Monday, 23 December 2013

Max Egremont, Forgotten Land: Journeys Among the Ghosts of East Prussia, Alan Bennett, An Uncommon Reader

Was convinced I must have read Forgotten Land already, but it wasn't on my shelves!  The groundwas  covered in Norman Davies' Vanished Kingdoms and Anne Applebaum's work though, so maybe that's why it seems so familiar. Managed to avoid straying into a romantic yearning for a lost Prussia while explaining the motives of those that do. A bit chilling in places when reminded that there are still Germans who refer to the old DDR as 'Mittel' rather than 'Ost' Deutschland. It's interesting to speculate on what the future holds for the Russian half of East Prussia; ethnically mostly Russian now, but an enclave with Belarus and more in between. Will it stay in Russia? Move towards Germany? Become an independent Republic of Kant?, 'An Uncommon Reader' was a cracker; I read it in one session on the exercise bike laughing out loud when the Queen asks the Cabinet if they've ever read Proust.

Just getting ready for Christmas at the mo; after his birthday and all the parties Fred has been in a present and party cake frenzy since late November. In the last entry I said he didn't seem that interested in story books, but Helen bought him some Horrid Henry which he has loved. 

Friday, 20 December 2013

Rose Tremain, Merivel: A Man of his Time, Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett, The Spirit Level: Why Equality is Better for Everyone, Clive King, Stig of the Dump

Merivel was a nice bit of throwaway historical fiction set in the Restoration. A class up from Simon Scarrow. Naturally I agreed with every word of The Spirit Level, even the  bits I didn't read or didn't understand, because it reinforces my prejudices about inequality being a BAD THING. Similarly, all the rebuttals of it are WRONG as they are politically motivated. Obviously I'm joking to an extent, but it does show how little we use facts (or I do anyway) to form our opinions, and how much we use them to back up already formed prejudices. Luckily of course, Reality has a Liberal Bias. Stig of the Dump was fab, wish I'd read it when I was 8 when mucking about in rubbish dumps and making camps and hunting squirrels would have been the best way to spend a summer holiday . Have tried to interest Freddie in a book rather than a picture book, but he doesn't seem ready yet. Also of course, I so rarely do his bedtime as Libby is so insistent on me looking after her. Apparently she spent all of yesterday telling Helen that she liked everyone except Helen. 'Like Bea. . . Like Daddy. . . Like Luke. . . Like Gemma. . . Not Like Mummy, Mummy not sleep with me, Daddy sleep with me'. Helen bribed her with chocolate last night to stay in her bed. It worked, and I had the first whole night's sleep in my own bed for weeks. The precedent has now been set. . .

Tuesday, 3 December 2013

Arthur Conan Doyle, The Return Of Sherlock Holmes, Ken Livingstone, You Can't Say That: Memoirs , Simon Scarrow, Sword & Scimitar, Tom Fort, A303: Highway To The Sun


Some easy reads for a change! Nothing about Habsburgs, Scandinavian murders or cartographical inspiration. Reading Sherlock again made me think of all the classic detective fiction I have never read - nearly all Agatha Christie's, Maigret, Peter Wimsey. Maybe that'll be a them in the future. There's still a load of Inspector Montalbano to read though, and I promised myself to read more Van Veeteren. . . Maybe it is time for a Kindle so I can read while putting Libby to bed! At the moment I'm in the room with here for up to an hour. I don't mind as I can sing songs to her and browse the internet, and sit down for a bit. I do wish she would let me sing something other than the Thomas & Friends theme tune or 'The Wheels On the Bus' though. I'm not even allowed to riff on a theme. Any deviation  from wheels/round, wipers,swish, mummies/chatter, daddies/say "don't do that" is immediately met by a forceful 'NO!' from Lib and any hopes of her settling are gone as she sits up ramrod straight to protest the indignity of being forced to listen to incorrect verse.
Ken's memoirs were as subjective as you'd expect, but politically I can’t think of much where I disagree with him other than Foreign policy. I'm not as ready as him to accept the Spanish claim to Gib, the Argentinian claim to the Falklands and the Palestinian claim to the Holy Land; but that probably reveals my Little Englander tendencies rather than being an internationalist. On everything else - economics, education, transport, health. . . I'm with Ken, a s shining example of an electorally successful unashamedly populist unashamedely left wing politician.  'Sword & Scimitar' was set in the Great Siege of Malta, and was formulaic tosh. I went to see Simon Scarrow talk at Woking Library and found him very engaging, so thought it might be worth a read. The Great Siege is crying out for a great novel or, even better, a great film. Finally, the A303; an ode to a road. It was a fun read, but seemed incomplete; the A303 starts nowhere just outside Basingstoke and finishes with a whimper as a side road in Somerset. All the way through it seemed as if it was the story of part of a journey rather than the whole journey from London to the south west. Maybe the A30 for a companion piece?

