vegas. They were prepared to do something, so that was all that matters? But I don't buy that. Trashy's actions were entirely independent of the people from the free zone. He did his thing because he was mad already. The seeds of Flagg's destruction were sown the minute he accepted Trashy into his society. And that had nothing to do with the acts of good men or women - it had nothing to do with the judge, or Dayna, or M-O-O-N spells Tom Cullen, or Glen or Ralph or Larry or Stu.

Ultimately, with a book that weighs in at over 1300 pages long, call me oldfashioned but I'd have thought a little more room could have been found in there to provide more focus on the actual, you know, Stand, rather than devoting so much time to the preamble. There's a limit to how much back story any narrative really needs. The Stand went way beyond that.

There were too many other loose ends, as well - what was going on with Leo/Joe? What was going on with the rest of the WORLD? Still - despite everything is was an enjoyable read. Just, you know, maybe 500 pages too long, and too broadly focussed. The Stand makes an interesting comparator for Under The Dome but I know which one I preferred.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

An Excellent Christmas Present

I don't even play the Bass that much. But as soon as I saw this one I just fell in love. And to be fair - it's hard to love a plastic Aulos or Yamaha bass. And it's easy to love a Pearwood Mollenhauer Bass. And I do - I love it to bits.

Strictly Disappointing. Again.

Every year it's the same. Except in 2006 when it was not the same. It was different. In a good way. But every other year (apart from 2006) since strictly started, the Wrong Person has won.

The particularly upsetting years for me were - well, actually, all of them. But if I had to pick the most outrageous travesties against justice and all that is right and good in the world, I'd go for 2005, when Zoe didn't win, and 2008 when Rachel was robbed.

And this year, to add to the role of shame, we have poor Ricky.

Once again, the whole family is gutted. Once again we are forced to confront the fact that apparently we are wildly out of step and sympathy with the Great British Public. We are outliers not in a good but in a bad way - excluded from vox populi. Again. And as in previous years, it's put a real downer on Xmas before it's properly begun.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Beginning of the End

Toby is Best

Just in case there was any doubt. This also just in:

Jack Rudolph can kill you with his thumbs
Captain Mental is, um, mental
Sawyer looks best without his shirt and is the hero (Jack is either the idiot or the baddie. You don't let kids die. You just don't)

Life In A Snowglobe

Stephen King's Under the Dome is the best book I've read in a very long time. What's that you say? Show my workings?

OK.

The book is massive. At 857 pages, in the hardback version, it weighs a ton. Yet, once I'd started reading it, I could not put it down. My arms, they wanted me to put it down. My back and shoulders wanted me to abandon it somewhere, preferably on the Eurostar. They certainly didn't want me carting it to Belgium and back, no way. My brain though, and my heart.........now, that's a different story.They would not let me put it down. I devoured it, I feasted on it, I ganneted it down in three sittings. Sitting one - 300 pages. Sitting two - 450 pages. sitting three, the rest. I really resented stopping reading on night two (at the 750 page mark) because the end was so close, the tension and the action had been ratcheted up well past the danger zone on the geiger counter and it seemed folly to stop - however as it was nearly 2am and I had to get up at 7am for an 8:30 meeting.......I really resented that meeting. I resented any time I spent away from the book, truth be told.And now it's finished I am utterly bereft.

It's come as a bit of a shock to me. I have never read any Stephen King before, although I did read and enjoy The Long Walk when I was a teenager, and I love the film of The Shawshank Redemption. But, you know, horror - not my bag. Not my bag at all. Demonic devil worshipping yukky horror? So not my bag. And that is what I have always assumed is the Stephen King territory. But Carlton Cuse and then the Zap2it Lost guy both recommended it online and opined that Lost fans would love it. So I took a chance. It was on special at Waterstones, the only downside appeared to be the massive heft of the book. And possible bad dreams. It was a Good Call. Under the Dome is not in any way a 'Horror' book. Horrible things happen, yes. Scary things. But they are caused by SPACE aliens and bad people, so I can cope with that. Well within my comfort zone.

There is certainly a tangible Losty vibe throughout the book, and the show gets two name-checks. Which is amusing. In this case, the people who are Lost aren't marooned on a mysterious island but rather marooned in their small Maine township by the sudden materialisation of a Dome - dome shaped, invisible physical barrier, which is impermeable (except, to a certain extent (not enough) by air, light and sound and which may be a forcefield or similar. Their peril comes secondarily from the physical effects of the Dome and of being cut off from the rest of the world, and primarily from the Big Cheese super criminal baddy who runs the town. Well, I say runs - that implies some sort of efficiency and effectiveness. Which isn't actually the case and leads to hundreds of deaths. The individual and group dynamics of the Dome dwellers, the poor people marooned in a Snowglobe which is more like a heat globe, really, are very reminiscent of the way things have developed with the Losties and The Others in Lost. The bravery and cowardice, the leadership and submission, the deviousness and desperation and the urgency of the need to just ESCAPE - it's all there. In a (very) good way.

Under the Dome is a tour de force of world building - to me, an English person, small town America is just as alien as Mars, yet King makes the locale, and the protagonists (who are numerous - to allow for the very very many deaths and still keep the A listers alive at the end) totally real, to me.There certainly is a very horrific element - Big Jim Rennie and his son, Junior, have a family sideline in serial killing (jointly and severally) and some of the deaths, both caused by them and by other incidents (Dome related or Rennie madness related) are very squicky. But mainly, they're just deaths. Only a few are actually upsetting for any reason other than that any death is upsetting. Hmmm. Only a few? Have I bought into a violent horror scenario completely and lost my perspective and sense of what = upsetting? Well....maybe. But I don't think so. Had the A listers died I would have been distraught. I was very upset at a couple of deaths near the final denouement but ultimately they weren't main cast. They were the equivalent of a guest feature buying the farm and to be honest, it was obvious their purpose in the narrative was to die.

