The Liar’s Handbook

To be perfectly honest, I was a bit reluctant to read The Liar’s Handbook, even though it’s written by the excellent Keren David, for the equally excellent Barrington Stoke. I think I didn’t want to face any liars, just at the moment. Who does?

Keren David, The Liar's Handbook

River – yes, really – is a boy who lies. He seems unable to stop the fantastic lies from falling out of his mouth and into the ears of people who are getting a little tired of all the lies. There is trouble with school, but he has a cool mum.

The trouble with mum is she has a new boyfriend called Jason, and he is someone River really doesn’t trust.

I could tell early on what the plot was likely to be. It’s one you’ve come across in the news in the last few years, and I’m surprised no one else has written a novel based on this. Maybe someone has, but not like this; about living a lie.

This is about Jason, mum, River and his long time disappeared dad, River’s friend Kai, football, and saving the world in general. The stupid things adults do.

The Liar’s Handbook is absolutely marvellous, and once again I’m so happy to find another great book that is also dyslexia friendly. More please!

(And the physical book has beautifully rounded corners…)

I love cheese

I also love books.

Today’s the day when one should talk about love. I’ve been trying to come up with ‘love’ stuff to mention.

So that’s cheese and books. I love my family.

And, I quite like Bookwitch. Yes, awfully narcissistic of me. It’s not love, though.

The other day I had cause to search through older parts of Bookwitch, looking for something. Gold possibly. And I found I enjoyed re-reading older posts. Not all of them, but some were reasonably entertaining.

So that was nice. Reassuring. Maybe it hasn’t been a complete waste of time.

I came to the conclusion I am [a bit] like Gwendolen Fairfax, who said:  ‘I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.’

Cough.

Well.

And I discovered a fan letter I’d completely forgotten about. Clearly I could do with regular re-readings, if only to remind myself of my destroyed life, as imagined by my fairy blogmother.

I just love fan letters❣️

Terry Pratchett – Back in Black

It was the Barbican memorial for Terry Pratchett all over again. In the BBC documentary Back in Black on Saturday we could see an almost Terry. It’s enough to see someone wearing black, with a hat like his, and if there is a beard as well, then for a heartstopping moment it is Terry Pratchett. Here it was actor Paul Kaye doing what Terry didn’t have enough time to do. He did as good a job as you could ask for, speaking in the style of Terry, while not quite being our much missed author who has gone to be with Death.

I was able to point out to the Resident IT Consultant where I had been sitting, and towards the end when Eric Idle sang with the audience at the Barbican I got to see what I had to miss last year. Thank you for that.

Terry Pratchett postcards

Much of the rest of the programme was dedicated to alternately bless the world for having produced Terry, and crying because he’s gone. I have never before witnessed the seemingly unflappable Neil Gaiman even close to tears. We heard part of their story, some of which was new to me, filmed in the actual (?) place where a very young Neil interviewed a not so well known Terry.

And speaking of being not so well known; the clip from a 1990s television round table book discussion where they had the nerve to laugh and tut at our Terry was a real eye opener. If I was that woman I’d be worried about going out in public.

Val McDermid had good things to say about Terry as a lost crime writer, and many other friends shared their Terry with us. How I can sympathise with someone with a waist like the equator!

Rhianna Pratchett spoke about her father, mainly as a father. I’m glad he had time to be a dad in the midst of writing a couple of books a year and touring and getting to know his faithful fans.

And Rob Wilkins talked about the day Terry accused him of having mislaid the s on his keyboard. That’s the kind of thing that not only makes you want to cry, but you quietly begin to worry that one day you will lose your own letter s.

You – and I – have 28 days in which to watch [again] this lovely farewell.

Literary footprints in Charlotte Square

Charlotte Square

The talk has been talked for a few years now. The damage done to Charlotte Square every year as the Edinburgh International Book Festival sets up its tents and invites thousands of visitors, can no longer be ignored.

2011 mud

I’ve been torn between agreeing with the square’s owners that you can’t go on and cause more damage every year, while also agreeing with director Nick Barley that the festival would lose its personality if it had to move indoors, somewhere else in Edinburgh. When both parties are right, it’s hard to say what should be done.

Edinburgh International Book Festival

The news in the Scotsman this week is that the book festival has to ‘scale back’ its use of the gardens, and that they will have to move out onto George Street. I’m not sure whether it is ‘only’ the orders that are new. Reading the whole article it seems as if the move will be gradual and might not happen this year. Or I could be wrong.