Tuesday, 12 November 2013

Morrissey, Autobiography, Jean-Yves Ferri, Rene Goscinny, Albert Uderzo and Didier Conrad, Asterix & The Picts, Jerry Brotton, A History Of The World in Twelve Maps


There's been a lot of alternative covers for Moz's autobiography floating around, see here http://www.theguardian.com/music/gallery/2013/oct/16/morrisseys-autobiography-15-alternative-front-covers
My favourite was the one that read simply 'Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me MeMe Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me  Johnny Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me Me'. Skirts over the time of The Smiths, and more time is dedicated to the court case and how Moz was the victim of the biggest injustice ever witnesses in a court of law. Mostly score settling and myth peddling, but the early chapters on his childhood are written with beauty and Moz's normal disregard for truth. 'Asterix & The Picts' is the first book produced without the sole involvement of Goscinny and Uderzo, but since the death of Rene Goscinny the stories have been iffy anyway, even if the illustrations remain faithful. Anthea Bell is on translation duty again, but it didn’t seem to have the same amount of genius punning and ambitious landscape/cityscape pictures of the early books.
It's getting dark by 4 o'clock now, but we're still cycling back with lights blazing. I'm really keen to keep it up although it's a logistical ballache. Helen can't really cycle down in the morning now she's expecting so I have to drop the bike at Gemma's first thing in the morning before heading for a run/the gym.

Wednesday, 23 October 2013

Michelle Paver, Dark Matter


A book in a day, it's been a while since that happened. It was only a wee novella , but it kept me gripped through my cycle in the morning and then finished off in the evening while Helen was out at dance class. A ghost story set on Spitzbergen, and written as a journal, so had the immediacy and shared paranoia of Dracula, with the villain of the piece barely appearing, but lurking as a presence.
Freddie is getting more and more confident with his cycling, we go out exploring at night at the weekends now, and our journey back from Gemma's is getting more and more convoluted. Each route or part of the journey has a name: 'St Andrew's Passage' if we go through the council offices, 'The Magic Raindrops' if we go along Victoria Way (there's a sprinkler permanently turned on causing a tiny burst of rain for a second or two), 'the York Road Hideout' if we go through the new development between The Sovereigns and the railway and 'Morrisons Madness' if we go past Morrisons and over the canal on the footbridge. . .
If I take him to school in the morning, we race between the bridges - Bedser Bridge, the 'BAC' Bridge (after some graffito on it), the Tall Bridge and finally the Barn Bridge (The Bridge Barn Bridge?) . It's the best part of the day.