Aside from Losty, the book has elements of The Poseidon Adventure (a film I'm not fond of), Die Hard (a film I adore), and countless Base Under Siege Doctor Who stories (although the aliens aren't in any way besieging the town - they are just watching the shenanigans for amusement. They can't really be blamed for The Evil the (some) Men Do when under pressure). It also reminded me very much of the Stanford Prison experiment - particularly once half the ne'er do wells and troubled youth of the town get deputised into the 'police force' (in reality big Jim Rennie's private army of thugs and rapists). The horror lies in the lengths people will go to to accrue power, and the lengths they will go to to preserve it, in the face of all sanity, not the squickyness of the deaths.

The Dome really is a superb book - what they used to call a Rattling Good Read. I wish very much that I hadn't already finished it - I don't want it to be done with. It is though. :( I think it will have some good re-read potential, in a year or so. But I'm not wild about waiting that long. Oh well. I'll try The Stand next - and count the days till Losty is back on our screens.

Hot! Hot! Hot!

Don't it always seem to go, that you don't know what you've got till it's gone........

In fact, I did always appreciate our combi boiler and the hot water that came gushing out of the taps whenever I wanted it. I grew up in a flat with a tiny hot water tank. Not enough for even one warm bath. So I've always apreciated unlimited hot water, oh yes. I have however been surprised by how bereft I have been since our boiler packed in 5 days ago. I'm the sort of person who likes a minimum of one scaldingly hot bath a day. In an ideal world I'd have two or three such events. The strain of foregoing any hot bath at all since last Thursday is incredible. And I'm here to tell you that a 'hot' shower (yeah, about as hot as a baboon with the squits) is no substitute for a proper hot bath.

With no end in sight to my enforced deprivation, I'm going to retreat into the comforting madness of gillworld and imagine my perfect bath......

Hot. Very very hot. So hot it hurts to get in - so you just take the burn off with a quick blast of cold then jump in before your skin has time to realise what's going on........ Now you're cooking. The perfect bath will ve full to the brim, and the bubbles (for there must be bubbles) will be provided by a Lush Anamanapondo bubble bar. To hand will be a nice cold can of diet coke, and a good book - perhaps Hexwood. The radio will be on, and Dizzy Gillespie will be playing. It will be dark outside, maybe windy or rainy. Or both. But the bath will be hot and soothing and it will provide a perfect sanctuary from the woes of the world.

Till the kids come in and start chucking bubbles at each other, obviously......


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

My Idea of Fun

I think Jazz and Folk will always be my favourite genres of music to play as well as to listen to - but one of the great benefits of being a recorder and flute player is the sheer breadth and depth and timespan of the performance repertoire. These guys are absolutely amazing. Listen and be awestruck.

Is it just me?

So, this was the first volume in a series, right? Maybe a four or five novel series? If the answer to those questions is 'bien sur' or similar (languages - few. I'm a late c20 Brit, what do you expect?) then Good. I'm pleased. If the answer is 'No' then not only will I be disappointed at the destruction of my hopes for future purchases, but also at the realisation that 'Transition', desite being entertaining and moderately inventive, was actually an ultimately shallow and meaningless diversion.

I really want a series. I want to explore the universe Banks has setbup, here. I want to find out if Mrs Mulverhill was right - is l'expedience a force for good or a force for evil? And what is it with her eyes? And how did Tem end up in the hospital? And how did he develop his extra special powers?

This book should have been three times as long. Minimum. The only excuse for cutting it off so abrubptly (frankly, in such a 'and with one bound' manner) would be if it's just the first volume in a long running series. I can't be the only person who feels this way, surely?


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Chichen Itza

Mayan. Not Aztec, not Inca. Pyramids!
























Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

It's An Ill Wind

Today, my flight from NY to Cancun was delayed by more than 6 hours. This was Not Good for all the obvious reasons. However, there was a definite silver lining - together with my colleague I took the opportunity to head back into Manhattan, to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

It was utterly magnificent. I wondered around in a state of dazed awe - I was practically in tears in the Monet rooms, the paintings were so gorgeous. I didn't want to leave (and I shouldn't have bothered since the flight was delayed further after we got back to JFK). The whole MMA interlude was absolutely perfect - an oasis of loveliness in an otherwise frustrating and depressing day.

And now for some pictures......

































- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

So good they named it twice

I love New York. I loved it when I worked here. I miss travelling here every month. It's lovely to be back if only overnight. The view from my hotel is spectacular - this crappy iPhone photo through glass doesn't do it justice, really......




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Fear of Flying

I don't enjoy flying. I don't enjoy being thousands of feet above the earth in sn aluminium death tube. I also don't enjoy the whole interminable process - it's such a faff. Packing is always a nightmare; travelling with a suitcase is difficult for a handy person let alone someone with dyspraxia. Hanging around at airports is like a preview of one of the seven circles of hell. Immigration, customs and security- three words to strike fear into even the stoutest of hearts.

I really wish they would hurry up and invent the teleport. You know it makes sense.




- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

The Unsympathetic and the Dead

Her Fearful Symmetry presents the reader with a pantheon of prisoners. Two sets of twins, all of them imprisoned by their relationships to and with each other. Imprisoned by secrets, lies, and mistakes from the past. Ghosts, imprisoned by the artificial limits placed on their ghostly forms- trapped inside the flat in which they lived as humans. A man, imprisoned by grief and later, guilt. Another man imprisoned by OCD and agrophobia in his flat - and further imprisoned by the OCD in a complex web of ritual and abasement. A wife, imprisoned emotionally by her husband's illness, even though she has escaped physically. And all the corpses rotting away in Highgate Cemetery, imprisoned in their graves, tombs and coffins.

And me. Imprisoned by a poor purchasing decision prompted by the wonderfulness of Niffenegger's previous book, and forced to read this shallow, nasty, poorly paced tale.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Appointment Telly.....

......There's quite a bit of it about at the moment. Sarah Jane Adventures. Strictly. Flash Forward. Wossy. The one that has really grabbed me by the throat and won't let go (as, to be fair, it does every year) is Spooks. A show that used to be all about the pace and the suspense and the frying tonight possibilities, which then became all about Rupert Penry Gorgeous is now most definitely all about Harry's sad yearning eyes. Which are sad. And yearning. In equal (impressive) measure. Harry knows where the bodies are buried (and, as it turns out, the uranium. But clearly not the gas). But he doesn't know how to tell Ruth he loooooooooooooves her. And women of a certain age all over the country just melt.