Charlotte Square

I like the gardens. It’s lovely with all the trees and it’s good to be able to sit out on the grass when the weather is nice. It’s also a comfortable size; big enough, but still quite small and contained behind the metal railings. On the other hand, when I walk through George St on my way home in the evenings, I do like the feel of the street, with the people and the bars and the lights.

You always feel like you’re sitting on a traffic roundabout, with the buses and taxis just the other side of the tent walls, so perhaps it’s not too different to be moving out into the street itself. Although to be doing that, the book festival would be taking space from other festival businesses. George St is busy these days.

Well, I don’t know what will happen. We will have to wait and see. But the festival needs to stay in central Edinburgh; both to catch any casual visitors walking past, and to make it feasible for some of us to get there without extra travelling once we’ve got to Edinburgh.

Charlotte Square

The Borrowers

Let me bore you with some irrelevant facts.

Back in July 2000 I was standing in a Stockport bookshop. I can’t tell you which one, and by that I mean I can’t recall what name it was trading under at the time. It kept changing, as chains bought each other. It was the one near Sainsbury’s, and I was at the back of the shop, in the children’s books department. I know when, because I was there with my visitors from Sweden, who desperately needed new books. As you do.

They had a table featuring books from one publisher, with a two for one offer. I’m terribly ‘economical’, so felt this was a good offer and I should make the most of it. I seem to recall buying eight books, paying for four. Most of them I had no idea what they were, and simply picked the ones that looked the least bad.

I know. How very negative of me.

Mary Norton, The Borrowers

And one of the books was The Borrowers by Mary Norton. Being somewhat foreign, I’d never heard of either her or the book. But I did like it when I came to read it. I also realised that the story about these tiny people, living somewhere near you, is a bit of a classic.

The things you find out.

It’s been reissued again, and now comes as a lovely clothbound hardback, looking precisely as you’d expect an old classic to look like. It has the original Diana Stanley illustrations, and is simply an attractive little book. And this time I know about it, too.

Until We Win

Linda Newbery’s new book title for Barrington Stoke – Until We Win – takes on even more meaning than perhaps was intended when she wrote her short but engaging story about the suffragette movement. We keep being reminded of how important it is not to waste the vote, that so many women worked so hard to win for us.

Don’t be complacent and stay at home, in the belief that voting doesn’t matter. It does, and we are seeing the effects in spades these days.

Linda Newbery, Until We Win

Lizzy works in an office when she meets a couple of suffragettes and is taken on by their group. At last there is something vital that she can do! Lizzy marches and ends up in jail, where she goes on hunger strike.

At work Lizzy befriends another young girl, whose life also changes with the help of the older suffragettes. And in the midst of their campaign for votes, war breaks out and they have other work to do.

Linda’s story is fairly low key, but all the more powerful for it. We need fairness more than ever, and those who are looked down on must be given equality.

(Another gorgeous embroidered cover by Stewart Easton, in purple, white and green.)

Silver Stars

Absolutely splendid!

Not a word I normally use, but in this case I must. It’s a nod to one of the characters – a token semi-Brit amongst the GIs – in Michael Grant’s Silver Stars. This is his second book about these soldiers, in an almost true to history WWII. (I hesitate to use the word beginning with the letter a that I’d usually choose, as it has been abused recently.)

Michael Grant, Silver Stars

We return to where we left our friends in North Africa, where they are waiting to be sent on to somewhere else where their lives will be on the line. Again. They are young, but by now they are no longer green, and that makes a difference. Even the girls go out and get drunk and have bar fights.

Another thing I’d never considered, but which Michael points out, is that promotion has its negative sides. You need to lead, possibly send your friends into danger, and this is while you are still learning the ropes yourself. In war, promotion often comes because someone else went and got themselves killed.

Rio, Jenou and Frangie are fighting a more traditional kind of war, while Rainy has to live with the secrecy and dangers in military intelligence. Frangie must deal with the war as well as the prejudice against blacks. Rainy needs to tread carefully and not let the Germans discover she is Jewish. Rio wants to stay friends with Jenou, sort out her romantic problems and escape a rumour that she actually enjoys killing people.

It is funny, and it is horrible. There is so much mud and darkness and shelling and not enough food or soap. I had heard that Monte Cassino was no picnic, but only now I understand what it might have been like.

And when things go well, I was appalled to discover how much less positive the experience is for Frangie. Because she is black. But all our female soldiers are true heroines and role models, even at times when things are FUBAR (Google it).

The worrying thing is that as opposed to last year when I read the first book, things weren’t too FUBAR in ordinary life. Now, I don’t know what to think.

Other than that Silver Stars is the best book I’ve read this year. OK, it’s February, but still.