New Year resolutions

These last couple of weeks of 2012 I have been reading even more than usual. I finally finished Mantel's Bring Up The Bodies and to continue the historical novel theme, I have started on The White Queen by Philippa Gregory. I've thoroughly enjoyed Guy Ware's short story collection You Have 24 Hours To Love Us (review due very shortly on Bookmunch) and I've read The Taste Of Apple Seeds by Katharina Hagena (keep checking for a link for the review too).

A new book landed in my postbox yesterday -  Lucy Caldwell's All The Beggars Riding - which I will tell you about in a few days, when I've read it. I think I will like it, judging by the first page. So a very enjoyable end of the year for me!

I have also joined the ranks of the Kindle readers, although I have to admit that I still prefer 'real' books much more. True, Kindle is convenient and light, but I will be buying the paper copy of Bring Up The Bodies anyway - I've confirmed my opinion that reading isn't just about the text. I loved the book, yes. But I would have loved the experience even more if I had read it page by paper page, leaving my own trace on them, sometimes invisible and sometimes - a sneaky stain of coffee or a crease where I sat on the book by accident. And the moment that I finished it, I would have enjoyed putting it on the special Favourite Books shelf much more than just storing it on Cloud.

 So what's the plan for the New Year? Well, loads of writing. Many hours of reading. A new, more serene me - achieved, hopefully, by my new (future) running and yoga regime. And most importantly, getting the writing out there, into the world. When I first started NotMadeForNorthernWeather, I challenged myself to read a short story a day for as long as I could. Here's the new challenge: get one piece of fiction writing out once a month. Not just write it but actually send it out. A modest challenge, I know, but in the worlds of the bulls from Selma Lagerlof's The Wonderful Adventures of Nils, 'slowly but surely, slowly but surely.' And since I am myself a bull, that will suit me nicely.

 

The 2012 vote - what's your best book of the year?

I was asked to nominate the best 2012 book in my opinion for Bookmunch. Hilary Mantel's Bring Up The Bodies had already been snapped by someone quicker than me so I had to think again. My choice - Ruth Padel's The Mara Crossing - will probably become one of those books I don't forget. I've written before about this gorgeous collection and you can read my thoughts here and here. In fact, I'm glad my first idea had been taken - I am a fiction reader through and through, at least when it comes to reading in English, and so to get such a strong connection with a book of poems was unexpected. But it was the accompanying essays that sealed my fate - Padel's reflections on life and death and, most of all, migration, are exquisitely written and wrap the poems as lovingly as a perfect Christmas present.

To read more on the best of 2012, click here

‘A multi-layered, thought-provoking collection that might bring with it a bout of sweet nostalgia’ – Where Have You Been? by Joseph O’Connor

          'And through all this diversity – one theme, of family and fatherhood, whether in a personal sense or maybe in a wider meaning of our relationship to our roots, to our countries, wherever they are. Of course, for O’Connor it is Ireland, but the torturous love to one’s native land mixed with sometimes pride, sometimes, pain and embarrassment, and often unresolved feelings that a child might feel for their parent – this love is something anyone can understand without ever setting foot in Ireland...' Read the whole review here on Bookmunch.

It's all about the money, money, money...

I remember some years ago, at school, we used to have discussions such as 'Will books be replaced by television and computers and disappear completely?' Well I'm glad to see that this is much less likely to happen now than it looked back then. The Amazon book reviews scandal alone proves that books are not only very much alive but that we seem to be more interested in writing now than we were twenty years ago.Otherwise why would we be so passionate about what gets reviewed and how?

Another interesting thing is how writers used to care more about status and reputation whereas now the focus seems to be more on money. With the likes of Jordan and Britney Spears taking to writing books, and everybody and their dog having an E-book published,  the whole idea of being a published writer is taking on a completely different meaning. A few years back, only being published by a reputable publisher counted as the real thing. Now not so much. There are successful E-books out there, and successful self-published books too. Although what constitutes success at this point is becoming less and less defined. Is 50 Shades of Grey a success? Some people would say no, but then it has sold - as a trilogy - over 12 million copies in the UK alone. So is it all about sales? Is everything about sales nowadays?

