Books: April Fifty Two in Fifty Two

"There are two motives for reading a book; one, that you enjoy it; the other, that you can boast about it" - Bertrand Russell

I've really struggled to find books that I've been absorbed by recently. I've started half a dozen - but just couldn't concentrate on them. April shall therefore be known as The Month When I Watched All The Box Sets. 

40. Marian Keyes, Anybody Out There? 2/5

Oh, Marian. I thought I'd give Marian Keyes a second chance after really not enjoying her latest - I was so optimistic that this earlier one would be as good as Rachel's Holiday - it's got quite a few of the same characters, but no. It was dire. 

There's a bit of a formula to Keyes books. We start in the present with a bit of a "mystery". Why is Anna at home? What's wrong with her? We then do a flip back to "the start" and work out how she got to the present. Then we see the after effects... It's formulaic in structure, and unfortunately in plot line. 

I just wasn't bothered about Anna - compared to her sisters and their pretty rediculous plot lines, she's a really one dimensional character. The elements about grief and loss were well written, but it's a shame that Keyes ended up overshadowing it with a massive plot about psychics and mediums. Really not for me. I won't be going back to her others. 

41. Margery Allingham, The Crime At Black Dudley. 2/5

I'd heard such good things about Allingham's Campion mysteries - as one of the golden age of crime authors I was expecting to adore this as much as I love her contemporaries. Sadly not. When an odd bunch turns up for a house party, you know something is going to go wrong- when a tradition involving a dagger is reenacted, you almost want to shout at the characters. 

Campion, our hero and detective, is a decided oddball, but he's also very much a background character, bumbling around without our knowledge to find the villains. At the risk of giving the plot away - it's not your average murder mystery. There's a criminal gang, someone gets locked in a wardrobe, and a major plot line involves the syphoning of petrol... I suspect the main problem really is that it's very much of its time. I'll give another of her novels a go, but probably pick a later one, when Campion is more established. This felt slightly more like a farce. Not my bag.

42. Louise Candlish, The Sudden Departure of the Frasers. 4/5

It took me ages to decide whether I enjoyed this month's Curtis Brown Book Group choice. You know there are some books which make you feel uncomfortable and a little voyeuristic while reading them, but you can't quite put it down? It's one of those.
Christy and Joe Davenport manage to buy number 40 at a bargain price - the previous owners left in a hurry, and no one on the street will tell them why. There's whisperings behind curtains, and people actively cross the road to avoid them. Clearly something is going on. The book is really two stories weaved together - as Christy begins to delve deeper into the mystery, we get to know Amber, who sold number 40 in a flash, and the reasons why she bolted. She's the opposite of Christy - manipulative, popular and flash with her cash. You just know something is going to go wrong - and it does.
I found it particularly clever how I was drawn to both sides of the story equally. There's an element of the 'haunted house' about the novel - Christy's dreams come tumbling down, and there's an unwritten question of whether it's because of her own actions, or because of Amber. Or did they both become victims of the house itself? There are parts which are decidedly difficult to read, as you see how the tale unfolds it's a bit like reading a car crash - but I was absorbed. It's hard to review properly without giving a major part of the story away, but I really enjoyed how Candlish handled a difficult subject and showed two sides of a situation incredibly well. If you're a fan of the current "female protagonist thriller" genre which is popular at the moment, I'd highly recommend it.

Live Below The Line: An Introduction

I signed up to Live Below The Line on a whim about six months ago, and promptly forgot about it. It's easy to do, isn't it? I guess that's half of why running a marathon is so impressive - aside from the running bit, there's months of preparation that go into it. I am not a runner. Marathons are not for me. But something involving food, and a challenge which I knew I'd find difficult in my own way? More my kind of thing.

My memory was jogged a couple of weeks ago when a letter thanking me for signing up came through the post, along with a leaflet about Unicef which made me cry. After the recent pictures from Nepal, of the horrific earthquake, my mind was made up. No backing out.

So - what is Live Below The Line?

It's pretty simple - participants have £5 to spend on 5 days worth of food and drink. It's up to them how they spend it, but that's all they get.

Where did it come from?

Two Australian charity workers came up with the idea in 2009. They gave it a go after a discussion about how difficult it was to explain their jobs when they lived in an affluent society - "we decided to be crazy, we took on the challenge for three weeks in September and documented our experiences. Friends who had never shown an interest in our work were suddenly engaged... living below the line created a window into the world of extreme poverty." Since then over 30,000 people worldwide have taken part, and over £7million has been raised.

Why £1 a day?