The thing about UST though is it does have to be resolved at some point within the window or it just becomes annoying. Look at Lost. Look at Sports Night. Look at Studio 60. Obviously The West Wing has one counter example in Josh and Donna but one example of how it can all go tits up if not handled properly in Toby and CJ. Let's hope that the writers of Spooks want Harry and Ruth to get some happiness before one of them (Ruth, inevitably) gets eviscerated. Or similar. I'm sure they will be as inventive as always.

Decline and Fall

Lustrum is probably the most enjoyable book I have read all year. I was predisposed to like it - the first volume in Robert Harris's trilogy, Imperium, made a long night in Tallinn pass almost bearably a few years ago. I'm not fond of Tallinn for various reasons, and for a novel to make any time spent there at all anything better than a living hell was a major achievement. So - Lustrum had significant goodwill with me before I started reading.

The goodwill was justified. Lustrum is an excellent read - I devoured it during two long rail journeys in one day. The pacing is fast and furious but never rushed. The characterisation is sharp and well crafted. It plays against some of the more recent populist characterisation - the 'Rome' television series in particular - but that's certainly not a problem. As the plot sped to it's denoument I was genuinely outraged at Ceasar's actions- despite having been totally 'on his side' when watching 'Rome'.

Lustrum - so named because it covers a full 'lustrum' ir five year period - opens at the start of Cicero's consular year - the peak of his political career (maybe). The five year period covered by the book charts Cicero's journey from Consul to exile ( an exile which is undeserved and engineered by his political and personal enemies). And it's utterly gripping.

Poor Cicero barely has any chance to enjoy his consular year, his moment of triumph - he is immediately embroiled in conspiracy, treason and threats - to his life and to the Republic itself. That the reader knows already how this will play out makes it all the more poignant and no less suspenseful. The consular year is eventful - and apparently highly successful, in that Cicero survives and foils the Catalina rebellion. But of course he fails to take down the eminence grise behind all the plotting and calculating - Ceasar. And he makes more enemies along the way - specifically Clodius Pulcher and Crassus. And he makes mistakes, after the consular year has ended. He borrows money. He may take bribes. He buys a swanky house. And he loses his grip on the events of the day. With far reaching consequences - none of them good (for him).

It's all desperately sad - but inexorable. Still - at the end of the book we know that events have a long way yet before the story plays out to its inevitable conclusion. The third volume in the trilogy can't come too soon for me.

-- Posted from my iPhone

Mostly Surprisingly Good, Actually!

And another thing...... The long awaited sixth volume of the Hitch Hikers Guide To The Galaxy trilogy, written not by Douglas Adams (obviously, yet still, after all this time to get used to it, bitingly sadly) but by Eoin Colfer of 'books I haven't read' fame, is that rare thing - a book which totally exceeds all expectations. Ok, my expectations were low - I wasn't wild about the previous two books in the trilogy (apart from the Rain God, I bloody loved him) and I didn't really like where the narrative had ended up. Let's be honest - I much prefered the radio stuff with the Lintillas and the wise old bird who sounded like Sergeant Wilson and the shoe event horizon. And since that didn't make it into the books I was pre disposed to be annoyed with them.

So, to recap - geeky fan girl but with a chip on her shoulder about something silly, and therefore low low expectations. The 'books I haven't read' thing was hardly a selling point, either. I do totally realise it says something about me and nothing whatsoever about anyone else.

Recent experience (see the blog post about Unseen Academicals) was also not providing good omens. Perhaps some series aren't too good to end. Perhaps Dr Who genuinely is the only thing that could and should go on forever.

Lowered expectations are clearly a Good Thing when it comes to book enjoyment. 'And another thing......' wasn't fabulous. It was no 'Life, the universe and everything.....'. There were no Paul McCartney running gags and no cricket allusions. There was no real baddy. There were no lines as memorable as all the ones we used to quote at school. No vogon poetry. No digital watches. Not a lot happened. There was no Marvin, Ford was reduced to a cypher and Agrajag didn't die at all.

And yet, and yet.......I really enjoyed it. I did. It felt comfortable, and it felt credible. I laughed out loud while reading it. I might actually start saying 'appease the cheese'. Possibly. I love Thor. And the shoe event horizon got an oblique mention. So- there's hope yet. There will surely be a sequel, and that is clearly an episode begging to be woven into the book narrative.

But, I'm sorry, Marvin absolutely has to return. Destroy Earth as many times as you want - but the android must live. Without him Arthur and his motley rag tag of friends, acquaintences and daughter are all just too damn cheerful!


-- Posted from my iPhone

Time No Longer.......

Tom's Midnight Garden was one of the first books which gripped my attention, slapped my brain around a bit and refused to ever ever let go.

I have very vivid memories of the first time I read it. I was in Mr Stevenson's class, in the second year juniors (what we call year 4 these days). I selected it as my book, from the library shelves, and sat down to do my ten minutes of reading. I didn't get up again for the rest of the day (I may have got up to visit the loo, I suppose. I definitely skipped lunch). Luckily for me, Mr Stevenson was a good teacher. He obviously realised there was no point in dragging me back to my desk.

I loved that book so much. From the vantage point of today it's obvious why - it hits the wibbly wobbly timey wimey target dead centre, with some force. I suppose that is one of the reasons I loved it - but not the main reason, I think.

I really identified with Tom. So lonely, so isolated, so desperate for a friend. I felt a bit like that, in the second year. Sadly, I couldn't cross the timelines and I never heard a grandfather clock striking 13.......such an evocative image, though. This was before The Deadly Assassin was broadcast, so I had no particular associations with grandfather clocks, but the imagery still resonated with me.

At heart it's a straightforward tale of time travel - Tom, a young boy staying with slightly reluctant (he assumes) and boring relatives because of qurantine, in a dingy flat, longs for a garden to play in and a friend to play with. Hey presto, a mysterious clock with the biblibal phrase Time No Longer inscribed on its face strikes 13 instead of 12 one night. When he investigates, Tom steps back in time 80 years or so, to the time when the building in which he is staying was a big house with a big garden.......inhabited by, among other people, a small girl, lonely, bullied, unwanted by her relatives and longing desperately for a friend to play with........Nobody but Hattie can see Tom. But who is real, and who is the ghost? And will time let them be or is it playing tricks on them.....