Tuesday, 22 October 2013

Anne Applebaum, Iron Curtain: The Crushing of Eastern Europe 1944-56


I'm sure I wrote a very dull essay on this subject once. It's more of a case study of East Germany, Poland and Hungary than the whole of Eastern Europe, but very interesting and wide-ranging. I really enjoyed Anne Applebaum's books on her travels in Eastern Europe after the collapse of the Iron Curtain, I'd love to go back and read it again. There's a whole bookshelf full of unread books in the study though, including some real corkers; Caro's biog of LBJ, some Hilary Mantel, the Inspector Montalbano novels, Morrissey's newly-published autobography, Peter Hennessy's 'Having It So Good' and hundreds more. Also, if I were to embark on an Eastern European Travelogue, the last volume of Patrick Leigh Fermor's has just been published, which would also mean going back and reading the first two. . .
Reading may have to take a back seat though for a few decades; We went to the hospital on Friday for a 12 week scan, and we are expecting another child in May. No idea how we'll cope, either financially or physically, but my parents managed with three and so do Steve and Jess. At least we have the space for another now. Helen is convinced it's a boy, as it feels like Freddie did, and Freddie would like to call the baby 'Starwars' if it's a boy. He's very excited by it all, but Libby doesn't get it yet. She seems quite affronted by the suggestions that there is a baby in Mummy's tummy, when it's obvious to everyone that Baby (her dolly) is there in the buggy.
Ella, Amy and George were christened on Sunday, and Ella kindly asked me to be her godfather. That's 5 godchildren now, not bad for an atheist wastrel.

Monday, 7 October 2013

Oszkar Jaszi, The Dissolution of the Habsburg Monarchy, John le Carré, Our Kind of Traitor


Most of both of these read on an epic train journey from Woking to Cardiff for Paul Shah's out-of-season 40th Birthday celebrations. The Severn Tunnel was shut, so 3 rail replacement services, hour-long waits at Bristol Parkway and Shrewsbury and lots of time for reading. I'm far too old for the carnage of Cardiff After Dark though, I serendipitously met up with Clay in the station car park and whined about my longing for a comfy chair and wine rather than shots and loud music and vomiting in chip alley.

Monday, 30 September 2013

David Peace, Red or Dead


A fictionalised account of the life of Bill Shankly. Took a while to get into the repetitive rhythm used to convey shankly's single-minded obsessions. Sometimes descended into lists of fixtures and scorers and there's a danger of being taken in by the emperor's new clothes, but I loved it and it kept me gripped, even more so than The Damned United. Given that Peace's football novels are meant to be his weak link, his other work must be pretty special. It's on the wish list. . .
Libby's had chicken pox recently and got used to me sleeping on the floor in her room to comfort her, which is now standard procedure! If I try and move she shouts 'Daddy Sawyer! Daddy Sawyer!' until I'm back in my place. She won't let me call her anything other than Libby or Elizabeth at the moment. A few days ago I called her 'Boo', and she indignantly declared. 'No! not boo! Libbymarysawyer!'
Fred has competed in his first running race too, he did a 1K at Alice Holt as I was there for a 10K. He seemed to really enjoy it, and I want to encourage it without pushing. I'm so proud of him for how he manages to cycle back through a busy town every day with only the occasional wobble. He's getting fast though - and tall. He really does look like an amalgam of Gareth, me, Steve and Kev. I still get confused and call Kev 'Fred' whenever the two of them are in the same area.

Thursday, 5 September 2013

Barry Cunliffe, Europe Between the Oceans: 9000 BC-AD 1000



Fernand Braudel was namechecked quite often, and his spirit was ever-present in this sweeping history of a continent over 10,000 years. The Roman Empire just a blip, much more emphasis on 'pre-history' and the thriving cultures and communications links that pre-date classical civilisation and were based on the three 'oceans'; the Med, the Atlantic and the North Sea/Baltic.  We've just got back from a week on the Isle of Wight, staying just outside Newport on the Medina. Obviously I'm now a sailing expert having spent nearly 48 hours on a boat last April, so was confidently striding round the harbour giving my valued opinion to all. We spent an awful lot of time at a lavender farm, which was a beautiful spot, like Cold Comfort Farm at the end of the novel.
Fred and I built a Lego X Wing Fighter as our holiday project; obviously it’s been smashed up and fallen apart and we've lost Jek Porkins' blaster already. For the last couple of nights I've been using  the Star Wars Lego to act out Ep IV as Fred's bedtime story. Pretty sure Helen wouldn’t be happy If I bought/assembled a couple of AT-ATs and Bespin Cloud City out of Lego to enact The Empire Strikes Back. My story would really have benefited from a Lego Death Star though. . . .

Friday, 16 August 2013

Michael Chabon, Telegraph Avenue


'An Oakland Middlemarch'. Took me a while to get into, but was hooked by the end. The opposite of 'Kavalier & Clay', which I was immersed in from the start and then came to an underwhelming and rushed conclusion. Gran's funeral was on Wednesday, so it's a bit of a strange time, but we've been able to formally say 'Goodbye' now.  The kids were too young to be involved, so it would be nice to do something like plant a tree or dedicate a bench that they can attend and have something to remember Gran. 

Wednesday, 7 August 2013

Marc Morris, Castle: A History Of The Buildings That Shaped Medieval Britain


Gran passed away last week a few days after she left hospital to go into a Nursing Home. Have seen lots of Mum and Dad since just so we're all together, and Dad seems to be coping ok. Gran left a notebook full of the story of her life, which is heartbreaking. It begins 'If only I'd been born a boy'. Her Father wouldn't look at her when she was born apparently, as he only wanted a boy. How very sad. I've said I'll transcribe it after the funeral. M&D asked for us to put together some memories for the funeral, these are mine:

As children, it was wonderful to have grandparents so close by and to have them as such an integral part of our lives. We were so very lucky to have Gran there when we were growing up. We loved having Gran babysit us, and playing Monopoly or Knockout Whist, or endless rounds of Newmarket with her. Once a week we would go to 13 Hatch Lane after school and it was always a treat. We'd have biscuits from the green biscuit tin, play in the coalshed, the greenhouse and the garden and then a wonderful roast dinner with the best roast potatoes  followed by perfect custard for pudding. Gran would start each meal by declaring 'What do we want?', to which the enthusiastic response was 'Clean Plates!' We still use this at family mealtimes today!
 We'd spend Saturday mornings with Gran and Ben too playing in the park, or on Ben's allotment behind the village hall, or collecting conkers from the vicarage garden. When we went into school on Monday we would have to draw our  favourite thing from the weekend and those Saturday mornings always featured.
Gran and I appeared in the local paper in 1977 having planted a tree on Moor Lane, which in later years was pointed out whenever we passed it. It's wonderful to think that a sapling we planted 35 years ago is still there and thriving amongst all the change in the village. In recent years we've always consulted Gran when we need gardening advice and her love of flowers and nurturing plants has been passed down to her great grandchildren who love to be out in the garden, getting dirty digging and weeding.

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

Jerry White, London In The Eighteenth Century: A Great and Monstrous Thing, Henry Treece, Swords From The North, Tom Fort, The Grass Is Greener: Our Love Affair With The Lawn, Jake Arnott, The House of Rumour, Peter Ackroyd, London Under, Derek Miller Norwegian By Night, Adam Hopkins, Holland, Rachel Joyce, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry


The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry was very moving, and a few times even caused what Freddie calls 'Goosepingles' to appear. The story of a retired Middle Englander who receives news from someone who affected his life profoundly twenty years previously that she is dying. He cannot think of what to write to her that expresses his feelings, and so rather than post the terse 'sorry' letter he has written, walks straight past the postbox, then past the post office, and then keeps on walking to the other end of the country to see and save Queenie Hennessey. Along the way he has time to think about his life, his regrets and his relationship with his family. At the same time, so does his wife at home. I'm not doing this justice at all, but it was a wonderful book. Swords From The North is one of the few books concerned with Harald Hardrada. He must be due a biography, but looks like there are very few resources to draw on, so fiction is the way to go. How strange it seems that someone whose name is so well known is so unknown. Tom Fort's The Grass is Greener was a reread, based on my current lawn obsession. Since reading the book, there's been a heatwave that has meant the grass hasn't grown, it has instead been bleached into straw by the sun and is dying on its erse. The rubber paddling pool even managed to burn its kidney-shaped outline into part of the lawn somehow.
We went camping in the New Forest  for the second time this weekend, and this time it was dry and hot rather than wet and freezing. The kids loved it, although it was stuffy in the tent. Next time we'll take more mozzy repellent and also some decent tent pegs - the ground was concrete. Any excuse for a trip to the camping shop. It's so hot I've been thinking about emptying out the summerhouse, inflating the airbeds and letting Freddie sleep out there. Now the holidays are about to start maybe we'll give it a go!

