The Last Romantic

What is the link between this photograph and the wonderful English novelist,
Elizabeth Taylor, whose centenary is currently being marked by an on-line Readathon? I'll be back later to answer this question!

New Year, New start?

I'm sure that most aspiring writers would agree that seeing something you've written in print is a lovely way to begin a New Year, and I was certainly cheered when the latest 'Silent Companion' came through my door yesterday, containing a short story that I've tinkered with for years (latest title, 'A Ghost's Story for Christmas') and compensating for my woeful failure last year to interest any agent in my novel. Receiving the magazine also, of course, gave me the opportunity to read some excellent stories by friends. I'm lucky to know some very talented writers, many of whom deserve wider recognition for their work and some of whom are enjoying publishing success, always encouraging news.
The 'Silent Companion' is the journal of A Ghostly Company, a delightful society for afficiandos of the ghost story that I joined a few years ago and with whom I've enjoyed some superb weekends, touring, amongst other places, parts of East Anglia associated with the master of the genre, M. R.James. (On a trip to Aldeburgh a few years back, one of our group managed to whistle up a storm, quite literally, in a tour de force that surprised us all, but that's another story.) I'm posting a link to the society in the comments box. New members are always welcome, and non-members are welcome to buy the magazine!

Nostalgia

Caption: The Courtship of Snapperty

Surely I cannot be the only person who grew up in the 1950s who remembers the charming children's book, "Snapperty the Spider"? It was first published in 1956 by Lawson & Dunn, and was written by John de Quincey, an author of whom I know nothing other than that he penned this delightful tale. Here, we see Snapperty, the garden spider, whose mother taught him to make (or 'knit') a web, despite the tradition that dictates webs are the province of females ("Two purl, one plain, Three purl, one plain..." we hear him saying to himself), falling in love with a beautiful lady spider whom he will later marry. A nasty shock, however, awaits him on his honeymoon......erm, well he is a male spider after all!

Still, this is a childrens' book, and I'm pleased to report that, despite the arachnid odds, a happy ending awaits....

Virago Modern Classics

Here's another bookshelf; this time my collection of Virago Modern Classics out in the conservatory (although any sharp eyed book bloggers might spot there's a non-Virago there, far left, top shelf, reason being that I wanted to put the hardback copy of Violet Trefusis's 'Broderie Anglais' that I'd found next to the Virago edition of 'Hunt the Slipper'.

The two shelves represent a mix of books waiting to be read, those waiting to be read a second or third time (I never tire of Elizabeth Taylor) and a few that I may never have time to read again but which I cherish for the gorgeous covers almost as much as for the content. The two I read most recently are at the top (they would be in the middle of this text, except I seem to be too technically inept to do that! Shame on me.)

Anyway, could there be a better marriage of cover and text than those images from the work of the quintessentially, quirky English painter, Sir Stanley Spencer and the quirky eccentric, utterly engaging writing of Barbara Comyns? It's unsurpassed, in my view, and I'm sorry to say I've been very disappointed by some of the recent Virago covers that have appeared lately, the cover for the new edition of Comyns 'Our Spoons Came From Woolworths' being a case in point. The new cover shows a photograph of a young woman with two dogs on a lead and tells us almost nothing about the book other than hinting at the period in which it is set (and why dogs, I wonder, when the heroine of 'Our Spoons Came from Woolworths is devoted to a newt called Great Warty?); the old cover, a detail from Stanley's Spencer's 'Marriage at Cana' is far more indicative of the mood of the book, with all its picturesque incidents and off-the-wall, wry humour.

I'm sorry to say that I frequently fail to buy the new Virago's because of my aversion to the bland new covers, preferring to go without until I can locate one of the lovely old Virago Modern Classic editions, with their painterly covers. (And they seem to be getting increasingly difficult to find these days!)

My New Novel: The Witch-stone or 'I, Morgana'

So far, I've managed to complete 30,000 words of my new novel, and I've sent this 'partial' off to the Romantic Novelists Association New Writers Scheme, a wonderful service that's provided me with a life-line over the past few years, along with Birkbeck College's creative writing classes and another writing class at the lovely Mary Ward Centre. Still no sign of an agent who wants to take on my first novel, 'The Practical Woman's Guide to Living with the Undead', so I'm cutting my losses and forging ahead with the new book this autumn.