TMG is a beautiful little tale of loneliness, longing, friendship .......and the damage that time can inflict on relationships. Abandonment and loss are just as central to the book as anything else - but ultimately, friendship and love can transcend even time. I always cry when I reach the end of the book, and Tom and Hattie are reunited. I like a good cry, obviously - but it's a lovely moment.

Since I first read TMG I have re-read it many many times, seen the TV and film versions, and the stage adaptation - all of which I would recommend. But the book is, for me, the best iteration of the story. Every time I re-read it, for me also there is Time No Longer, and I'm a small girl again discovering how addictive and compulsive books can be - and reminding myself that there's more to wibbly wobbly than a blue box with dodgy windows.


-- Posted from my iPhone

Disappointed................

No, not the wonderful Electronic song of the same name - the way I felt after reading Unseen Academicals, the latest Discworld book from Terry Pratchett. It just didn't do it for me in the way most of the other books in the series have done(bar the witchy ones, until they joined up with the main narrative).

Vetinarii had some nice moments - but that was all they were - moments. Rincewind got a walk on part but really, why did TP bother? I think we are all over Rincewind now, and his absence isn't a running sore of sadness for those of us who loved him - but to bring him back to essentially a two minute cameo in which he is no more than a cipher - what was the point of that? Vimes got a name check, and Angua got one scene - again, frankly why did TP bother?

If this book proved anything (other than that TP doesn't really understand footy at all. It's come and have a go if you think you're hard enough. Not the other thing) it proved that the Wizards can't drive a Discworld story any more. Ridcully, Stibbons, the Librarian - as things stand, they have gone as far as they can go. If TP wants a book just about them, then fine, I'm sure it will be great - but to have them as the backdrop for yet more new characters....nah. That seam is all mined out. Whereas the Watch, I think, is still full of potential. Such a shame it was basically ignored for this outing. Especially as that sidelined Vetinarii. Vimes (and Moist, for that matter) are worthy ........contenders for Vetinarii. Ridcully, funny though he used to be, just isn't. Even though he can, one supposes, do magic.

It's such a shame. I've been a fan since the beginning. Well - since The Colour of Money was published in paperback, anyway. So, well more than twenty years. And I'm loyal, me. But......I was really looking forward to this book. And now, if I'm honest, I regret reading it. I regret bumping other books down the waiting list to make way for it. Because I don't think it was worth the effort.

Sometime, sometime soon, I'll remind myself why I love the Discworld. But today is definitely not that day. Today I'm ......disappointed.

A Thing of Beauty is a Joy Forever...

There are some songs that, the minute you hear them, you know you will love them all your life. And you know that your life will be better, forever, because you have heard them.



Now, me, I know from gloomy. Anyone who knows me knows that, if nothing else, about me. And sure, I love me some gloomy songs. But the songs that win a permanent place on the soundtrack of my life are always the joyful ones. The ones that make my heart sing. The ones that get me dancing round a grotty Berlin hotel room the minute I power them up on Last.fm or youtube or my ipod. The ones that make my soul explode with happiness, despite my prevailing mood. The ones that make the sun come out on even the blackest day. The ones that remind me why music is the only thing that can transcend any gloom, even my Olympic standard efforts. The ones which put a smile on my face anytime, anyplace, whenever I play them in my mind.

I'll be honest - this isn't an exclusive group here. My 'happy tunes' playlist has over 150 entries at the latest count. I don't care, I'm not ashamed. That moment when everything goes 'whoosh', the diminished chords kick in and the world is a happier, more hopeful place, will always be better than any drug for me.

This version of The Waters of March, by Akiko and Corinne Drewery is a perfect example. A world with this song in is a Good World.

The Elephant in the Room

Me? I'm saying nothing........



















-- Posted from my iPhone

The one where Sharpe sticks rigidly to a winning formula. And, you know, wins. Again.

Sharpe is clearly a Jaggaroth. Or similar. Finally, I've worked out what's going on. But let's hope the centuries that divide him aren't undone for a while yet. It's all being too much fun to come to an end.



According to the coming soon (but not yet!) board in my local Waterstones on Saturday, Bernard Cornwell's The Burning Land was expected to be available for sale on 1 October. Luckily for me, nobody told Amazon so I had already received my copy by then.

Yippee! As I've mentioned in previous blog posts- I'm a bit of a fan of Bernard Cornwell's books (even before I made my Jagaroth recognition breakthrough). Primarily because he sticks to a formula, and it's a formula that, with one caveat, I like. And I love Sharpe. Which is lucky, because he's always there, starring in every book, whatever name he's going under this time. If in fact he's not a jagaroth then there's something very odd going on.

This latest episode in the Alfred The Great themed saga (The Lords of the North series) presses all the right buttons. Two big battles - one at the start, one at the end. A new Big Bad - this time a Danish woman, Skald. A very very bad baddy. We know this because the first time we meet her she has just had someone skinned. Ouch. The Obadiah character, Father Asser, (strangely in the background in this series) does his usual bit of baddy manipulating. Sharpe (Uhtred of Bebbanburg) continues to nurse his feelings of righteous injustice while being a military marvel. Oh if only he had a rifle. But the shield wall will do. And at least swords have names. Rifles don't. Sharpe/Uhtred loses yet another wife. This is sad. To lose one wife/lover is unfortunate. To lose one almost every book.........careless. Or heartless on the part of Cornwell. The thing is - those deaths don't bother me any more. The tactic has been way, way overused. I invest precisely nothing in Sharpe/Uhtred's latest shag since I know she will be around for one book at most. That's the bit of the formula that I think has stopped working.

Other than that though - this latest book is, like all the others before it, what book reviewers call a rattling good read. Fast paced, engrossing, lots of highpoints and punch the air moments, a very good baddy, excellent supporting cast (the version of the chosen men we have in these books is very good - there's even a Harper analogue). My favouite supporting character, Ragnar, seems marked for death in the next book though. Which will be very sad, if my suspicions ate correct.

At the end of the book we have the familiar and reassuring Uhtred will campaign again. A nod to the notes at the end of the real Sharpe books. Or a clue to the true nature of our spaghetti headed hero?

