Bookwitch

Iorek Byrnison, that’s what (who). The imminent (sort of) film of Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials seems to cause all kinds of “free” merchandise to appear. Daughter’s Shreddies provided us with three copies of a book about Lyra’s meeting with Iorek, a favourite with witches other than Philip’s.

It’s not bad, as these things go. Fairly far removed from HDM, but us cynics expect that. Nicely written and would at least tempt me to see the film, if I didn’t already want to do so. It also gives a taster of how things have changed in the film, which again is only to be expected. I hope this freebie will find a whole new fan base for HDM and Pullman books in general.

This witch is off to Oxford, again, with the nerdy Son in tow. We have tickets for Philip’s fundraising event for the Pegasus theatre. Will let you know how it goes.

If you want to know how far it is between Stirling and London’s King’s Cross, I can tell you it’s the right distance to read Michael Morpurgo’s War Horse, twice. I know this, because it’s what Daughter and I did, en route for the National Theatre and its stage production of War Horse.

It’s weird how things come full circle sometimes. Before the play Michael did a platform performance, talking about War Horse the book. This involved not winning the Whitbread and being comforted by Ted Hughes. Ted Hughes used to own the house where I went on my course last month, where I met Michael’s granddaughter. It was she who talked so enthusiastically about the horse puppets used by the National Theatre, that I reversed an earlier decision not to go and see it.

I think Morpurgo books ought to come with a built-in hanky. I could have used one between Newcastle and York yesterday. I’m tempted to agree with Mrs Morpurgo, that War Horse is Michael’s best book. And if not, it’s right up there at the top. (My) Daughter liked it too, but didn’t cry. She saved her tears for the theatre, which left the witch dry-eyed. So we clearly react differently.

Michael’s platform was one of the best author events I’ve seen. The man’s a natural, and he pitched his story so perfectly you almost wouldn’t notice what he was doing. Daughter relaxed instantly, after the mad dash across London, and the search for food. The Q & A session went so well Michael almost forgot to finish.

We’d worried about not having enough time between platform and play for the book signing. Luck, and years of practice, put us almost at the front of the very long queue. It made up for having had to gobble our pizza slices double quick, when it turned out the NT’s café opened rather late, and then the pizza stuck to the oven tray and wouldn’t budge.

War Horse is a fantastic production. Never mind the plot; you could go for the horse puppets alone. I’ve never seen anything like it. Michael had talked to both Philip Pullman and Jamila Gavin about the experience of having your book turned into a play by the National Theatre. All three of them seem to think books are in safe hands there. So do I, and I’d like to know what can possibly come after War Horse.

Even if Adele Geras hadn’t so carelessly asked me to write about what I got up to yesterday, I would have bored you with it. Truth is, I’m so tired I can’t think of other things. It was a day of culture and fun. Not that culture can’t be fun, but you know, the less “worthy” stuff.

I have seen the crack. The Tate Modern crack. It was quite good, and no, I can’t work out how they did it either. Took a sledgehammer to the floor? Funniest sight, of course, are all the visitors slowly walking along, staring down at the floor and even filming it with their mobiles.

I returned to the Cottesloe after an absence of nearly thirty years, to see Victoria Benedictsson’s The Enchantment. Very good. I do so like an unhappy ending. (No, I don’t, but it was good anyway.) As a teenager I was very taken with this Swedish author, who like her heroine committed suicide. I’ve done some detective work this morning and come to the conclusion the play is called Den Bergtagna in the original. One of the nice things with the National Theatre is that you don’t necessarily have one actor playing four different characters. And they are always good actors, even when their names mean nothing to me.

Too much culture can be, well, too much, so I moved swiftly on to some shopping. The Resident IT Consultant will be surprised to hear I didn’t buy any shoes. I bought cheese at Neal’s Yard to bribe Daughter with on my return home. This meant I had my own Three Men in a Boat moment on the train home. My bag stank. In the nicest possible way, naturally.

Dinner at the Masala Zone after only ten minutes of queueing to get in. I find it rather reassuring to have a new food establishment to eat in that is situated in my old haunt Cranks, in Marshall Street. I virtually lived at Cranks in the olden days. The Masala Zone offers not only really good Indian food, but some charming staff. Hadn’t the heart to tell the nice young man last night that it wasn’t my first Thali and no instructions were necessary.