Friday, 21 June 2013

Henning Mankell, the Troubled Man, Tom Holland, In the Shadow of the Sword, Naomi Alderman, Liars' Gospel, Marc Morris, The Norman Conquest, Keith Ridgway, Hawthorn & Child


Have left it far too long, there's definitely books missing from the above list. My 'to read' bookshelf is now overflowing with goodies, but I just can't stop buying books. I was online yesterday debating whether the £20 it would cost to get a copy of The British General Election of 1983 from New Zealand was worth it, or whether it would be better spent on the biography of Philip Snowden that is unaccountably in Arkansas. It was very sad to read the final Wallander book, and Mankell's uncompromising last pages when Wallander's descent into loneliness and Alzheimers are starkly set out will stay with me for a long time; Helen felt the same.
Marc Morris' book had enough in it to make me buy his 'Castle' book, obviously the sandcastle influence. In the meantime, we've been to Brittany and Normandy on holiday which feels like it will go down in our memories as a golden holiday; Fred learnt to ride and to swim without armbands! So proud of the little fella; on the first day he was saying he couldn't ride at all, and by the end of the holiday he was tearing around the campsite and along the corniche. He's riding to school every day now too.
Dad bought us a lawnmower as a moving-in present following on from the lawn care service, and mowing the lawn has become mildly addictive. I've bought Tom Fort's 'The Grass is Greener' to reread. My gardening is still limited to the destructive elements; mowing, weeding and the like, but I'm trying to expand my repertoire. The garden just looks and smells so lovely. It really is different every day. The Sextons obviously knew what they were doing, although they'd be horrified if they saw our levels of incompetence! Next up is trimming the hedge. . .
Libby is still somewhere between a viking berserker and a Tasmanian Devil, albeit one with pretty dresses and beautiful flowing hair. At the weekend I heard Helen shout 'No Freddie! Don't give Libby anything she could use as a weapon!' Fred had naively given her a spoon, an instrument that Libby could kill a Rhino with. Yesterday she ran headlong into a trolley at Morrison's, and the trolley definitely came off worst. Libby just stood there for a moment, and like Sean Fitzpatrick against Ireland in 1992, took her metaphorical gumshield out, spat out the blood and gore from her gob and then just scrummed down again.

Tuesday, 7 May 2013

John Lanchester, Capital, David Salsburg, The Lady Tasting Tea; How Statistics Revolutionised Science in the Twentieth Century, Stella Gibbons, Cold Comfort Farm, David Niven, Bring On The Empty Horses, Erskine Childers, The Riddle Of The Sands, Nate Silver, The Signal & The Noise


Two stats books, although neither was a patch on David Luff. Nate Silver is a bit of a liberal hero at the moment for calling the results of the Obama election and upsetting Fox News with his insistence on using data, but he's not doing anything spectacular. Fox are just upset that facts appear to have a liberal bias. Since the last entry, Fred and I have been sailing the Solent through snowstorms and freezing temperatures, and summer has arrived. Fred coped very well with sailing, although him and the other kids spent much of the time below decks, and it's persuaded Helen to go camping next weekend - we're going to spend a night in the New Forest to see how we get on. . .  .
Cold Comfort Farm and Riddle of the Sands were rereads, and just as brill as ever. RotS obviously inspired by sailing. Next up maybe the 39 Steps. .. .

Thursday, 7 March 2013

Bernard Donoughue & GW Jones, Herbert Morrison; Portrait of a Politician, Dodie Smith, I Capture The Castle, Philip Mansel, Constantinople: City of the World's Desire 1453-1924, Rose Macaulay, The Towers of Trebizond, William Dalrymple, Return of a King; The Battle For Afghanistan