The thing is - if this isn't all a convoluted romp through time and space.........much as I love the Alfred books, I want Sharpe. Proper Sharpe. With, you know, rifles. And green jackets. And Harper. And it very much looks as though that's what Cornwell really wants to be writing. I just wish he would, again.

-- Posted from my iPhone

Oobee doo............

I wanna be like you........



Actually, I don't just want to be like the Amsterdam Loeki Stardust Quartet (ALSQ) I actually want to actually be the actual them. Oh yes.

Even though they are all men of a certain age.

Their technique is fearsome. Their artistry is formidable. Their bravery and innovation is groundbreaking. I'm not a recorder player because of the ALSQ - I'm a recorder player because of the fickle (fast) finger of fate (and isn't it wonderful, sometimes, how that works out?). But the ALSQ have given me another reason to want to be a better player, and another reason to be glad of the opportunities I get to play now. And a reason to continue to aspire to be better.



And they do have a seriously cool name, also.

Happiness is a book, jazz, diet coke and free wifi

I love sitting in the @ExeterPictureHouse cafe. Especially when Dizzy Gillespie is playing on the stereo. A beautifully civilised experience - great for working (free wifi!) or enjoying a book. I always feel a little like Carrie Bradshaw when I work here - well, till I look in the mirror, anyway. The children are developing a taste for cafe society too!




-- Posted from my iPhone

Operation Golden Age

Invasion of the dinosaurs

The Greatest Star.........

Have you guessed yet,
Who's the best yet?
If you ain't I'll tell you one more time.
You bet your last dime
In all of the world so far
I'm the greatest, greatest star!

If I could only listen to one singer, singing one song, for the whole rest of my life, it would be Barbra singing 'Happy Days Are Here Again'.

I can't express in words how much Barbra means to me. I love her voice with every fibre of my being. I also think she is pretty amazing as a person and as an actress. But it's her voice that destroys me, transports me, remakes me, delights me, brings light to my darkness and joy to my sorrow........Nobody does it better. Nobody ever will. I fell in love with Barbra's voice when I was a child - maybe 7 or 8 years old. She more than anyone has provided the soundtrack to my life. She's the Greatest Star and I love her.

Love's Easy Tears

My mum used to tell me a story about her mum. And her. I suppose really, it was a story about her, rather than her mum. Although her mum was one of the key players in the story. Her mum and Bette Davis.


My mum told me many times how, the year that The Old Maid came out, her mum (who was a huge Bette Davis fan) took her to the cinema many times to see it. Many times. Matinee performances (my mum was about 8 at the time). And every time, without fail, her mum (my grandmother) would howl. Cry her eyes out. Not quietly, either. And my mum used to hate it, absolutely hate it. The way she told the story, she would beg and plead with her mother to not have to go to see the film yet again, because she knew it would be extremely embarrassing when her mum cried. Actually - I'm not sure if my mum's problem was embarrassment. Maybe it just upset her seeing her mum cry.

My mum's mum, my grandmother, died about 5 or 6 years later - when my mum was just 14. The story would always end in one of two ways - either my mum would look at me and my sister and laugh, and we'd talk about the films we fancied seeing - or she'd end it saying something like 'I'd give anything to go and see that film with my mum now. However much it cost me in tissues'.




The Old Maid was always one of my mum's favourite films throughout my childhood. We'd watch it together every time it was on BBC 2, and we'd both cry. But quietly, not noisily. I would be crying because of the film, and because my mum was sad, she'd be crying, I'm guessing, for her mum. And maybe for her lost youth which never really got started - the death of her mum saw to that.



When I was younger, I would obviously cry at the proper bits in films - you know, 'I have been, and always shall be, your friend' or that bit in The Sound of Music where the children are signing to the Baroness and Captain Von Trapp suddenly joins in, to general stunned silence (I'm tearing up now, thinking about it), or The Railway Ch.....damn. Well.....you know. Unless you have a heart made of bogies, you know.

These days though, I cry at everything. I don't just cry at the appropriate moments in The Sound of Music, I cry all the way through. Non stop. Same with many other films. Same with musicals. It's starting to annoy Beanie. We went to see The Sound of Music at the Millennium Centre in Cardiff last weekend - starring Connie, of How do you solve a Problem Like Maria fame. I started weeping the minute she appeared and I didn't stop for the whole show. At least I was crying silently. Bean was frankly disgusted. Not as disgusted as she was at me howling through the Donna Noble and Doomsday music at the Doctor Who prom last year though. One result of all this is that she is flatly refusing to go and see Les Miserables with me later on this year. Which is a shame. She'd love it. It's a wonderful wonderful musical. But I can't deny the fact that that is another one I howl all the way through. What can I say, I'm a woman of deep emotions. And faulty tear ducts.

Perhaps Bean doesn't understand because she's 11 and hasn't really had much to weep about yet. Thank God. Long may it stay that way.

Me, when I cry now I'm not just crying for Connie, or Maria, or Donna, or the poor dead Titanic people, or for Jenny Agutter, or Bette Davis, or Jean Valjean, or Fantine or Eponine. I'm crying for my mum, and for her mum. And for my dad who never got embarrassed about me weeping through things and who always watched Star Trek and Doctor Who with me (as did my mum of course). And I'm crying because one day, Bean will cry like me. And she'll have reason to. And I won't be there to dry her eyes.

Still, that having said - last night's trip to see The Time Traveler's Wife at our local Vue has given me slight pause. Several women there weren't crying silently as I do - they were howling like wolves! And keening. And sniffling. And making more noise than a teething infant. Which kind of ruined it for me - I found myself laughing through my (silent) tears. Which probably wasn't the effect the cast wanted to create when they were making the film.

So - I'm unlikely to dry my tears, I think that boat sailed when I had children. But I will endeavour to keep them silent and discreet.

Top ten weepy film TV and musical moments:

1. Daddy it's my daddy......
2. I have been, and always shall be, your friend
3. Captain Von Trapp sings 'I go to the Hills when my heart is lonely....'
4. The closing credits music of the latest Star Trek film
5. Donna having her mind wiped in Journey's End
6. The Doomsday music
7. The ending of Les Miserables when all the ghosts of the people who have died come back for one last number
8. The bit where Kate Winslett walks down the stairs in Titantic and finds everyone waiting for her
9. Maria joins in with 'My favourite things' as she returns to the children
10. The Old Maid

Literary Crack

One of the key themes of Stephen Donaldson's Gap series is addiction, or dependency. The main protagonists are variously addicted to, or dependent on:

drugs (medicinal, recreational, mechanical, biochemical, smoke it, inject it, ingest it, implant it, generate it in your own body, drink it , you name it one of them does it);
power (over others and self mastery);
Shame;
Revenge;
Duty;
Winning;
Risk;
Lots of other stuff.......all substitutes or metaphors for Self Destruct.

As it happens, the series as a whole (well, books 2-5) are the most addictive boks I have ever read. But ultimately rather than being destructive the experience of devouring them (the only way to read them - these are not 50 page a day books) is wholly positive and uplifting.

I don't know why I love these books, exactly. None of the protagonists is obviously likeable (apart from old Sixten Vertigus who is a sweetie) but actually, in a way they all are. Even though Donaldson goes out of his way to make them all flawed, all dirty, all potentially 'baddies'. Even Morn Hyland who starts out as a total victim with a life that turns into an exploitation film isn't really that person - the real story is something darker, more complex, nastier, but ultimately a Better Answer than self destruct, exploitation, victimhood and abuse. I guess that's why I love the characters so - especially Angus and Nick despite the things they do. None of them could be described as straightforward. Or, for that mater, boring. Are they 'real'? I bloody hope not. But they live for me, when I'm in their world. And every single one of them undergoes a logical development throughout the series. I certainly believe in them on their own terms.

Ultimately most of the protagonists find redemption - better answers than the particular form of self destruct they started out with. That's one reason why it's addictive - apart from the sheer rollickingness of the plot, and the grim grimmer grimmest nature of the various predicaments our anti-heroes encounter as the stakes get ever higher - they do find that better answer.

I'm absolutely convinced the books would make a marvellous film - it would obviously last many days but it would be great so who would mind?! Maybe though BSG has now cornered the whole 'It's grim in space' vibe. Maybe they took some notes from the Gap books, too. Because while it's grim in space, sometimes, just sometimes, it can be just a little bit glorious, a little bit magnificent, too. When people make choices and live with the consequences and strive to find that Better Answer which is somewhere inside us all.

Fastest finger first

I'm currently spending a lot of time practising the Vivaldi Flautino (sopranino) Concerto in C major. Not entirely sure why - well, Andrew tells me to obviously but I don't know why. He did mention the possibility of playing it with ERO but that would never happen for oh so many reasons. Not least of which I wouldn't do it. But also I wouldn't be asked. Lucky escape all round, I say.

Still, I'm putting in the hours since I have the time right now it being summer. It's a beautiful piece. Sadly it's so iconic it's difficult to even attempt it without being assaulted by the ghosts of all the recordings and performances I have ever heard of the piece - all of which are faster than me. And just generally better. But I'm continuing to work because this is why I played in the first place, this was how I wanted to spend my life and luckily for me I still get the chance to noodle around as an amateur, with a great teacher, a decent group and a good orchestra to play with.

There are loads of recordings on the various music services but this one on the tube of you has a nice picture too....

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-V87Vuc0Dbw

The best chips in the world.....

.....Can be found here: http://www.porthgwiddencafe.co.uk/restaurant-stives-porthgwidden.htm

Filmic music

Not sure filmic is actually a word. But if it isn't it should be.

I love soundtracks. Some of my favourite orchestral music is from film or tv soundtracks. I think that the most interesting contemporary composers are working in soundtracks and have been doing so for some time. There is possibly a problem with width over quality in some cases - lets face it, not all Hans Zimmer's work is as good as his Gladiator or Pirates soundtracks, for example. But generally speaking, composers like Zimmer, Clint Mansell, Murray Gold, Michael Giacchino and Bear Grylls are doing some astounding work. When you add in long established names like Howard Shore and John Williams .... It's almost an embarrassment of riches.


My own favourite film and TV soundtracks:

1. Once upon a time in the west - Morricone
2. Doctor Who- Gold
3. Requiem for a dream - Mansell
4. Pirates 1-3 - Zimmer
5. Lord of the rings trilogy - Howard Shore
6. Schindlers list - Williams
7. Lost 1-5 - Giacchino
8. Star trek - Giacchino
9. Battlestar Galactica -Bear Grylls
10. Star Wars V The empire strikes back - Williams

My favourite bookshop in the whole world

http://www.stives-bookseller.co.uk/

Fabulous shop.

The best view in the world

Branded

So. This sentance I read earlier in the week, in either the Times or the Grauniad has stuck in my mind. Rather longer, it has to be said, than the article in which it was included. I can't remember what the article was actually about (it wasn't about brands per se) but this sentance has been like a brain worm ever since I read it........ What brands speak for you?


Well. That's a good question. Of course in a very real sense no brand speaks for me. Not my political party (the one with the rose) or my professional association (the one with economia) nor my team (the one with Chas&Dave and the first victory for an English club in Europe and the first modern day double). But there are brands I associate with strongly and which others may associate with me. And they aren't necessarily the same as 10 years ago. Or even 5 years ago. Have I changed? Or have they? What does my changing taste say about ms - equally, what do my loyalties say about me? For now, I'm going to note 'my' current brands. And as and when they change, I'm going to try and understand why.

Diet Coke - longstanding. Unlikey to change ever.

The BBC - will never change. I love the BBC - but sub brands within the beeb are in flux. R5 is no longer my favourite radio station. I actively dislike it a lot of the time right now. I haven't dumped it but we are in a dysfunctional relationship. BBC 4 is becoming as important to me as BBC 1. Iplayer is a big part of my life now.

Doctor who - it's always been a brand, really. And my relationship with DW has lasted since I was 2. Basically, we're hitched till death.

Sainsburys - another dysfunctional relationship. I'd rather shop at waitrose. And I suspect Sainsburys wish I spent more money on other stuff with higher margins. Like booze. But we carry on as we are till something beter comes along. I definitely dong think Sainsburys speaks for me - but better them than the local alternatives.

