Maybe it’s a sign of the times. Maybe it’s because I’m writing. Maybe it’s just the books I’ve been reading lately. Whatever, something has affected me. Something has changed the way I look at things.
Not people. I don’t mean people. I’ve always noticed them for all their weird and wonderful foibles. I mean my surroundings. The environment. Nature.
Okay, I’m gonna come right out and confess. I am an apprentice bird-spotter. Yes, I asked for (and received) binoculars for my last birthday. I blame Amy Liptrot. Until I read The Outrun, I was under the impression that bird-spotting was reserved for the deeply uncool Continue reading “A different way of looking at things”
Fiction is a strange beast when you think about it. Made-up people in made-up worlds doing made-up things, and yet they have the power to make us laugh, cry, think, flinch, or just go to bed early to catch the next few chapters of their adventures. My own compulsion to read has puzzled me for a long time. I know I don’t feel right if I haven’t got a good book on the go. It doesn’t have to be fiction. I’m not exclusive (although, I admit, most of the time I am).
Why do we read fiction? Escapism, entertainment, sanctuary? If you are anything like me, you might feel there is something necessary about it, but perhaps like me also, you feel it instinctively though you’d be hard pushed to explain exactly what it is. Research on the psychology of reading fiction suggests that Continue reading “Why do we read fiction?”
‘Do you know what the lady is going to do, Harry?’
‘Yes, mummy. She’s going to do the test to see if I’m sexy.’
‘Almost, sweetie. It’s to see if you are dyslexic.’
True story. Oh how we giggled. But it isn’t a laughing matter for the kids and adults affected.
Even in this world of alternative technologies, the written word is still central to how the world functions (or how the world ends given the current battle of juvenile tweets between power-crazed despots). It has certainly Continue reading “The Sexy Test”
There is no more valuable a gift than a book that makes you laugh, cry or think
It has been an interesting year of books. For (almost) the first time, I’ve read several novels by people I know. Either in person or virtually (although some of those virtual relationships are as strong as friendships in real life). I find it nerve-racking, those first few moment with the first few pages, sussing out whether it is going to be a book I’ll love or one that will do nothing for me. I feel a responsibility to enjoy the work of the people I like. Which doesn’t always happen. But when it does, it is wonderful.
Like Maria Donovan’s Chicken Soup Murders. Aside from the fabulous title, it was obvious from the opening that it was beautifully written. I read it immediately after Joanna Cannon’s fabulous The Trouble with Goats and Sheep and it compares very well. Or Chris McQueer’s Hings which had me laughing, cringing and spurting my tea out of my nose (often at the same time). Continue reading “2017: A year of reading and writing”