On the X-Factor the other day, the biggest compliment seemed to be something along the lines of 'you will sell a lot of records'. Is this our only measure of success? If so, then no wonder that some authors would rather spend their time writing fake reviews for their own books or bad reviews of their rivals' ones than actually get on with writing.

A few years ago, someone told us, a group of creative writing students, to work out what success means to us. Being published, I thought then. Earning a living from writing. I still think these things are important. But the very core of that success is not in money, or sales figures. I doubt that this is what a writer would think about on their deathbed. The most important thing for me is to say what I have to say, in the best possible way, and hope that it would reach those who are supposed to read it.

The Granta Book Of The African Short Story

'A young woman, having been brought up by her uncle and aunt in Nigeria, has been packed off to America to marry a doctor, a Nigerian himself who has not been home in eleven years. ‘What could be better?’ asks auntie Ada, and then adds ‘It’s like we won the lottery for you!’ It turns out, the doctor is not a doctor yet, and his name Ofodile has morphed into a more Western Dave.' Read the rest of the review here.

The Granta Book Of The African Short Story

I have just finished reading this magnificent anthology and my review will be up on Bookmuch shortly - check for the link in a couple of days!

I am now starting on the latest Joseph O'Connor's collection of short stories and a novella. I have to say, short stories have occupied my mind for the last few years much more than novels, both in reading them and in my own writing. Maybe it is because they always seem more real to me, as if their characters are people I have met here and there over the course of my life, with the fragmented way that other people's lives make themselves known so often. It is also the punchy power of the short story that I love, its beautiful way of making a point and its sketchiness that can sometimes so suddenly become an amazingly detailed drawing.

I am very excited that so many short story collections have been published recently - hopefully, this is a trend that will keep developing.

Two days later...

So it's been two days since I pledged to stop limiting myself with too many convenient choices. In that time, I have been to London with my family BY TRAIN, something we hadn't ever done, and had an amazing time WALKING around London, sightseeing and even visiting The Natural History Museum. We took loads of arty photographs (arty because our digital camera has a broken screen and feels like a Diana F at the moment) and I feel so much more inspired.

I have had two nights of vivid, emotional dreams and wrote a short story today. What a difference in my life! In fact, I feel like starting a campaign in favour of limiting the control that the latest technological advancements have been having on us.

Is too much convenience inconvenient?

I have a car. I work mostly from home. I have satellite television which even allows me to watch Russian channels from the UK. I have access to fast broadband and, generally speaking, my life has lately become very well organised, at least from the convenience point of view. And yet as I feel more and more flexible in how I live my life, I also become more and more limited. I have a choice of when and where to shop. I don't have to make any specific arrangements for transport, other than find an hour when it suits me to jump into the car and go to the store. Convenient? Or isolating? How about the fact that over the last couple of years I have gotten used to avoiding driving into the city centre because I don't want to pay extortionate amounts for parking, which has meant that I just have not bothered to go into Manchester at all!

Of course, this is all a choice. Watching TV at night when I could be writing, or sleeping, is my choice. And driving the car to go to the gym when I live next door to the largest municipal park in Europe is also my choice. But I wonder how I got to this point, where it takes something drastic like my car needing repairs for me to realise that I have been limiting myself, and my life. And that's the thing about all the wonderfully convenient things that we now have: we have to learn to control how much access we give these things in our life. If we watch TV and that replaces us experiencing things for ourselves - that's too much access. When we drive the car instead of walking with our kids to school and miss out on watching them go on their bike or scooter faster than the day before - that's too much access. When I don't exercise on the days that my husband has the car - that's too much control.

For a creative person, this is almost creative death. I have not been feeding my funnel and now it's running out of  material because I have locked myself into this very convenient situation. So I am going to take action. I will only use my car when I have to, and to make that easier I might even choose to not have a car for a few months. I will watch all my favourite TV shows in one go, probably at the weekend when I want to vegetate. Knowing me, I'd probably lose interest pretty quickly anyway and go off TV completely - it has happened before!

But the most important thing is that I will consciously get myself out there, into the currently very wet world, and start filling my funnel with random rencontres, observations and, mainly, people, because let's face it, what is art without people?

Writing for free

If I worked in a 'normal' job, say at a checkout or in an office, I doubt I would be getting up every morning with a burning desire to start work, only to then spend the day procrastinating and putting it off, coming up with thousands of things to do beforehand or just staring at the office building once I did managed to get my sorry arse there, and then walking away in frustration and embarrassment. No, I would probably - and I know this from experience of having a 'normal' job - I would probably get up in the morning, and whether I liked it or not, I would get dressed, have my breakfast, and then show up at work. Granted, I may not be very motivated on some, or most days. I would most likely grumble when faced with things I don't particularly enjoy doing but I would still get on with them, and once I got going, knowing myself, I would find something positive and exciting about it.

The thing is, I would do all that in a job, but then I would also get paid for doing it. And maybe that's the difference between writers who treat their writing as a job, showing up every day no matter what and getting on with the least exciting parts of writing, and those writers who don't get paid for their writing, or at least not enough to survive on. The majority of writers have to fit their writing around their other jobs, and other responsibilities. Compare this to everyone else, who plan their lives around their working hours. No wonder so many writers become blocked and demotivated. After a day of 'proper' work plus commuting, children and housework, eight hours of writing seem an impossible task. And yet that's how much time we would devote to a 'normal' job in an office.

Our civilisation is fast and focused on money-making. On the one hand, it's a good thing. We are creating a world that functions 24/7, a non-stop flurry of activity that is making humankind live longer and achieve more. On the other hand, if the consequence of longer life expectancy is that we would have to stay in work even longer, and the consequence of the 24/7 culture is that we never get a chance to enjoy our lives, then are we actually going in the right direction?

What would happen if the focus shifted from constantly doing something productive to time spent thinking, contemplating, talking? What if we paid artists and writers to do their important work, instead of making them suffer and prove they are good enough first? If we accepted that instant gratification isn't always the best thing for us?

I recently read an article about happiness. Live simply, it said, and cheaply. Spend time with friends and family, do something you enjoy regularly.  And another, about the author Kate Mosse, who said that she gets up at 3.30am and writes for eight hours a day.

I won't try eight hours a day. I'll go for one hour. Nor the 3.30am, since that would only give me two and a half hours of sleep every night - I'm a bit of an owl. But I'll do the living simply thing. I'll let you know how it goes.

My review of Dare Me by Megan Abbott is ready on Bookmunch.

I don't like to label books, and the term 'holiday reads' grates on me in particular, but Dare Me turned out to be a perfect summer novel, not too heavy and yet exciting. Maybe it is because the world of its characters, cheerleaders Addy, Beth and their coach Beth, is so far from mine and at the same time its teenage angst and confusion are so well captured that I can at once relate to it and still view it as entertainment, not something to think about for years afterwards.

You can read the review here.

Not Made For Northern Weather

My short story Not Made For Northern Weather has been published on the Mod-Doom-Magazine website.  You can read it here: Not Made For Northern Weather

The Village by Nikita Lalwani

My review of The Village is up on Bookmunch.

'...There are the obvious themes of inequality and corruption that are rife in India and the sensationalist culture of British television, but there is also the theme of an outsider, someone who doesn’t quite belong to either of the cultures, and is not fully accepted by either. ‘I resemble everyone but myself…’ starts the novel with an extract from a poem Self-Portrait by A.K. Ramanujan. Ray looks like the villagers, she dresses like her English co-workers. She portrays herself as a ‘veg’ – a choice for the upper classes in India – until we find out about her secret rendezvous with chicken at a local curry house...' Read more here

Once You Break A Knuckle by D.W.Wilson

D.W. Wilson's first story collection was published recently by Bloomsbury and what a great read it is for all short story lovers! After reading so many novels one after another it was fascinating to see just how playful and intricate short story collections can be. When I was a child and studying Piano, my teacher would always give me something called Variations to play. Any musician knows what they are - variations of one theme, executed in different styles, sometimes barely recognisable from one another but always exploring the same idea. As I read Wilson's collection, I had a similar experience of playing with the same idea, looking at it from a different perspective.

Short story collections appeal to our ability to fill in the missing pieces through our imagination. They don't always explain everything, and that looseness is what I love most about them. Some said that Once You Break A Knuckle is a male collection, along the lines of 'Man hunt, man bring food, man fight'. Maybe it is, but it is so refreshing to see those very macho men be sometimes so gentle, so unsure of themselves, so human.

Read my full review on Bookmunch

Books as a comfort blanket

I am reading a book on auras by Ted Andrews and it has made me think about the reasons for my strong feelings about reading 'real' physical books as opposed to reading them on a tablet. I have always loved the feel of paper, the imagery from the illustrations, the physical object that I can keep and refer to whenever I wish. But it isn't just that.
According to Ted, auras leave an imprint on the objects they come in contact with. I have experienced this myself on a regular basis so I agree with him. The thing about books is that the longer we have them, even without reading them, the more of our own energy they absorb, providing us not just with an object we can refer to but, more importantly, with another source of positive energy. If you have ever picked up a book that you read as a child, or any book that has belonged to you for a long time, you probably felt a strong sense of comfort, joy or another positive feeling.
One of my weird hobbies is collecting Billy bookcases from Ikea. When I say collecting I don't mean stacking them around - I just seem to acquire so many books so fast that I need more and more bookcases to store them. I know some people dread putting furniture together but every time I get a new Billy and have an opportunity to put my new books in their lovely new homes I get the same feeling as kids do when they hug their comfort toy or blanket.
Of course, tablets have their uses but I think I'll stick with my paper comfort blankets instead.

Ruth Padel's The Mara Crossing - a review

'...Mara comes from Latin and means ‘bitter’. Mara, or ‘mer’, appear in many languages and often mean something horrifying, like Buddhist’s Mara, the demon of illusion and death, or even the root of the Russian word smjertj, meaning ‘death’. Padel came to associate this dark meaning with the crossing she witnessed at the river Mara inKenya where thousands of wildebeests crossed the river as they do every year. Hundreds of them were eaten on the spot by crocodiles but the rest survived and got to the other side, only to take the journey back in a few months...'
Read the rest of my review on Bookmunch.

The Whores' Asylum by Katy Darby

...'Darby’s impeccable style is at the same time Victorian and current, which creates a strange but enjoyable impression of being transported back in time as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She is one of those authors that the reader would be curious to meet, even if it is just to see whether she does speak like that in real life...'

My review of a fascinating gothic novel The Whores' Asylum by Katy Darby is on Bookmunch.

The Flow of Creativity

Be honest - how often do you force yourself to be creative? Do you find yourself getting frustrated when your creativity doesn't flow easily? Do you get angry at yourself, doubt yourself, get insecure?

Most of us do this on a regular basis. A couple of years ago, I was researching 'writers' block' for a project and I came across a motivational speech on TED Talks about the way the ancients viewed creativity and genius. Instead of the tortured but big-headed approach that we seem to take nowadays of being talented and creative, the Romans, for example, believed that genius was something that visited us, like a muse, when it desired to. Of course, on the one hand, all the reward would go to that strange muse should a creative come up with something great, but on the other hand, just think of all the pressure dropping from your shoulders when you realise that when you are blocked, or just restricted in your flow of creativity, it isn't your fault. The muse just hasn't visited you today, that's all. And you know women, they are unpredictable, and very busy nowadays, right?

If you were pregnant, you wouldn't pop babies out one straight after another. Even if you had a child almost every year, there would still be periods of what seems like rest, when on the surface nothing is happening. Maybe you'd feel sick every morning or put on a bit of weight, but overall you'd look like every one of us, just more tired. But on the inside, at that very moment, very important developments are taking place. We know it because we have all the science to tell us exactly what is going on. For an artist, however, there is no scientific evidence to prove to themselves or to everyone else that they aren't just being lazy, blocked or on a sabbatical that lasts forever. But then, we artists don't always need science to tell us how we feel. If we are stressed about being blocked, the muse wouldn't come to us - what woman would want to spend her time with a mad stressed-out depressive?

Maybe this is all to do with our era of delivering results, and fast. Maybe the Romans had more time on their hands, without the constant news, emails, telephone calls and kids' activities. But forcing our creativity would be the same as forcing a pregnancy. The baby will only be born healthy if we give it enough time and rest to develop.