Recipe: Hot Chocolate

Apparently adults without kids catch an average of 3 colds a year. I'm one of those folk who doesn't get 'properly' ill - I manage to miss the Noro and Flu that do the rounds every year - but for some reason every cold I get goes straight to my sinuses. Cue 24 hours of headaches, nosebleeds, and feeling sorry for myself. 

In an attempt to cheer myself up after cancelling my weekend social plans, I've spent a lot of this afternoon sipping on rich, thick hot chocolate while watching Poirot. The Belgian connection seems particularly appropriate, as I was first introduced to "proper" hot chocolate by a friend at university who left half way through to start a cookery diploma in her native Belgium. We lost touch before I managed to write down her recipe so I've spent quite a long time trying to recreate it (turns out no one makes a hot chocolate like a Belgian), but I have very fond memories of watching films and sipping the thick, almost savoury chocolatey treat.

Serves 2 

25g 70% chocolate 

350ml full fat milk 

1tsp sugar

1tsp cinnamon

1tsp cornflour

1pinch cayenne pepper

Bring 250ml of milk (I used almond milk) to a simmer in a small pan. Add in 25g chocolate, chopped into pieces, and stir  until melted. 

In a small mug or bowl, mix the remaining 100ml of cold milk and the cornflour, along with the sugar, cayenne and cinnamon. Slowly add to the simmering chocolate mixture, stirring well until it thickens to a double cream consistency. 

Serve in small, beautiful cups with a sprinkle of cinnamon or a grating of chocolate to decorate. Perfect with shortbread for dunking. 

Kintsuge

Kintsugi (金継ぎ) - golden joinery

The Japanese art of Kintsuge dates back to the 15th century. According to one of the legends, a Shogun sent his favourite tea bowl to China for repair and was saddened when it returned to him stapled, metal bars bridging the crack. The damage was highlighted, the piece was ruined. He challenged his craftsmen to develop a technique for repairing the broken earthenware while ensuring it was still beautiful. 

The 15th century saw the development of the Higashiyama period of Japanese culture, which drew heavily on Zen buddhism, and the philosophy of wabi-sabi, which focuses on accepting transience and imperfection. Kintsugi draws on these philosophies - embracing the flaws in an object and making them beautiful.

Last week I went for a drink with some friends. Friday night, after work - nothing special. Except, it was. Several glasses of wine in, one friend bluntly stated that we probably wouldn't have got to know each other in the same way had I not had a rough time over the last six months. Another agreed. I don't think they're wrong. I've been thinking a lot recently about Brené Brown's wonderful TED Talk about vulnerability, and how human nature dictates that when we are at our lowest - the bottom of the downwards slide - hiding from the world is tempting, but being frank and open is what we need to push ourselves to be. The people that pick us up and put us back on our feet are the ones that look past the cracks and see the potential for gilding. Without those crevices, we wouldn't see the opportunities or the chances for growth and good things to emerge. 

And so, at the end of a weekend that has seen Galentines, Valentine's, and a slightly painful anniversary, I am grateful. I am thankful for the friends and family who have boosted my confidence, who have shared their experiences and wisdom, who have talked about their own vulnerabilities, and who have made me laugh. When you're going through hell, all you can do is keep going. But knowing people are there to pull you through makes it an awful lot easier.

Ceramics by Paul Scott. Images from his Flikr account. 

Exploring: East Lothian

When there is a rare day of sunshine among the wintery white skies, I always get the urge to adventure - or at least to get out of the flat and into the fresh air. I wrote a list of places to go and things to do back at the beginning of January when the year was beginning, and along with my monthly resolutions I'm aiming to work my way through a fair few of them over the coming months. 

One of the reasons I love Edinburgh is that it's so close to both the coast and the hills. When the grey clouds gave way to glorious sunshine this weekend, it was the perfect opportunity to start ticking off my list with a walk along the coast and woodland at Gullane. It was beautiful, with clear skies allowing for views of the hills of Fife were visible to the right, and the Edinburgh skyline to the left. A re-fuelling stop at a bakery on the way back, followed by a happy half hour spent chomping cake and sipping hot tea while watching the birds swooping at Aberlady, and a perfect Sunday was spent. 