I finished another Cathy Hopkins Zodiac Girl (Recipe for Rebellion), which was fun as usual. Though possibly Cathy needs to sort out her ideas of half term holidays and nit nurses. Or that could be a message to the editor; it’s your job not to have half term at the end of November. On the other hand, a book that has Gods all over the place could possibly be allowed to have school holidays at funny times, too. Correct me if I’m wrong, but whereas I’ve seen plenty of nits, I have never come across a nit nurse in this century.

Before falling asleep on the last train north I started another Sara Paretsky. And all the witch’s activities meant she completely missed the Doris Lessing announcement.

We suspect that maybe Shakespeare got it slightly wrong. It could well be that Kronborg in Elsinore isn’t the place at all.

If so, it’s quite likely that what Hamlet called home was really Varbergs Fästning; currently in Sweden, but formerly part of Denmark.

Varberg is very nice, and the castle particularly so. When you’re done with the beach just south of the castle, where you don’t wear swimsuits, you can relax at the castle’s terrace café. The view is wonderful and any waffles or prawn sandwiches you manage to eat before the seagulls get them, tend to be very good too.

Well, we sort of waved to Hamlet today as we came past. Or would have done had he been real and not too long ago and all that. We went over to Denmark today, but not for very literary reasons. The Resident IT Consultant felt it was time he and Daughter visited Louisiana. The art gallery, not the state.

Louisiana is a great place. Good art, good food, beautiful park, interesting building. Expensive. The drive along the sea between Elsinore and Copenhagen is lined with the most wonderful houses, so the witch started dreaming again. Daughter pointed out she has no intention of learning Danish. Well, she didn’t put it as politely as that.

We admired the view of Elsinore castle all the way across on the ferry. Though with five ferries every hour in each direction, there is barely space for anything to be seen apart from boats. The ferry brought back memories for the witch, who entertained Daughter with seemingly not previously told stories of her life at sea. Hah, she even thought I made it up. And who would have thought that someone prone to seasickness would pick a job at sea?

And the castle at Elsinore wasn’t really where Hamlet lived. Shakespeare got it wrong. These things happen.

Some years ago I saw Friend’s two teenage daughters set off for Milton Keynes to meet Hobbits. They spent a whole day in the town’s shopping mall queueing to meet the actors from the Lord of the Ring films. They loved it. I never quite worked out why it happened in Milton Keynes.

On Saturday Daughter and I set foot (or would that be feet?) in Milton Keynes for the very first time. We only stayed for six minutes, but that was long enough for us to find one History Boy, aka Jim Taylor, good friend of Philip Pullman’s Sally Lockhart. Sadly, the Silverlink train doors closed on his suitcase as he talked on his mobile, so he missed the train.

Milton Keynes has a lot to recommend it, it seems. Literary actors all over the place.

It was great. You can never be sure how a really good book will translate to the stage, or how much will have to be left out. Starseeker is my favourite Tim Bowler book and I wouldn’t have taken kindly to too much messing with it. Miraculously Phil Porter appears to have left nothing of note out. So, it was a play as good as the book.

Considering the importance of the piano playing throughout the story, it was wonderful to hear good music actually played on stage by the actor playing Luke.

The five actors taking on all the parts did a very good job. And the set was excellent, with imaginative use of space for so many different settings.

Tim was there, with most of his extended family and plenty of friends. It was good to see him again and nice to meet all the others. And as an added bonus I found Costa winner Linda Newbery had also come. So that’s two extremely good authors for the price of one play.

The theatre was wonderful, with the old traditional auditorium and the newly built extension allowing plenty of space for bars and socialising. Northampton turned out to be a pleasant town, but maybe it could be London next for Starseeker? Or at least Manchester.

For anyone within travelling distance of Northampton I would suggest a visit to the Royal and Derngate Theatre. Tim Bowler’s very best book (well, I think so) Starseeker has been adapted for the stage, and it’s on from 22nd June until 7th July. Details on Tim’s website.

Tim says he’s very happy with how it’s being done and believes it’s going to be good. Tim will be there on the first night, and also on the 30th June and 2nd July. So if you want to meet the man himself, you know what to do.

June is a busy month for Tim, with several books out. Frozen Fire comes in paperback (though I don’t know how anyone could have waited that long), and Midget and Dragon’s Rock are re-issued as a double paperback, and so is Shadows. As noted here earlier, Midget is recommended for anyone looking for an upsetting read.