Apple - this is new. Until recently although I had iPods everything else was pc based. Then we bought a mac mini and that was it, for me. Macs all the way now, baby! I was never happy with Microsoft as a brand and I never saw myself as a typical Microsoft person. So I guess I feel the apple/mac brands fit better with the sort of person I am or I believe myself to be.

Moeck and Kung - moeck make the recorders I play. Kung make the bass I would like to play if only I could afford to buy one ( note despite playing an aulos bass I do not associate myself with the brand)

Lush - fashion? Maybe. I just like the smells.

Frizz-Ease serum. The one beauty product I cannot live without.

Marmite - another whole of life association. The food of God.

The guardian - this one is on rocky ground. I hate the way GMG consistently stacks the BBC. I'd chuck the paper in an instant if there was an acceptable alternative. There isn't.

Penguin books - love the classic orange spines.

Roxy, White Stuff, Seasalt - the clothes I wear. Now. I still wear plenty of legacy Next but I don't see myself as a Next shopper any more. Is it my age? Or the fact that I associate those brands with Cornwall which is where I always am in heart and mind if not in body.

Nike - the only gym wear. The Agassi connection neutralised the Arse one which is a relief. Can't see myself swapping to another brand for gym gear.

The church - the biggest brand in the world. Again, I can't see myself jacking it in. It's a genuine family in the way that other organisations just aren't.

Clouds at Sennen

More surfing

After all that angst we had a lovely time. Perfect conditions, perfect weather

Surfing

I love surfing. Absolutely love it. However, I can't stand getting into the sea at the start and then the whole wet cold sandy aftermath. Makes it all much more of a chore than it otherwise could be. The cost benefit calculation is not straightforward.

Outside the room

Nobody ever told me how much of parenting consists of just sitting outside stuff. As I write this, on my iPhone, I'm sitting outside child#3's ballet class. I'm not complaining -at least here I get to sit in a proper parents' area with chairs and everything. Thursday night's sitting outside venue was Child#1's recorder and piano lesson and there my sitting outside is performed in the car. Fine in summer, not so good in winter when it is dark and cold. The best sitting outside gig in the family is of course sitting outside Stage by Stage, where Child#2 and Child#3 go on different days of the week. This is because the sitting outside takes place in the picturehouse coffe bar across the road. Hubby normally gets those gigs though- I find the car park intimidating and difficult to negotiate.

In a way sitting outside can be quite zen- sometimes I get work done. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I twitter. Me time (only not so 'me' as time in the gym or in the bath obviously). But I do wonder- is all this sitting outside a metaphor for parenthood generally? There's very little sitting outside with babies. We tend to be included in their social activities due to their inability to communicate or move independently. As they get older though we get progressively excluded. Right now I sit outside their schooling and activities- give it a few years and I'll be sitting outside their *lives* lookinging in, wistfully. That's the nature of the gig of course.

Right. Where were we?

I cannot tell a lie. I've been a little bit pants about keeping this up to date, really. Must do better. Thing is - pretty much all the stuff I'm interested in, other people already talk about at majestic length - and do it oh so much better than I ever could. I'm thinking of Frank primarily, of course - but there are many other blogs out there devoted to the things I am the most interested in (apart from my children obviously and I'm certainly not about to blog about them. Perish the thought). And their authors spend actual, you know, time and effort on what they do. Whereas I have neither time nor effort to spare and frankly I am somewhat lacking in the talent department too, so, you know.......


I'm going to keep burbling and/or wittering on aimlessly but don't anyone be under any illusion that there won't be rather better written and more entertaining places to find comments on the same subjects. Because undoubtedly - there will. Dommage!

What's been happening while I haven't been blogging? I've done lots of work. I've been to some places for work, and Sennen Cove for holiday:



While on holiday, we visited the Doctor Who Experience at Land's End, which was good value as always:
One word of warning on this, though.....when you leave the exhibition now, you exit to the strains of the Doomsday music. So, if you're like me, you have tears in your eyes as you step outside. Still - it could be more embarrassing. If they had used The Rueful fate of Donna Noble I'd have been howling as we left, rather than just sobbing quietly and unobtrusively in a dignified manner. I recently made a spectacle of myself on a FGW train to London (the sparrowfart express) due to ill advisedly listening to it on my ipod. One of my favourite pieces of music of all time - but incredibly dangerous. Handle with care. I'm just sayin'.

I've read loads of books, listened to and played lots of music (several gigs) watched lots of Dr Who, Lost and 24, and generally done lots of STUFF. So, plenty to write about, then. And hopefully, I will. That's the plan, anyway. More books, more music, more stuff.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..........

My one true love is Doctor Who. Always has been, always will be. Like Jack, I have genuinely never doubted the Doctor, nor never will I. They had me at hello, really - in my case, hello was episode one of Spearhead from Space. And that was that.

And I have always been faithful.

But there have been.....flirtations with other shows. I can't deny it. Blake's 7, Hill Street Blues, The West Wing, Studio 60 and Deep Space 9 have all captured my heart too - HSB and DS9 especially, each having held undisputed 'number 2' position for the duration of their runs on the telly box. And DS9 is still pretty close, thanks to a complete rewatch last year with the children. But one show has overtaken all the other runners and riders and become the closest challenger, in the history of me, to Doctor Who. At a time when my devotion to Doctor Who is pretty much as high as it's ever been.

Lost (of course, was there ever any doubt?) is a masterpiece. It is quite simply the most ambitious show - apart from Doctor Who - I have ever seen. Its scope is huge. Its potential - which is most certainly being realised - is immense. The paybacks are spot on and the plot is so strong, so intricate, that they just keep on giving. And, on top of all that - it is genuinely funny. And touching. And scary (well - OK, not so much. Despite all the death. But I don't actually go for scary, much, so I'm delighted about that). The best thing about it (well, OK, the second best thing. ) is that it demands the viewers' full attention. You can't just switch off half your brain and veg out while watching it. You have to (shock horror) concentrate. And remember stuff that maybe happened 4 years ago. Complete (up to now) rewatches every close season are a must. You have to join the dots yourself - no spoon feeding here. I mean - it's not Dostoevsky. It's not Shakespeare. But....it's more than a bit David Mitchell. It's a little bit Escher. It's a lot Dizzy.