The World Bank classifies extreme poverty as living off less than the equivalent of £1 a day - we're talking food, drink, medicines, housing, and education, all for less than £1.
1.2 billion people in the world, around 20%, are classed as living in "extreme poverty". For context, that is more than the populations of the European Union, The USA, Australia, New Zealand, Japan and Canada combined.

Who are you fundraising for? 

I picked Unicef (United Nations Children's Fund), because they work worldwide in areas which need help urgently. They've recently been in Syria, Nigeria and Yemen, and are now in Kathmandu, supporting survivors of the earthquake. Despite their links with the United Nations, Unicef don't receive a penny from them, and they operate wholly on donations.
Put more simply - a child dies of malnutrition every 15 seconds, and Unicef provides 80% of the world's emergency food.

What are you eating?

This lot...

...which cost me a total of £4.45. The remaining money is going to be "spent" on 10 green tea bags (19p), 2tsp of dried mixed herbs (14p), 6tsp of soy sauce (11p), and 30ml of vegetable oil (5p). I've worked myself out a meal plan, which I'll post with an update on how I found the challenge.

I have no doubt that I'm going to find this tough. I'm so used to grabbing something from the fridge when I want a snack. I can't do that this week.

If you can - please sponsor me: https://www.livebelowtheline.com/me/gwen2015

Thanks.

Books: March Fifty Two in Fifty Two

"The person, be it gentleman or lady, who has not pleasure in a good novel, must be intolerably stupid" Jane Austen

A varied selection this month, albeit quite a small one, including both the lowest and the joint highest rated books of my Fifty Two Books in Fifty Two Weeks challenge so far.

36. Jacqueline Winspear, Pardonable Lies. 3/5.

The third of Masie's forays into crime solving see her embracing an unusual task - proving that her client's son did actually die in the war. Undaunted, she delves in to the case, and the novel sees her exploring France, revisiting her own past and experiences along the way. 

I struggled a bit with this one, having enjoyed the first two. I found some of Masie's characterisation a bit laborious - and her reactions not quite in keeping with the fiesty and self aware woman introduced to us in the first two, although the reintroduction of an old friend provided a contrast from the doom and gloom of wartime memories. I also found the conclusion way too convenient, to the point of irritating. I'd guessed part of it (it was obvious from the start), but the remainder slotted into place too conveniently for me. Maybe I'm just getting cynical and dark in my tastes. 

37. Val McDiarmud, Northanger Abbey. 1/5.

I debated whether to go with the maxim of "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" but I'm worried that you'll be intreagued and decide to give this a go. For the love of all things literary - don't. It is a strong contender for the worst book I've ever read (slash listened to as an audiobook). We see our heroine, Catherine Moreland, transplanted into modern day Edinburgh during the festival. Gone are the balls and awkward social situations, in are ceilidhs and unpleasant bankers. 

The main issue I had with it, aside from the cringeworthy descriptions of the city I love (what's with the constant street and theatre name drops?) was the complete lack of awareness of the original Austen and why it is a masterpiece. Instead of a pastiche on the gothic and romantic tales of the late 18th century, McDiarmud has given us a teenage romance and references to Twilight. The subtleties around the pressure on young women to "marry well" to avoid destitution later in life are lost, replaced with gold diggers and snobs. 

My suspicion is that Northanger Abbey just doesn't translate into modern culture - that's probably why it's not been reinvented as Clueless (Emma) or Bridget Jones (Pride and Prejudice) - but I suspect part of it was the author selection. I ploughed on with it, expectinf it to take a dark and sinister turn, but was disappointed. Such a shame. A lesson in avoiding pastiches of a pastiche.

38. Holly Smale, Geek Girl. 4/5.

I had absolutely no idea what Geek Girl was about until I downloaded it and started reading - it popped up as a suggestion on the local library's online books website as one that I might enjoy, so I thought I'd give it a go. I'm glad I did. 

Geek Girl introduces us to 15 year old Harriet, a self proclaimed geek. After being persuaded by a friend to go along to The Clothes Show Live (side note: yes they're still going, and yes teenage girls still go in the hope of being "spotted" a la Erin or someone else), Harriet ends up getting herself, somewhat awkwardly, signed to a modelling agency. 

As a quiet girl with very little confidence, badly bullied at school, Harriet sees this as Her Big Chance to start afresh and carve a new identity for herself, but in typical young adult novel style, it doesn't all go to plan.

Now, the likelihood of me picking this up and deciding to read it would normally be pretty slim. It doesn't tick any of the categories of any book I'd normally go for, but it's good to read out of your comfort zone every now and then. I enjoyed the escapism, the "moral story" was well handled, and it was great to have a teenage female lead who was funny, clever and incredibly likeable. It certainly made a change from the books I remember hating as a teenager. 