Once again, I'm writing a book with a paranormal theme, although this time, it's witchcraft, not vampires. The first chapter begins on a lonely moorland, where a young girl, Jeanie Gowdie, has been taken to pray before a stone, known as the witch-stone... It's all very menacing at first , as her mad Presbyterian father, the owner of the cheerless Knox Hill Guest House, insists that she must never repeat the sins of the ungodly women who were once 'justly punished' in front of the stone, but then Jeanie remembers the words of her wise, hedge-witch grandmother, "Your father's beliefs have as much worth as a blast of gas from a cow's backside" and, after that, she recovers her equilibrium.....

Books contd./Persephone meets the Gothic

My spare bedroom has just had a magnificent makeover, thanks to two talented friends, and, as a result, I now have some new bookshelves to add to the overspilling bookcases that grace almost every other room in the house. It was fun deciding which books to display in such uncluttered glory, and I chose the eclectic approach. Thus, my cherished collection of lovely dove grey Persephone books (Dorothy Whipple, Katherine Mansfield, Monica Dickens etc.) is elegantly arranged between the complete set of Lemony Snicket's 'Series of Unfortunate Events' and three of Tom Holland's Gothic/supernatural novels, including The Vampyre, and on the top shelf, A Dance to the Music of Time is happily wedged between Paul Magrs's 'Never the Bride' sequence and Susanna Clarke's 'Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell'.
I love the books produced by Persephone Press. If I had unlimited resources, including shelf space, I'd buy them all. I used to keep my Persephone Books in the conservatory, under the shelves where I'd placed my collection of green Virago Modern Classics, as seemed fitting, but with the new shelves, I was inspired to move them and let them mingle with the Gothic. I'd love to see Persephone meet the Gothic in real terms--it would be great, for example, to see a Persephone edition of the ghost stories of Cynthia Asquith or Rosemary Timperley, but I have the feeling that isn't going to happen; the supernatural isn't Persephone's bag (although they have published Marghanita Laski's time-slip tale 'The Victorian Chaise Longue'.)
Nevertheless, thank goodness for Persephone and the sterling work of Nicola Beauman in rescuing the writers who have 'fallen through the cracks' and who merit reprinting. The shop in Lambs Conduit Street is a rare haven, and I spent two delightful hours there last night enjoying a 'Possibly Persephone' evening--literary discussion (what book would you like to see reprinted by Persephone?), Madeira, and bread and cheese. Sheer perfection and long may it continue!

Lower Loxley Will Never Be The Same Again

So that's it then. On January 2nd, 2011, sweet, romantic lovable toff Nigel Pargetter fell to his death in what was, depending on your point of view, either a thrilling dramatic moment (and I must congratulate actor Graham Seed on that scream!) or a cynical piece of over-the-top and utterly unnecessary hype to 'celebrate' 60 years of The Archers.

I am devastated and not a little perplexed. Why celebrate the anniversary of the programme by killing an amusing character who loved his wife and children? Why Nigel some of us are asking? If anyone had to die, (and arguably no-one did) why not despatch self-obsessed, control freak, Helen Archer once she'd given birth? And what's going to happen to Lower Loxley now? If all the rumours about the hidden agenda behind The Archers are correct, then perhaps we will see the once-stately home turned into a birthing clinic for single women like Helen who have chosen to dispense with romance and relations with men altogether and have babies by artificial insemination.

Oh dear.....I am, as it happens, the same age as The Archers and the same age as Graham Seed (who was dismissed from the programme at such short notice, against his wishes), so perhaps I'm being over-sensitive, but I'm not the only person to feel outrage. The forums where this programme is discussed are incandescent with fury, in fact, the previously pleasant Archers Addicts site is seething with malcontents and there have been three letters of bitter complaint in the Radio Times.

On January 2nd 2011, Ambridge was due to be shaken to the core, and thus the makers of The Archers broke faith with their audience, shooting themelves in the foot in a spectacular fashion for the sake of publicity and ratings. They lost the plot with that clunky, contrived episode. According to Vanessa Whitburn, the imperious editor of The Archers, listeners were supposed to feel mixed emotions; sadness at Nigel's death, and 'relief that Helen was all right after developing pre-eclampsia. The problem was, no-one liked Helen much, so no-one cared about her, whereas Nigel's death prompted anger and disbelief. What did Miss Prism say about the good ending happily and the bad ending unhappily? Not on The Archers, I'm afraid. Helen's egotism and her unpleasantness to poor Tony (her kindly Dad whose only crime was to suggest it was a shame her baby wouldn't have a father) has been rewarded, and Nigel's been punished by being improbably pitched off the roof of Lower Loxley. It might as well be a tragedy by Thomas Hardy.

January 2nd 2011. The day The Archers died.