Lost isn't Doctor Who. It's Losty. And that, my friends, is (almost) as Good as it Gets.

(Shirtless. Obviously. I'm still me.)

The one where Richard Sharpe has a close brush with the black death, finds the grail, loses it, finds it again, loses it again, and repeat......

The Bernard Cornwell Love-Fest continues - in my world, at least.

Cornwell's Grail Quest series comprises three novels :

• Harlequin
• Vagabond
• Heretic

In this series, should it ever be filmed, once again Sean Bean won't be playing the Sharpe character as, once again, the Sharpe Character - Thomas of Hookton - is about 20 years old. And not from Sheffield although I'm sure that alone wouldn't be a barrier to Bean playing yet another character who seems to be Richard Sharpe in all but name. And, OK age.

The Grail Quest books are set at the outset of the 100 years war (and thus form a nice bookend to accompany Azincourt) and several real life battles are recounted, as Thomas participates in them - most famously Cressy. And we win! Always. Because that's how these things work. And to be fair, that is what history tells us so it's not like Cornwell is trying to, you know, create a parallel world - the brave English Archers really were the best, most lethal and most successful fighting force of the time. Also, brave, noble, potty-mouthed........you get the picture.

The McGuffin of the books is, not surprisingly given the series title, the Holy Grail. Of Monty Python, Indiana Jones and the Bible fame. I actually guessed the final denouement (as those who read my Tweets will confirm) about 20 pages in (or less). Did that ruin the series for me? Not one tiny weeny bit. The conceit is actually rather original for Cornwell books - a bit off piste from the normal forumla - but it works very well so I didn't mind the variation from the norm.

Thomas, bastard son of a formerly heretic (and occasionally mad) French priest, born and borought up in a small Dorest seaside village, and desperate to be an Archer, has his life turned upside down when his village is attacked and destroyed by a mercenary French raiding party. His father is murdered by the mercenaries' employer, his mother by the mercenaries' leader. He vows revenge and joins the Kings forces as the easiest way to both get to France to pursue his revenge and at the same time follow his vocation as an Archer.

Much slaughter ensues, plus the usual components of a Cornwell saga - 3 women over the space of 3 books, the gaining of a soldiering family and then the gradual destruction of that family through the inevitability of war. The religious and faith elements are new, and work well. The questions of whether the quest for the grail is real or a chimera, who should have the grail 'win' and what they should do with it, are central to the narrative. As are themes of vengeance, forgiveness, ambition, love, loyalty, faith and superstition. These books see a cast of characters whose loyalties shift - there are few totally 'black or white' characters - there are several characters who have an element of Hakeswill lite about them but none who really fit the bill - the chief villain, Thomas's cousin Guy, is....complex. Certainly no panto villain like Hakeswill. There are other villains who are more panto-esque but none has that big a role in the narrative or lasts that long. Thomas's little soldier family, consisting primarily of the leader of his fighting troop will Skeet, Sir Guillaime D'Evoque, the leader of the mercenaries that destroy Hookton (only one example of shifting loyalties) and Robbie, son of a Scottish Lord (another whose loyalties are tested and found wanting), is certainly not as tight as Sharpe's chosen men, and nor is it as important to Thomas's well being or his ultimate survival.

The way in which the grail quest is handled and resolved (even though I guessed it from the start) is addressed very well, as is the arrival and impact of the Black Death. I finished the third book desperate for the saga to continue.

Bernard Cornwell continues to do no wrong in my eyes!

Legs eleven...........

Actually, I know little about his legs.

He's not who I would have chosen. He's not who I was expecting. But his hair looks great and he has a big nose (a sine qua non for the part) and I'm sure he is going to be great. Moffat knows what he is doing. And Matt Smith is going to be........fantastic.

How many children, exactly?

One of my absolute favourite 'childrens'' series is the books about the Marlow family, written by Antonia Forest. The series comprises 10 books, published between 1948 and 1982:

• Autumn Term
• The Marlows and the Traitor
• Falconer's Lure
• End of Term
• Peter's Room
• The Thuggery Affair
• The Ready Made Family
• The Cricket Term
• The Attic Term
• Run Away Home

The Marlow family was, by any standards, large. There were two sons and six daughters. So, that's eight children in all ................yep, eight. Yet Mrs Marlow, never a main chacter but often peripherally involved (usually wheeled in to either express exasperation at the lunacy of her offspring or to bewail the state of the family finances) appears to be neither mad nor it has to be said particularly maternal. Eight children. Really. Eight.

The main players in all the books are the twins, Nicola and Lawrie, who are the youngest of the brood. Nicola is the star (main POV character) of all but one of the books, the exception being The Thuggery Affair - but Lawrie generally has a big (although less sympathetic ) role. The other siblings - Giles, Kay, Rowan, Ann, Ginty and Peter take roles of varying importance throughout the series.

One thing the Marlow books is not is simply a school series. For a start, only four of the books are actually set in term time, in the school attended by most of the girls (although increasingly few as the series goes on - drop like flies they do. None of them dies but stuff happens. Blimey does stuff happen.) The first book, Autumn Term, is for the most part a straightforward (although superior) boarding school tale, in which we follow Nick and Lawrie as they go away to school with their sisters for the first time - but thereafter the books go way off piste (for traditional school stories).

Among the topics examined in the series are:
Faith
Artistic giftedness (is that even aword? Well, anyway)
Teen death
Adult death
Drugs
Gang culture
Teen romance
Exam cheating
Vatican II (seriously)
The Gondal writings of Emily Bronte
Mental illness
Superstition
Falconry
Financial woes
Wartime treachery
Divorce
Blended families

I fell in love with the Marlows when I was 10 - possibly a little bit young (at the time)for some of the themes but nevermind eh. It took me years to complete the set, anyway, although thanks to the lending library system in Croydon and Cambridge I was able to read them all before I managed to score my own copies. The most elusive volume, for me, was Falconer's Lure - naturally my favourite of the series (well, duh!). I finally managed to find a copy of that in the late 90s - just before Girls Gone By publising re-issued it themselves. But actually, I don't mind about that, I'm glad I own a real first edition.

I'm going to blog about each Marlow book individually (oh joy) . Something to look forward to, eh? ;)