February Resolutions

I'm so glad that January is over and done with, and that February is firmly underway. Earlier mornings, walking to and from work in daylight, and excellent plans with family and friends. Resolutions for this month are mostly around enjoying myself and feeling good. I love Edinburgh but like most folk who live somewhere "exciting", I'm guilty of going to the same places all the time. Instead of going to old favourites - be it a cafe, museum or bookshop - I want to explore more. The same goes for packed lunches. I'm stingy, in that I won't pay £3.50 for a crap supermarket sandwich, but I do have a tendency to pull a box of soup and a breadroll out of the freezer at the last minute. Healthy but dull. If I make an effort to eat more interesting food and enjoy it, I feel good for the rest of the day (and I'm considerably less likely to snack on biscuits). Similarly - if I set aside a little bit of time each evening to do a quick whizz round with the Hoover or wipe down the bathroom, I'll have more time to enjoy the weekend and be less resentful of Sunday evenings spent cleaning instead of watching trashy films. The jewellery one? Not remotely related to my having had an uncharacteristic moment of overexcitement in the 70% off section on pay day. Not at all.

Books: January Fifty Two in Fifty Two

"It is what you read when you don't have to that determines what you will be when you can't help it" Oscar Wilde

22. Anthony Trollope, The Warden. 3/5

I've been meaning to read more "classics" and not really done it, so when I spotted this and remembered enjoying a TV adaptation of another Trollope, I thought I would give it a go. 

It's the first in Trollope's Barsetshire chronicles, the tale of Mr Harding. Harding is the warden of a Hospital - alms houses for the poor - alongside his day job in the clergy. When a young doctor moves to the town and points out how disproportionately large Harding's stipend as a warden is, chaos ensues. 

It was clear that the novel is supposed to have a moral note, but I couldn't work out what it was. The church is criticised for profiting from the hospital, as is the press (for hounding Harding and making a scapegoat of him - apparently nothing changed in 150 years) but I couldn't really work out what the rest of the point was. Pretty much everyone is deemed to be at fault other than the corrupt Archdeacon, and men that were supposedly principled seemed to change their minds at the behest of a pretty girl. Dull and confusing.

23. Sophie Hannah, The Monogram Murders. 3/5

I was so excited about this one - I love a good Poirot, and have either read or watched pretty much all of the stories, so I was excited when this one finally became available at the library I devoured it quickly.
The first half of the book does follow closely in the style of a Christie with the sudden meeting of a girl in a cafe, and a locked room murder, and I was really quickly absorbed in the narration and adventure element. However - the second half really let it down for me, and I found it really quite hard to keep up with the red herrings. It got to the point where I was so confused with the plotline that I remembered I was reading a "new" Poirot - there wasn't enough character development to quite work out what was going on and there were a couple of small things (really hard to explain without giving the plot away!) that grated on me and I found myself thinking that the "real" Poirot would have got secrets out of people earlier. Maybe I'm just not a fan of pastiche after all.

24. Nicola Upson, An Expert in Murder. 2/5.

I was looking forward to this one - an accolade from P. D. James is a high recommendation indeed. Josephine Tey, writer and 1930s woman about town, is on a long distance train to London when she meets a young woman who is a fan of Tey's latest West End theatre smash hit. When the young lady is murdered on arrival at the station, Tey becomes entwined with the case, helping her policeman friend Archie solve the crime.
There's quite a bit of gadding about town, some unnecessary references to University boat races that are slightly out of place, and a lot of theatre luvvie chatter - but to be honest, not a lot else. Tey is a plot device rather than the main character and I didn't realise that she was loosely based on a real person until the end, which says a lot. There are too many subplots to keep track of what's going on, every time someone referred to another character as their "lover" I wanted to scream (I read a goodreads review where someone had started a tally, it was that frequent...) and to say that the whodunnit reveal made me raise a cynical eyebrow would be an understatement. I won't be reading the next in the series.

25. Jojo Moyes, Me Before You. 4/5

After becoming enraged by a Katie Fforde a couple of months ago, I asked the world of Twitter for suggestions. I wanted a non-crime book where the female lead wasn't entirely pathetic, didn't have a thing about an inappropriate bloke, and had a bit of gumption about her. This was suggested by a couple of people, and I'm so glad I read/listened to it. 
Lou Clarke is made redundant from her job in a cafe, and ends up taking a six month contract as a carer/companion to a quadriplegic young man to make ends meet. Initially Will, her employer, is difficult and unpleasant to be around, but as Lou learns more about his story, they become firm friends - until the inevitable plot device shatters Lou's perceptions. 
A decent female lead, a male character that isn't a misogynistic arse - what's not to like? Well... I'll be honest, I struggled a bit with the plot twist and Will's attitude. Assisted suicide is a difficult and emotional subject, and as I have had a colleague with similar disabilities, I found it particularly tricky not to want to scream at Will. Arguably this demonstrates a real talent for characterisation by Moyes. I wasn't a fan of her insistence on a class divide subplot (why did Lou's family have to be the stereotype of poor but loving, with Will's rich family portrayed as emotionally stunted?) but that was easily forgiven as all of the characters were believable and relatable regardless.

26. Alexander McCall Smith, Bertie's Guide To Life and Mothers. 4/5

I do love Alexander McCall Smith and his Edinburgh novels. He somehow manages to capture the characters of the city perfectly - the eccentric artists, the pushy mothers obsessed with gender neutrality, the rich and pleasant but slightly dim young men, and the all-seeing coffee shop owner - all are gentle parodies of personalities that anyone who knows Edinburgh will recognise.
I picked this up not realising it was the ninth in the series (I think I've read the first two or three, quite a few years ago) but still enjoyed dipping in to Scotland Street in the affluent New Town. I didn't feel like I was missing out on in-jokes, which is often the way with a series heavily based around characters rather than situations.
My only criticism though - I'm not sure how much someone that doesn't know the city would 'get' from these books. I suspect that the references to certain landmarks would be lost, and as Edinburgh heavily features as a silent key character, I think the subplots might lose a bit of their relevance or focus. Even so, an enjoyable and easygoing read.

27. M. C. Beaton, Death of a Dentist. 3/5

I know, I know, I said a couple of months ago that I wasn't going to carry on reading this series, but I ended up giving in and going for something cheesy to curl up with when the weather was particularly bad this month.
Hamish has a toothache - off to the dentist he goes, only to discover a murder scene. This kind of thing seems to happen to him with alarming frequency, considering how rural his beat is, but Macbeth is unperturbed and takes it upon himself to solve the crime. 

There's a little romance entwined in the tale (Hamish hasn't had the best of luck in the past), and the regular characters make appearances which is an improvement on the last couple I've read where the format has started to feel quite flat. A comforting and comfortable read.  

28. Katie Fforde, A French Affair. 3/5

Ok, so I slated the last Katie Fforde book I read - and then came back for another one. If I'm honest, I quite like rolling my eyes at her books (some people watch Made in Chelsea for the same reason, don't judge me...) and listening along while I'm walking to work. They're good for switching the mind off. 

This one was a definite improvement on the last - there was no stereotypical and unpleasant male lead (although there was an evil ex in the background), the main character was real quite likeable and the supporting cast didn't involve an older female relative. Easy reading (listening in my case) escapism. 

29. Antonia Honeywell, The Ship. 3/5

This was the first book sent to me by the Curtis Brown Book Group for review. If I'm honest, I wouldn't usually go for a Dystopian novel, and this had a tinge of the Young Adult about it - another label that would normally put me off. However - change from the norm is a good thing, and I really enjoyed reading out of my comfort zone. 

Honeywell is an alumni of the Curtis Brown Creative's novel writing course, with The Ship as her debut novel. It tells the story of Lalla, a sixteen year old living in the London of the future with her parents. They protect her from the brutality of the world, an Orwellian society where people who have lost their identity cards cease to 'exist', and tins of beans and sausages make a luxury birthday meal. Lalla's father has been harbouring a secret, a ship, which will provide them with a means of escape.

I found The Ship a fairly easy read, in terms of the alternative future and themes it presents it's straightforward. However - I think this was its downfall for me. I could see the plot unravelling before me (there were a couple of small 'mystery' elements which I guessed), and there wasn't quite enough depth or explanation for me to completely fall into the story like I'd hoped. I also found myself throwing my hands up at the ending... I suspect a sequel might be in the planning.  

30. Emma Healey, Elizabeth Is Missing. 5/5

It took me ages to decide whether or not I actually liked this book. You know when something is really uncomfortable, and sad, and it makes you a bit cross at the character even though the way they act isn't entirely their fault? There was a lot of that in Elizabeth is Missing. 

I listened to it as an audiobook which really helped me to become absorbed in the story - it's the biography of Maud, and her onset of dementia. As Maud's memory slowly declines, flickers of her past come through, and alongside her confusion about where her friend Elizabeth has gone, and why she isn't in her house anymore, the story of Maud's sister's disappearance in the 1940s emerges. 

Maud's decline and her relationships with her carers and family are incredibly well observed - the gentle reminders about forgotten words that rapidly become labels and in turn become frustrations and snapped harsh words will be familiar to anyone who has known a family member with dementia. I was also impressed with the way that Healey managed to negotiate really uncomfortable scenes in with ease - a particularly painful one towards the end when Maud doesn't realise that she has moved house brought me to tears, and the contrast between the kindness of some strangers towards her compared to others (I wanted to scream at an uncaring policeman) made me think about how difficult life must be with such an illness. 

The plots themselves intertwined well, and I really enjoyed the ending, despite having worked out the mystery of her sister's disappearance at the same time as Maud did, and having a good idea about what had happened to Elizabeth. 

I'll be urging my colleagues who work with older people to read this book - and everyone else I know. It was wonderful, if tough going in parts. 

31. Jaqueline Winspear, Birds of a Feather. 3/5

After finishing Elizabeth is Missing, I was after something a little more lightweight, and turned to the Masie Dobbs series. This is the second in the series (I read the first last year), which builds on the first well - characters are developed nicely, and we begin to see a bit more personality than in the scene setting first novel.
Maisie is called in to investigate the disappearance of a wealthy young woman, the daughter of a butcher-come-Oxford Street department store owner. Charlotte's vanishment is a big disappointment to her father, who is portrayed as a stereotypically gruff Yorkshireman (which annoyed me a little bit - are people from Yorkshire not allowed to be kind and caring in novels anymore?) - and Maisie's attempts to find her rapidly lead her on the trail of a series of murders.
The thing that bothered me about Birds of a Feather - and this is going to sound really picky - but I realised the significance of some of the clues (actually, the main ones) a good few chapters before our heroine did, which really annoyed me. I wasn't particularly bothered by the romance subplot either, it seemed a bit forced and unnecessary but I suspect it'll be explored more in the next in the series. 

Somerset: Winter

Very few people that know me will be surprised to hear that I dislike January. Like many folk, I struggle with dark mornings, dark evenings, and the weather. I am a cool blooded creature - I need sunshine to thrive.

I think part of the 'problem' is how much it contrasts with December. We're all looking forward to Christmas, holidays, time off with family and friends. There's lights and music and mulled wine and mince pies. There's novelty knitwear and glittery nail varnish. January? Not so much. Spring feels like a very long way away when it's so stormy outside that you can't sleep.

Part of my December was spent down in Somerset with family. I've been thinking about how lovely it was quite a bit recently, now that I'm back in the city and the rain is lashing against the windows (alas, no snow in Edinburgh). The more time I spend in the country, the more I realise how much I want to live in a little town, complete with its own book shop, cosy pubs and weekend walking group. Somewhere with a lovely walk along a canal towpath into town. 
One day, one day.

January Resolutions

I've been pondering New Year's Resolutions for a couple of days. Thing is - I sort of started what I'd been planning on using as mine back in September when I began my 52 books challenge. And seeing as I don't smoke, am not a big drinker, eat fairly healthily and am quite thrifty (ok, stingy - I am from Yorkshire after all...) I struggled. 

I then thought about doing a word for the year. They are the new thing in resolutions, partly (if we're all honest) because they're more about positive intentions than beating yourself up for failings. No one is going to mock you if you've not "develop"-ed by the second week in February. They will if you've resolved to quit smoking, only to be caught nipping outside "to keep someone company" after a glass or three of wine.

But - I couldn't think of a word either. What I really want to do is get into little positive habits. The things that I think "oh, I really enjoyed doing that". Or "oh, that's made a surprising difference to my health/work/house". They tend to be the things you never do because there's *so many* of them and it gets overwhelming. Or because you don't write them down and then promptly forget. 

So, I have decided that I'm going to start writing these things down. Four new resolutions a month - the idea being that if you do something frequently, it becomes automatic. A positive habit.

January:

Books: December Fifty Two in Fifty Two

"What she was finding also was how one book led to another, doors kept opening whenever she turned and the days weren't long enough for the reading she wanted to do" 

Alan Bennett

16. Ken Follett, Edge of Eternity. 3/5

I started this book in September. No, really. It's a stonking 864 pages, so it was always going to be a long haul but I was expecting to race through it. I'm a fan of Follet, I find his books are very readable, so I was really disappointed that Edge of Eternity, the third in a trilogy, didn't follow suit. 

Set mainly in the 1960s and 70s, it focuses on the social and political changes in the USA - the civil rights movement and the Kennedy legacy, with short dips in and out of Russia and Germany. I think this is the main reason I didn't enjoy it so much. Unlike the previous two in the trilogy, this book was less about the social changes and more about the politics, which made it harder to relate to and a bit more of a slog. Saying that - it brought me to angry tears at several points, and the weaving of real characters into the plot as fictional likenesses (e.g Alexander Solzenitsyn) was clever.

Enjoyable because it was part of the trilogy and I learnt a lot about 20th century history in a relaxed way - but not on the same level as the phenomenal first two. 

17. Jane Harris, Gillespie and I. 3/5

Another long one - about 20 hours as an audiobook. I'd heard great things about it but it didn't capture my attention until I was half way through. 

Our narrator, Harriet, befriends the Gillespie family quite suddenly and becomes a firm fixture in their lives. I could't quite work out how she could worm her way in so quickly, and I found her a bit of an unusual character. Desperately lonely, and living in a new city with no friends, it's not surprising that she clings on to every friendship possible, even when it's not completely sure if she's welcome. There was something unnerving about her though... 

It's hard to review this without giving away a massive spoiler - but - if you're a fan of a false narrator (think Gone Girl, only less irritating and more Victorian) and a gothic undertones it's worth a read. I'd suggest the book though rather than audio, as I suspect I missed quite a few "clues" by not completely concentrating.

18. Antony Horowitz, Moriarty. 4/5.

Ooh, how I love a Sherlock Holmes spin off. Although I didn't actually "love" the last Antony Horowitz one, if I'm honest. It just felt a bit... forced and overdramatic. I much preferred Moriarty, probably because neither Holmes or Watson feature in it.

In the aftermath of the Reichenbach Falls, we are introduced to Frederick Chase, an American private investigator who befriends Scotland Yard man Althelney Jones. Together, they begin an investigation into the seedy London underworld - which has rapidly begun to be infiltrated by New York gangsters after the demise of Moriarty. It's a cracking adventure, fast paced and fun with an element of the unusual - and with a cracking couple of plot twists. I really enjoyed it. 

19. Jessie Burton, The Miniaturist. 5/5.

I started reading this a few days before it was crowned "book of the year" after waiting for it a the library for several months. Ohh it was worth the wait. 

When Nella marries and moves to Amsterdam she is excited about her new life. Her husband presents her with a wedding gift of a miniature house, much to the disapproval of her new sister-in-law - a beautiful replica of her new home. As Nella begins to populate the miniature, dark and unnerving things start to happen, and secrets emerge. 

I loved this book. I couldn't wait for my lunch break to devour a bit more. It was creepy and dark without being overbearing, and the slow steady characterisation helped to unravel the story. I was so disappointed when it was over - the praise wasn't for nothing. 

20. Helen Fielding, Mad About The Boy. 3/5.

The third in the Bridget Jones series, it picks up over ten years after the second book left off. Having missed the newspaper column in the 2000s, I was a bit worried I wouldn't have a clue what was going on, but the column seemed to go completely unreferenced and the book plunged in to life for Bridget in 2014.

There were things I didn't like about it. Bridget has aged at the same rate as the books (rather than the films which came ten years later) so we meet her at age 51, with two young children in tow. I don't know why, but this just didn't work for me. It didn't seem quite right having her attend 60th birthday parties. There was no Shazzer. There was no Bridget's dad. Or Mark. 

But - it was a really warm tale about life after bereavement. It was funny and relatable (even if you're 20 years younger with no kids), and an enjoyable bedtime read. One of the best "female" books I've read in a while. 

21. Agatha Christie, The Secret Adversary. 2/5.

I had such high hopes - an Agatha Christie I've not read! Turns out there's a reason for that. The first Tommy and Tuppence adventure was less of a murder mystery and more of an attempt at an interwar spy novel, but without the charm of more famous tales from the period. Set after the First World War, it starts with Tommy and Tuppence bumping into each other, having first made friends in a military hospital. Unemployed and bored, they decide to get involved in "adventures and mysteries" - and are rapidly embroiled in complicated mysteries involving a ship, some Americans and a judge who may or may not be a wrong 'un. 

I listened to this as an audiobook and was really quickly bored by it, finding myself drifting out of concentration as it got more far fetched. It passed a day cleaning the house in anticipation of the holidays, but I won't be rushing to find any more of the series. Poirots and Marples for me!

Recipe: Speculoos (and Santa)

I had my first mulled wine of the season last week, catching up with a friend who has a four year old daughter. Talk turned to Christmas, and how her daughter had loudly announced on the way home from playgroup that Santa couldn't be real because there'd been so many books written about him. Yes, at such early age, she'd clearly started to twig that something wasn't quite right about the thought of a chap dropping down the chimney. ("But surely the dog would bark and wake us up Mummy?")

My friend had, as most parents would, looked aghast, tried not to panic, desperately changed the subject, and decided to bring it up at another point. But how do you broach the subject with a precocious four year old who runs the risk of upsetting every other child in her class?

St Nicholas. That's what we came up with.

I first heard of Sinterklaas, or Saint Nicholas, when I came to Edinburgh and moved in with a Dutch friend. A 4th century Christian bishop, he was canonised for being an all round good egg and champion of the impoverished. He is remembered for leaving sweets in the shoes of poor children - and for his most famous exploit, when he threw three gold coin pouches down the chimney of a pauper, who could not afford the dowries for his daughters. One version of the tale tells that the girls had been washing their stockings, and left them to dry by the fire and that the money dropped inside...

A facial reconstruction of St Nicholas - source

His saint day - 6th December - is celebrated across many continental European countries. In the Netherlands, it's bigger than Christmas for a lot of young children, and is celebrated the night before. On the evening of the 5th December, families eat a traditional pea and bacon soup, play games and swap gifts with little rhymes for each recipient. Shoes are placed in front of fireplaces and windows in the hope that sweets will appear inside. On the morning the 6th, St Nicholas heads off back to Spain (where he, slightly randomly given his Greek heritage, apparently spends most of his time).

He's become a controversial character in the last few years - mostly because of his attendants, Swarte Piets. Black-faced children accompany Nicholas on his arrival into town. The Spanish connection and the curly black hair implies that his servants are Moors - which makes it slightly dodgy... but politics aside, it still strikes me as fascinating how a saint who died 1600 years ago became our modern day Santa. It's believed that he travelled over to America with the Dutch West India Company. Combined there with the English tradition of Father Christmas, a friendly Yule-tide visitor who celebrates with friends (St Nicholas never quite made it over the Channel), the modern day Santa Claus was established.

Anyway. Back to Sinterklaas.

Ever since I've known my Dutch friend, we've had a Sinterklaas celebration together. It's normally a couple of days late, as she travels home to see her family - but it's become the start of my festive season. I volunteered to do some baking for our gathering, and was handed her family recipe for Speculaas, or Speculoos, cookies. Similar to gingerbread, but with less of the ginger, and with more cloves and cardamom, they are a really delicious and slightly savoury soft biscuit. I used my friend's spice mix - but if you don't have all of those ingredients, I reckon they'd be just as delicious with mixed spice as it's really similar, only without the cardamom.

Speculoos
Makes around 20.

120g butter

100g dark brown sugar 

200g self raising flour

1 tsp salt

1 egg

2 tsp spice mix 

Cream together the sugar, butter, salt and spices.

Add the egg, slowly sift in the flour and mix into a sticky dough. 

Bring into a ball, wrap in clingfilm and refrigerate for 30 minutes. 

Preheat the oven to 170C. 

Roll out the dough on a clean, floured surface, handling as little as possible to keep it cold. Ideally you want it about 7mm thick (I know, I know). Cut into festive shapes, or triangles. 

Bake for approx 20 minutes on a non-stick or lined tray. When you take them out, they will seem very soft and possibly undercooked but they'll firm up a treat as they cool.

Best eaten warm while they're still soft in the middle. Perfect with mulled wine or hot chocolate. 

Books: November Fifty Two in Fifty Two

"Why can't people just sit and read books and be nice to each other?" 
David Baldacci, The Camel Club.

A slightly paltry selection this month, somewhat hampered by my having started reading a 850+ page tome (can I count that as 3 books?), and a 19+ hour audiobook after finishing these four. Unsurprisingly, I've not finished them yet. Roll on December, month of candles, blankets, port, cheese - and more books.

12. Graham Greene, Our Man in Havana. 4/5 

Graham Greene has popped up a few times as a suggestion in my Goodreads list, as I have quite a few classics on there. I wasn't completely sure what to expect, having (if I'm completely honest) not really heard much about his books before, but I really enjoyed it. The tale of how an English vacuum cleaner salesman living in Cuba accidentally becomes a spy somehow managed to be funny, despite a definite dark undertone. Even though it's a fairly short character based tale, the atmosphere of 1950s Cuba, pre-missile crisis, is very evocative and although being deliberately farcical, Greene's own experiences of working for MI5 make it strangely believable. I really enjoyed it, although I did crave daiquiris for several days afterwards. 

13. M. C. Beaton, Death of a Nag. 2/5

Aside from Our Man in Havana, most of the books this month have been decidedly un-taxing and comforting. However, after a couple of duds in a row, I think it might be time to extract myself form the Hamish Macbeth series, and move onto something else as my fluffy bedtime reading. Our lead character was still pining over a broken heart - and tragedy comes in threes, as another loss knocks him for six, and someone staying in his holiday B&B is murdered. 
As with some of the others I've read where the setting is Macbeth's hometown, the characters just felt flat and one dimensional. I was surprised at the murderer, but to be honest I wasn't overly bothered, having got bored of the unpleasant stereotypes about handsome men and spinster women along the way. Disappointing. 

14. Carola Dunn, Fall of a Philanderer. 4/5.

Ah, this is more like it. I do like the Daisy Dalrymple series - it's as cheesy and fluffy as Hamish Macbeth, but with a cracking female lead (think a young Miss Marple) and a brilliant supporting cast. The characters have grown with the series, so reading them in order has been a good choice, but they'd be fun as standalones as well.
This one - set while Daisy is on holiday - was an entertaining romp, with characters that veered on the right side of believable for a very camp novel. The prejudices and realities of life in 1920s Britain were nicely explored - the poverty of farming families, the emotional impact that war had - without being forced. It's also one of very few "crime" novels I've read where I didn't guess the twist, which is always quite satisfying.

15. Hester Browne, The Vintage Girl. 3/5.

I started off quite liking this one. Evie is a massive antiques geek - obsessed with buying "treasures" that noone else wants. She has a bit of a thing about country houses, and so she is in her element when she finds herself invited to value the contents of a castle in the Scottish Borders. So far, so predictable, I thought. Except - unlike the Katie Fforde I hated last month, it wasn't. There wasn't a massive neon plot device sign, things were a bit more complicated than that, which is always a good thing. 

However... It still irritated me. Clearly written for the American market, the details of Scottish dancing and stereotypes that accompanied it were excruciating. The leading lady began to grate after a while, and the ending all felt rather rushed and sudden. Not bad for a bedtime read when you can't concentrate on anything else - but not exactly good either.