Category Archives: Books

The other bookshop

Waterstones had been expecting me.

No, not really. But they might have. I was right; there were far more normal customers in this shop, browsing in a normal fashion.

Even I tried to behave normal.

As I slowly shuffled down to the children’s end, I was overtaken by a mother with a boy, perhaps three or a small four?

I was terribly disappointed when they passed me going the other way, both by how brief a time they’d spent and by the book the mother was clutching. Upside down, but I could easily tell it was by DW. ‘So, not for the boy himself,’ I thought.

Except, when I shared what I’d seen with Daughter, she had witnessed the other half of what was going on. The boy clutched £5 from Granny. He didn’t want to be in a bookshop. He didn’t want a book.

Sad, but ultimately fine.

The mother wanted him to want a book. The problem is you don’t get much for a fiver. I don’t think she knew this before forcing him into the wrong shop in which to spend Granny’s gift. Basically, they ended up with DW because of the price – is he really that cheap? – and because he’s in such plentiful supply you can’t but help see those books wherever you turn. And everyone’s heard of him.

That is not a recommendation.

But whatever else you think about this unwilling spend on a book, and the type of book the boy got, there is one more wrong thing here. He’s too young for DW.

He will end up even less keen on reading, having spent his fortune on the wrong book.

Resting on a bench outside Waterstones I pondered two things. Is it ever all right to tell someone they should leave DW’s books alone (unless, perhaps, if actively chosen by the young reader)? And what should I suggest they buy instead? Especially as a fiver won’t generally cover a picture book, or one of the better chapter books with illustrations aimed at pre-schoolers.

I had hoped they were speedy and chose that book because they were getting a birthday present for a cousin or a friend. Not wasting Granny’s money on turning someone off reading.

A Topping corner

You’ve probably seen them somewhere. University age or slightly older, very full of themselves, and in towns like St Andrews most often from across the Atlantic. They talk a lot, and they are oblivious to the rest of the world. They are so cool and intellectual, and no one else has ever been quite so cool, or clever.

I happened upon a pair of them yesterday, in Topping’s. This is a lovely shop, which looks just as you’d want a bookshop to look like. But it’s cramped, and the aisles are narrow. Very charming.

Being me, I obviously headed towards the children’s books corner, where the picture books got some attention before I turned to the older children’s books, and then the YA section. There were three people there, all in the way.

The one I minded the least was a member of staff, who moved off to do other shelving tasks when she saw me waiting to access the YA shelves. But those other two… There they were, standing right into the corner, chatting away in their earnest, intellectual, transatlantic way. They were so cool.

And they were standing in what they might have felt was the most unwanted corner of the shop. In which case they did have some awareness of other customers. Or they were simply standing. In my way.

I could wait. I’d had a little sit-down first, so had the strength to wait until they noticed me, apologised and moved off. Except they didn’t.

I pondered suggesting they could toddle off to the opposite corner, which was empty. Would that have been very rude? Anyway, I didn’t. I stood there until they finally left. I craned my neck this way, and that way, and did everything I could to indicate that I had not also accidentally taken up residence in the YA area.

This is the beauty of old age. One becomes invisible. And the wonderful thing is they have no idea that not only will they also grow old one day, but I am, or have been, at least as intellectual as them.

And my apologies to Topping’s, but I will head to Waterstones, which won’t be quite so highbrow and exciting.

Love, friendship and nature

It was the flamingoes that convinced me. And I suppose it’s always lovely to read about creatures looking for love. Especially the male gentoo penguin, who woos his chosen partner by offering her a smooth and round stone. This is from Dancing Birds and Singing Apes, How Animals Say I Love You, by Smriti Prasadam-Halls, and illustrations by Florence Weiser.

In Rachel Bright’s little story about The Whale Who Wanted More, with very whaley pictures by Jim Field, we learn that amassing stuff does not make you happy. Happier. If you feel you need something, it’s probably something else. Friendship, maybe. Respect to Crystal who knew how to stop Humphrey the whale’s bad behaviour.

And finally to Benjamin Zephaniah’s Nature Trail, illustrated by Nila Aye, where we follow a bright-eyed little girl through her garden, looking at everything beautiful. When ‘we’ got to the night time garden, sleeping among the petals, I was caught. It’s as if I’d been there before.

Pirie was here?

‘Most of The Scores is closed off,’ said the Resident IT Consultant after his brief recce of the local streets. Less parking for us mortals. Even he could tell something unusual was going on, and actually Googled this unusualness to discover what he’d almost seen.

Seems STV is filming the new Karen Pirie series; including The Distant Echo, as described by Val McDermid back in December.

Later that evening, Daughter gasped as she looked out over our airbnb garden in the twilight. There was a tall lighting rig, with a yellow ‘searchlight’ thing. Just past the houses we back on to. So clearly they were filming something ‘at night’ and I suggested someone had found a corpse or two littering the Castle ruins. To my mind that’d be a perfect place to find dead bodies. If you have to find dead bodies, I mean. I’d obviously rather not.