39. Iona Grey, Letters to the Lost. 5/5.

This month's choice for the Curtis Brown Book Group was a spot on choice for me after the first couple which weren't quite my cup of tea. 

In 2011, Jess is running from her abusive boyfriend. Desperate to find someone where to hide when she has nowhere to go, she breaks into an abandoned house and stumbles across a letter from an elderly man in America who has never forgotten the girl he fell in love with during the Second World War. And so our story begins - a complex but beautifully written double tale. On the one hand, we have Jess, struggling to rebuild her life, and on the other - Stella, a young woman in a semi-arranged marriage at the start of war. 

I'm not usually a fan of multi time frames narratives, but this works incredibly well. I think the key is that nothing is rushed. It's an incredibly long book - but in a good way. Our six main characters are slowly introduced and very well written - each has a realistic personality and their flaws are explained, so nothing seems particularly out of character. Grey tackles so many issues in a subtle way - poverty, homelessness, mental health and domestic abuse - but at no point does it feel like any of the issues are laboured, they're just part of the story.

It's really hard to review Letters To The Lost without giving too much away. We know from the start that Stella and Dan's relationship is doomed, but their story is still beautifully written, and it's an unusually uplifting book. Be warned - I'm hard hearted and cried twice (one in a brimming eyes way, once in an ugly way where I had to put it down to blow my nose), but I think that's testament to the story and how well written the characters are. 

Holiday For One

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single girl in possession of a spare room must be in want of a flatmate. Except, I'm not. It was one of the many things that surprised me about becoming newly single, the frequency with which I was asked whether I was looking to live with a friend. Generally speaking, I've found that living on my own is ok. I'm used to spending time on my own, I like my space, the peace and quiet is lovely, and I'm happy pottering around entertaining myself. When you've got tea, books, the cat, and box sets on demand, what more could you want?

There is a limit to my introversion though. I am really lucky in that it is largely a choice - if I'm teetering on the border of lonely then I can take myself out for a coffee, go to the gym, or give a friend a call.

The only thing that is bothering me? Holidays.

I never used to think of myself as a beach holiday person. As a child I'd hide inside during the summer, playing on the computer or reading. It'd never crossed my mind to go away with a group of friends while I was a student - we spent our summer holidays working, with music festivals as our equivalent of a week in Ibiza. It wasn't until I found myself desperate to escape to the drudgery of work and the constant Scottish summer rain that I really began to see the appeal. Four years on Greek islands... and I'm hooked.

The thing is that I'm not the kind of person who finds it easy to relax. My weekends usually involve one day of cleaning, tidying, cooking and going to the supermarket, and one day of seeing friends. I feel guilty when I lie on the sofa watching a film or reading - I can't enjoy it if I've got housework to do. No offense to my lovely family - who between them have some of the most beautiful parts of the UK covered - but I want warmth. and to be able to crack open a beer at 11am because it's cheaper than a can of Coke.

So, where does the single woman go on holiday?

I've been thinking about a Yoga retreat somewhere sunny and beautiful. There's something very appealing about the thought of a week spent relaxing both my body and mind, with the backup of company or solitude, depending on what I fancy. But the thought of sharing a room with a stranger terrifies me, and I'd be worried I'd pull a muscle on the second day.

Or then there's a city break - Barcelona perhaps - exploring and adventuring, visiting museums and wandering, eating picnics in parks. But is there a limit to how much you can enjoy an experience if there's no one to share it with, and is it wise to travel somewhere alone without speaking the language?

To follow the old cliché of finishing a blog post with a question - has anyone had experience of holidaying alone, and what wisdom would you share with me?

Books: February Fifty Two in Fifty Two

"It's not that I don't like people. It's just that when I'm in the company of others - even my nearest and dearest - there always comes a moment when I'd rather be reading a book" Maureen Corrigan

I've sort of lost the motivation for reading this month. I've started, and given up on, quite a few books, and mostly found myself listening to Desert Island Discs while walking to and from work, or cooking my dinner. Maybe it's a February thing, several folk have said they've struggled to concentrate recently - I've still not finished this month's Curtis Brown Book Group pick, which isn't like me at all. Anyway, a round up of February's reads:

32. Agatha Christie, The Mysterious Affair at Styles. 4/5

Ah, Poirot. After feeling the need for a lot of comfort books last month, I turned again to a favourite author this month. Styles introduces us to Poirot and his sidekicks Japp and Hastings in rather spectacular style. Christie's debut novel, set in 1916, sees Captain Hastings on leave from the army and recuperating from a minor injury at Styles Court, a country estate owned by family friends. When the matriarch of the house is murdered and the family begins to fall apart, Poirot (who has recently moved to England as a Belgian refugee) is called in to solve the crime. It's a fairly easygoing romp, an excellent introduction to the well loved series with a rather good twist at the end. I was surprised that I'd somehow never read this classic. Thoroughly enjoyable. 