Leaving aside the first book, there's been some themes running through recent reading. 'I Capture The Castle' and 'The Towers of Trebizond' are written by authors with similar backgrounds writing at similar times about fictionalised younger versions of themselves. Both were wonderful, both were so funny and so arch. There's something very romantic about the remnants of the english ruling class in poverty/in search of a role after the Great War upset the natural order of things. How wonderfully quixotic to live in a castle with absolutely no income or means of providing for one selves other than relying on the goodwill of faithful retainers (I Capture The Castle) or attempting to convert the Turk to Anglicanism as the British Empire collapses and Ataturk's secular society is modernising Anatolia (Towers of Trebizond). The latter links in neatly with Mansel's History of Ottoman Constantinople, the most eye-opening part of the narrative being his convincing distinction between 'Ottoman' and 'Turk', both meaning very different things rather than the synonyms we often take them to be. 'Ottoman' meaning above nationality, multi-ethnic, cosmopolitan but very much Islamic, with 'Turk' as a national term, heterogeneous, defined as against Greek, Albanian, Kurd, Armenian,etc and suspicious of Constantinople as un-Turkish, unlike Ankara and Anatolia. This was particularly true with the ascent of Ataturk and the moving of the capital. Mansel also wrote 'Levant' which I read recently, and both read as laments for the lost, cosmopolitan, multilingual, tolerant societies of the Near East. Surely it can’t have been as wonderful as he suggests, and certainly the ethnic, religious and linguistic tensions have always been simmering away in the Levant.
Dalrymple's book on Afghanistan concentrates on the First Afghan War, rather than events since, and it's hard to read without picturing good old Flashman. It's probably fair to sum the whole thing up with that cracking line from The Princess Bride 'Never get involved in a land war in Asia.'
Since the last update Libby has had her 2nd birthday and now owns a scooter too. She loves it and insists on travelling on it everywhere, despite being unable to steer or stop. The long trip home has become even more interesting as a result. Fred is very good and patiently waits, but he's such a proficient scooterer now he glides through town looking very elegant, and there's always the worry he'll scoot off out of sight while I'm trying to wrestle Libby into the buggy, or juggle her, her scooter, the bags, the buggy and the food shopping.

Wednesday, 16 January 2013

Peter H Wilson, Europe's Tragedy: A New History of the Thirty Years War, Peter Høeg, Miss Smilla's Feeling For Snow


Bookcases installed and filled!  Downstairs there are three full Liatorps and a half Liatorp, plus a corner Hemnes. I've spent most of my spare time recategorising and moving things about to get the right balance between similarity, aesthetics and practicality (different shelf heights). Life at the moment revolves around children's parties; I haven't managed a run since the Great South in October, and I have a half-marathon in a few weeks. In the week we have a new pick-up routine which seems to be working; I head down to nursery to pick up Libby first. Normally this is walking, but I had Fred's scooter last week and almost killed myself and several bystanders by scooting far too fast down White Rose Lane and attempting to stop by jumping off. What an idiot. After picking up Lib, who is so chatty at the moment and has new words all the time, mostly related to food, violence or the assertion of possession, we take the buggy up the hill, singing 'Wheels on the Bus' on the way. Lib does the 'Gangnam Style' horsey ride dance when I sing 'The Freddies on the bus go 'Gangnam Style!''. Then we pick up Fred from Gemma's, which always turns into an event with their wonderful whirling sofa that spins round. Luke and Fred seem to get on so well. They had a playdate on Sunday and then a party; Freddie seems to be turning into a real little boy, with a little gang  running round causing chaos.
Freddie's favourite game at the moment is 'wrap and sandwich' which involved him and Lib pretending to be cheese and salami and getting wrapped up in a blanket and then lying on top of a pillow, having another pillow put on top, then Libby, then another pillow. I've been writing a joke for him every day too to encourage his reading. A Sample is 'What flies and wobbles? A Jellycopter!'
After pick up from Gemma's we have a scooter race back through the town centre. Normally this involves stopping at the ice cream parlour, Starbuck's, the Library, the cookie shop or similar. He's getting really quick now, I have to really run to keep up. He's been out on his bike a few times too with me holding the handle.
I struggled with the history of the Thirty Years War, 800 pages of battles and politicking. At the end of it I couldn’t tell you the first thing about that messy period. Miss Smilla was the book that kickstarted the Nordic noir genre in the UK. It seems very familiar now with the dark brooding atmosphere, but must have seemed very new at the time. The early part on the book is set in Copenhagen, and after The Killing and Borgen it eas like reading about an old friend. When the action switched to a ship and then later Greenland I got disoriented; outside the comfort zone. . .