Or there could have been some twilight chase up and down those paths to the sea. I don’t know. I’ve not read Karen Pirie. And anyway, scriptwriters do what they want…

But it would seem these are the mean streets of St Andrews.

The Book of Bok

To a Swede this is a very odd title, The Book of Bok. But why not? Bok is, apparently, a lump of rock. One of the ones dug up and taken ‘home’ by Neil Armstrong when he visited the Moon in 1969. Neil has written the words to this picture book about Bok, and Grahame Baker Smith illustrated.

It’s a mix of the history of the Earth and the Moon, as well as that of Neil Armstrong. If I’ve understood correctly, the words Neil wrote are mostly musings about what happened when Bok was out there, and which Grahame has adapted into pictures, showing what it might have looked like.

Space is always interesting and this story and its spacey pictures will suit budding astronomers.

The one thing I missed was the last line of the accompanying press release, where it usually offers the press the opportunity of interviewing the author. Wouldn’t it have been great if I could have?

Love & Other Crimes

I’ve learned I am the same age as VI Warshawski. Or I was, until VI slowed down her ageing, and she’s now probably ten or fifteen years younger. But let’s say I know where she came from. I always feel very safe with Sara Paretsky and her detective, and look on both of them as my sisters. One older, one [now] younger.

Love & Other Crimes is Sara’s short story collection from last year. It’s got older stories and newer ones, plus a brand new story. Many of them feature VI, including the one set in 1966, when she was ten, but there are also other sleuths; some of whom are older women, and some set well in the past. I like that.

Short stories can be ‘easier’ to solve, with fewer characters and less background. But the plots are complex and it’s exciting to see how who did what and why.

At her launch last year Sara read the first half of Miss Bianca, about a young child and some laboratory mice, and most of that had some connection to Sara’s own family and her childhood. There is also a story set in the future, in a dystopian, but oh-so-plausible, America, showing both Lotty and VI in a completely new light.

You won’t be disappointed.

Travelling to Narnia

My first memory from meeting Katherine Langrish seventeen years ago, is that at the age of nine she wrote her own instalment of the Narnia books, because to her mind there weren’t enough of them. I was glad, because I used to feel like that about some of my childhood books, but I never got past page two. That was in 2004 and she was in our neck of the woods to talk about her first children’s book, Troll Fell, a Norwegian style fairytale. In fact, the days of Katherine are all Before Bookwitch, since the third book in the Troll trilogy was published on February 5th 2007, one day BB, making Katherine a very early author acquaintance of mine.

Anyway, back to Narnia. While I believe she might have shown us her childhood book then, I have now seen pages two and three up close, being used for the endpapers of her brand new book From Spare Oom to War Drobe, Travels in Narnia With My Nine Year-Old Self (isn’t that a glorious title?). This is a book I’ve been looking forward to so much, despite it being about books I have not read and firmly believe I wouldn’t like, just because, well because I am convinced this is a really great book (with a quote from Neil Gaiman on the front cover), and because we say that you should write about what you know best. And I believe Katherine has arrived in Narnia, where she belongs.

It’s a gorgeous-looking volume, and one I’m very tempted to read, if only to learn more about Narnia. Half the population can’t be wrong, and in her online launch this evening Katherine mentioned Philip Pullman and his dislike of the C S Lewis stories, not totally disagreeing with him. The way I understand it is that it’s a pretty academic look at Narnia and its creator. It’s got footnotes. And the support of many literary names.

One of them, Amanda Craig, talked to Katherine about her book, as one big fan to another. It was quite enlightening and I really enjoyed their chat. I like people who like things that much. It’s good to look at stuff in-depth and to have sensible comments to make. I understand Amanda encouraged Katherine to write this book, after having read her blog Seven Miles of Steel Thistles, which is mostly about fairytales, and which has left me in awe of all Katherine’s knowledge.

This could have been a great launch in real life, but as it was, online made for a different great event, with many of Katherine’s peers peering out from behind their respective Zoom cameras. And the sun shone on her, forcing her to keep shifting her position.

The #28 profile – Barbara Henderson

It’s time to learn more about Barbara Henderson, the whirlwind behind The Chessmen Thief. This resident of Inverness has an unusual favourite Swede. I approve. And she clearly never gets tired. I’d approve of that too, if only I had the energy. Here she is, with answers and chessmen and everything:

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How many books did you write before the one that was your first published book?
It was my sixth book – although more if you count shorter books for younger readers. I am quite open about my 121 rejections before publication 😊. Not that I’m proud of those, but I am a little bit proud of persevering.

Best place for inspiration?
Anywhere outside, ideally next to some crumbling ruin which can fire up the imagination. Also, my bed, the twilight moments where conscious and subconscious ebb and flow. Some of my best ideas come then – I just need to whip myself out of bed to write it down, because by morning, it’ll all be gone.

Would you ever consider writing under a pseudonym? Perhaps you already do?
The honest answer is that I didn’t even think about it. It takes all my effort to maintain one identity – I just don’t think I have it in me to juggle another! Alhough sometimes I wonder if I missed a trick there – I could have given myself a really interesting pen name like Diamanda or Cwenhild…

What would you never write about? The World Wars, as they have been done really well by others. Sci-Fi, Crime and Legal Drama are also not my genres.

Through your writing: the most unexpected person you’ve met, or the most unexpected place you’ve ended up in? I was once approached by TRT World, kind of the Turkish version of News24, to do an interview about being an author and World Book Day, which I did. To this day, I am convinced they got the wrong person – I had two books out by then, with a small independent Scottish publisher, no agent, no foreign deals (so none of my books in Turkish bookshops). I was definitely not the person who would spring to mind if you are trying to think of a children’s author to feature in a flagship programme, with a famous anchorwoman. Bizarre, but a great buzz.

Which of your characters would you most like to be? In The Chessmen Thief, I’d love to be Margret hin haga – imagine being renowned across the whole known world for your carving skill! She was a real person, of course, and definitely a woman making her mark on a man’s world.

Do you think that having a film made of one of your books would be a good or a bad thing? I’d LOVE it, but I suppose I’d want it to be a fairly faithful adaptation!

What is the strangest question you’ve been asked at an event? I was timidly asked if I was okay once. But that was immediately after I had walked backwards during a particularly tense reading, fallen over my crate of books, landed in an undignified heap on the ground and sent books and shards of plastic flying everywhere. It was in front of a whole school assembly…

Do you have any unexpected skills? I can play the violin. Sort of. And according to my son, I am the best waffle-maker in the known universe. Does that count?

The Famous Five or Narnia? Narnia! I chose to write my university dissertation about C.S.Lewis!

Who is your most favourite Swede? Can I have two, please? Astrid Lindgren’s stories shaped my childhood. And as a teenager in the eighties, all my friends fancied Boris Becker, so as the resident rebel, I preferred Stefan Edberg!

How do you arrange your books at home? In a Billy? By colour, or alphabetically? Books are everywhere, but most of my children’s books occupy two large bookshelves in the living room. In an attempt to occupy my locked-down teen, I asked him to colour-arrange them for a change. It looks good, but the real benefit was that he stumbled across all his favourites from years gone by with sqeals of ‘I’d forgotten about this!’

Which book would you put in the hands of an unwilling eight-year-old boy reader? Probably You’re a Bad Man, Mr Gum, or How to Train Your Dragon

If you have to choose between reading or writing, which would it be?
Reading is for relaxing; writing is for feeling productive. So, due to my natural laziness: reading. 😊

OK, mine is a waffle with cream and jam, please!

Arctic Star

Tom Palmer just gets better and better. Have I mentioned this before? Anyway, he does. His latest book for Barrington Stoke is called Arctic Star, and it will leave you shivering (the cold) and reaching for a hanky. I’m not sure what age it’s aimed at, but I would say teens and adult. It’s WWII and mature in its handling of the war.

We meet three friends from Plymouth, on their first posting with the Royal Navy in 1943, in a convoy en route for Murmansk, protecting the ships carrying tanks to the Russians. It’s cold, to an extent you can’t even imagine, but think of it as hacking away at your freezer, but while you’re actually in it. And worse.

There’s the first convoy, followed by shore leave in Murmansk, the second convoy and finally the third convoy. You know people will have to die, but that – probably – at least one of our three young men will survive. They are scared, and cold, but in the end they know that to drop out of the war is not an option.

It’s just awful. And it makes me even more grateful that there were so many, perfectly ordinary people going through this kind of thing so that the rest of us could have a world to live in. We need to remind ourselves, too, that everyone on those ships had families at home, be it in Germany or in Britain.

You learn a lot in these short pages about life in Plymouth, life in the Navy, and life in the Soviet Union. Tom has done plenty of research as usual, and so much of the story is true. I knew what would happen to the HMS Belfast, seeing as I have actually visited, so it’s not a spoiler to say that she’s not sunk.

I’m very grateful for these books.

The Chessmen Thief

I reckon this is Barbara Henderson’s best book [to date]. I didn’t want to pause my reading, but I had to. And I wasn’t even all that interested in the famous Lewis chessmen, but this was a pretty exciting tale, featuring suitably bloodthirsty ‘Norwegians’ and brave and pious early Christians, travelling the world hoping to save people.

As she admits, Barbara obviously made most of this up, apart from the chessmen and the guesswork of where they were carved and by whom. But I’m sold.

Kylan is a 12-year-old slave from Lewis, sold to a violent, but skilled craftsman in Trondheim, which is where he becomes part of the carving of the famous chess pieces. All he wants, though, is to escape so he can return to Lewis and hopefully find his mother, who at the same time was sold as a slave into another household.

He learns to carve, he talks his way into a perilous boat trip across the North Sea, there is danger and illness and a hard life in general. There are more than one lot of properly bad baddies, and knives are not merely used on the chessmen, but on mortal men as well.

It’s very much a men’s world, but Barbara manages to get the lots of women, and girls, into her story too. It makes you think. And her version of how the chessmen ended up where they did, is as plausible as the next one.

Now I want to travel to Lewis. No I don’t. It’s not the travel I’m keen on. But some aspects of Lewis appeal.