33. Marian Keyes, The Woman Who Stole My Life. 2/5.

When this came through the post as part of my Curtis Brown Book Group welcome pack, I was really looking forward to devouring it. Having enjoyed another of Keyes' novels recently, albeit one that is part of a series, I had really high hopes for this standalone novel which has had rave reviews. However... I was disappointed. It started off promisingly, with the introduction of our lead character, Stella, who develops the life changing Guillain-Barre syndrome and finds herself suddenly paralysed. As the weeks in hospital pass, Stella begins to form a friendship with her neurologist, Mannix Taylor. The book has a really odd structure - it's sort of three books in one - spoiler alert - the "present", the "past" and the "book in a book". While this helps the narrative move along, and creates a bit of mystery, I found myself guessing what was coming up due to clues earlier on, which spoilt it for me a bit. 

The other thing that really spoilt it was, if I'm honest - I couldn't stand any of the characters. Stella, the lead, was wishy washy. Her husband was an arrogant arse. Her kids were unbearable. Most frustratingly - Mannix Taylor should have been struck off the medical register at about fifteen points in the novel. I also got really, really frustrated with how unpleasantly Keyes describes the nurses - a little point, but it really jarred and was borderline offensive. I feel a bit like Keyes had tried to write a 'lighter' novel with this one, but for me it flew way past the mark. 

34. Sue Townsend, The Woman Who Went To Bed For A Year. 3/5. 

I'm not sure that reading this straight after another book entitled "The Woman Who..." but after starting this a couple of years ago and leaving it on a train several chapters in, I spotted it in a charity shop I thought I'd give it another go. It tells the tale of Eva, who goes to bed on the day that her twins go to university, and refuses to get out of it again. She's not mad - she's just exhausted. Her obnoxious family don't appreciate her, her husband has been having an affair, and she hates her job. As far as key themes go - it's certainly one which a lot of people will identify with. 

I'd been expecting this to be a funny and wry look at mental health and 'normality' so I was surprised when it began to get into a slightly surreal plot. I spent a lot of the book wondering where it was going to 'go'. I'm not sure that's a good thing. What could have been a really interesting exploration ended up being a little bit of a farce - the most interesting parts were the tiny subplots involving the conspiracy theorists who take up residence in her front garden, and her friendship with Alexander, a Rastafarian White Van Man who she hires to get rid of all of her furniture. Speaking of Alexander - the other thing I wasn't a fan of was that he was one of only two characters in the book who were bearable, the other being an elderly man who was horribly disfigured in a plane crash during World War Two.

It passed the time, but I wouldn't rush to recommend it to anyone. 

35. J K Rowling, The Casual Vacancy. 4/5.

Having spotted The Casual Vacancy on my Sunday night TV schedule, I thought it'd be a good idea to give it a read first - it has been on my 'list' for a long time. Inevitably publishing anything off the back of Harry Potter was going to be a struggle (hence, I presume, the Robert Galbraith scandal) and this book has ended up a little bit like literary marmite.

When Barry Fairbrother, member of the Pagford Parish Council, dies suddenly, a 'casual vacancy' is created on the council. It becomes apparent how much one man is held in high regard by his neighbours, and without his input, competition for power emerges. Existing councillors begin to question themselves and their allegiances, and prospective candidates begin plotting. 

At the heart of The Casual Vacancy are some really dark themes. Drug addiction, child abuse (physical and neglect), bullying, depression, alcoholism - all are portrayed so casually that I was almost impressed when I'd finished the book. It wasn't hard hitting as such, it was so well written that it took me a while to really realise how subtly the characterisation had occurred. The contrast between the 'rich' Pagford old town and the 'poor' Fields council estate was slightly overegged (although a family member who is a social worker in the West Country, where it's set, assures me it's pretty realistic), but the snobberies and casual racism thrown about by both sides was very realistic and well written. I really enjoyed the multi character nature too, particularly how well drawn the teenagers were. Arguably they were the most pleasant and enlightened folk in the whole town - unusual to read a novel where teens are portrayed in a positive light. Dark, brutal and thought-provoking - worth reading. 

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: