Maybe Tomorrow by Penny Parkes

Phil: Post-pandemic fiction is going to be a thing. We all lived through two of the strangest years anyone can remember with the exception of those who can recall the early 1940s.

Penny Parkes sets her novel in almost the current day. Its protagonist, Jamie Matson, is a single (through choice) mum struggling in a job that doesn’t pay enough to live on. She frequents a foodbank, and through this, acquires a small group of friends.

The whole “working poor” aspect is the crux of the book. That and the lack of a future to look forward to for many people. As the story builds, it could be quite depressing, especially if you are living the hope-free life described.

Fortunately, this being a book, Jamie chances upon an opportunity to become a housekeeper/carer for an elderly couple, Henry and Ruth. Both think she is there to look after the other, but their desire to help people, and the reason for it is gradually revealed.

In fact, gradual reveals are a big part of the book. Jamie’s son, Bo, is described as “different” and a genius artist. Bo is her world and in making sure he is OK is pretty much the only thing Jamie considers. Fortunately, the new home, friends and especially Henry, help him both mentally and physically.

Gradually, the group move forward. Most are looking for jobs, any jobs, in the wrong place. Their passions have been abandoned on the altar of simply paying the bills. Jamie’s backstory includes running her dream, a travel agency for single parents, which involved much travel. Covid killed it, and it seems, although this isn’t entirely made clear, her business partner. She still sees the shop, and it still pains her.

Obviously, she’s not the only one with a difficult backstory. There are deaths, a seriously abusive husband and more business closures making the friends into the people they have become. Even Ruth and Henry have their issues, which gradually develop as the tale unfolds.

This could have been a very depressing book. Were it real life, I suspect it would be, but then no one would buy it. As it is, this is a tale of hope, and a tale that really makes you think. For what appears on the face of it to be a light chick-lit book, there’s a lot of depth here. None of the 513 pages is wasted, there’s no fat in the text, and many times I was identifying with different characters, and also thinking “there but for the grace of god go I”.

And I’d like to be Henry.

Jigs and Reels by Joanne Harris

Phil: Short story collections are, sadly in my opinion, out of fashion at the moment. Bucking the trend is Chocolat author, Joanne Harris.

Jigs and Reels presents 22 different short tales. Subjects vary widely, although there are a few stories with a sci-fi feel, and many exploit that genre to comment on current-day issues by extrapolating events to a logical conclusion.

As is common with short stories, there is a twist at the end of many of them. If you remember the TV drama series Tales of the Unexpected, you’ll feel comfortable with the idea. Mind you, the twist would be ruined if you could see the characters – books are better in this respect than TV!

The book is a real showcase for Ms Harris’s writing abilities. Nothing has the feel of a first draft that will one day be expanded to become an entire novel. Quite the opposite, the length of each one varies a lot, none outstay their welcome, nor do they vanish too quickly.

Reading some stories, it strikes me that they are based on some serious research. My guess is that the author fell down the Wikipedia rabbit hole when looking something up, and found herself inspired to craft the new knowledge into a story. The research is never worn on the sleeve though – these are interesting tales, not opportunities to show off.

Jigs and Reels is great fun, and a perfectly light read between longer books. One that can be dipped into as and when you feel like it. Keep it on the shelf and open at a random story when you need entertaining for a few minutes.

The Man on Platform 5 by Robert Llewellyn

Phil: Have you ever looked at the blurb on the back of a book, and thought it might be about you?

Two posh girls, Gresham and Eupheme, are sitting on a train at Milton Keynes station when they see a trainspotter: a pathetic, badly-dressed saddo with a terrible haircut and a worse anorak. The two are half-sisters and have always fought: now their argument rages over the trainspotter. Is he doomed to eternal nerdiness or could he be taught to appreciate the finer things in life? Eupheme bets he can: in time for Gresham’s engagement party she will have transformed him into a man that her sister would fancy…

Ian Ringfold is the trainspotter, and the story is in essence, a modern(ish) version of Pygmalion (My Fair Lady if you must). Eupheme plays the Henry Higgins character throwing money at Ian to turn him from a saddo (in the sister’s opinion) to a dude. By the middle of the book, she has pretty much succeded, and then he starts to turn the tables on both women.

There are some good jokes in here, starting with the title – Platform 5 is the brand of train spotting books full of numbers waiting to be crossed out.  Also, some howlers for the nerds to spot. You don’t take the locomotive off a High-Speed Train and replace it with one from the sidings (you can’t split the set of coaches and loco easily) and when Ian talks about visiting London’s Horticultural Halls to visit an exhibition of model railways, aeroplanes etc. the show, called IMREX, was toy trains only. Trust me on this. I was there.

It’s set in the mid-1990s, when the Internet (then with a capital I) (OK, World Wide Web) was in its infancy. Eupheme might work as a big-shot charity fundraiser, but she doesn’t use the web, or e-mail, and doesn’t really see the point. For the nerds, there are plenty of brand name drops too. I didn’t check the types of techy kit mentioned, but assumed the author had got it right, but did find myself a little nostalgic about a mention of Evesham Micros, who I remember well advertising on the page of Micro Mart magazine.  For the fashionistas, there are plenty of clothing brands given a namecheck. I didn’t check these either. Candice can tell me if these are right when she reads it.

There’s bucketloads of celebrity name-dropping. Llewellyn’s Red Dwarf co-star Craig Charles plays a small part late in the story and there’s also a very short appearance from Chris Barrie from the same show. I did wonder if you have to ask a real person before they appear in your book? Kirsty Wark quizzes Ian during a girlie lunch at one point, and I suspect that she does really know what trainspotting is.

Underlying the story, is the thought that Ian might be being changed, but does he really want or need to change? Why do posh, rich and pretty girls, both of whom live chaotic and somewhat disastrous personal lives, get to decree what is, and what isn’t, acceptable?

Maureen Fry and the Angel of the North

Phil: When I first picked this book up, I assumed it was a slightly crude cash-in on the film, The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry, which has just been released ten years after we first read the book it is based on.

That story followed Harold, who decides to hand deliver a card to his dying friend Queenie. By walking. Hilarious (and somewhat unbelievable) japes ensue.

The author, Rachel Joyce, followed it up with The Love Song of Queenie Hennessy, which tells the story of their relationship (they were colleagues and she loved him, but never said anything) from Quennies point of view. To be honest, I think is the better of the two books. More believable than Harold Fry, and does a good job of describing the feelings you can have for someone you work closely with, but can never reveal.

Anyway, along comes the film and we have a short novel, 127 pages, centring on Harold’s wife, Maureen.

She goes on her own odyssey, by car this time, to visit a garden Queenie built before her death, at the seaside. There, she believes there to be a shrine to her and Harold’s son, David, who died by suicide due to a combination of stress and drugs.

David’s death has affected the couple in different ways – Harold went for his walk, but seems to have got over it. Maureen is eaten up by anger. Anger at Harold. Anger at the world in general, and especially, anger at Queenie, for being someone Harold cared (platonically) about.

And to be honest, this is a very angry book. Yes, there is resolution at the end, but most of it is taken up by rage, and an awful lot of detailed description. It’s a bit of a relief to get to the end and relax.

I’m sure there is commercial sense in this book, and it does neatly tie up all the characters’ lives. I’m not sure I could say I enjoyed reading it, and am glad it was short. Maybe if you want an insight into the way suicide affects those left behind, it does the job. But I suspect if you leap into it from the film, you’ll struggle to imagine that nice Penelope Wilton in the text.

Times change – thankfully

Phil: It’s a funny old world. Facebook reminded me that it’s two years since the great bogroll shortage. Two years, and it’s already receding into our memories.

Having a blog allows for interesting looking back. A couple of years ago, we were getting into the first Covid-induced lockdown. At the time, we had no idea what was ahead. The press was full of doom, the government were flailing around with limited data and none of us know what the future looked like, or even if there was a future to look forward to.

Candice wrote how it all seemed like an apocalyptic science-fiction story.

I tried to be funny, and then stopped again.

When people bang on about the war, they often say it’s important not to forget, and that’s a little bit true about the pandemic. OK, it’s not fully over, but most of us have managed to get back to our normal lives. Although there is a facemask in my bag and the pockets of my most-worn jackets, it takes a very busy train for me to put it on. When I spot someone masked up, it now seems unusual.

Another part of me wants to forget. It was a horrible time. I remember walking by kids’ playgrounds locked up and covered with tape instructing youngsters to stay away. There were rules that most of us stuck to. Sitting in the Nolan garden, clutching an umbrella in the rain, chatting through her patio door because I wasn’t allowed in the house wasn’t exactly a high point, especially now we know that those in charge had decided the same rules didn’t apply to them.

“May you live in interesting times” is (according to Google) a Chinese curse, and having lived through some, and still living through others, it’s easy to see what they mean. Interesting times are best kept for novels and films. I’ll stick to boring ones, where I can relive those moments as memories.

The Tea Ladies of St Jude’s Hospital

Three unlikely friends. One chance to save the community. It might just be the perfect blend…

The Marjorie Marshall Memorial Cafeteria is at the heart of St Jude’s Hospital. Staffed by successive generations of dedicated volunteers, for over fifty years the beloved cafeteria has been serving up a kind word and sympathetic ear along with tea and scones.

Hilary, the stalwart Manageress, has worked her way up through the ranks; Joy, the latest recruit, is driving Hilary mad by arriving late every day; and seventeen-year-old Chloe, the daughter of two successful surgeons, is volunteering in the holidays and bemused by the older women.

But when they discover the cafeteria is under threat of closure, the unlikely trio must put aside their differences. As they realise the secrets and sorrows they have in common, the women grow closer – but can they bring the community together and save the day?

Phil: Here’s an interesting problem. I enjoyed this book – it’s an undemanding romp and fun along the way – but all the time I was puzzled. Where was it set?

St Jude’s Hospital is the obvious answer. But where is this? Which country?

It’s one where they spend money in dollars. Healthcare is a business, but the money has the Queen’s head on, and people aspire to work for the BBC.

For a long while, I wondered if this was a British book that had been partially translated to an American scene (the dollars bit). It wasn’t until the end that there was mention of thanking the Australian publisher – of course! That would also explain the house with storage space underneath it too. Not something we tend to have in the UK, and if we do, we call it a cellar.

The other issue is that the main characters are all really interesting women, but we don’t really get to work that out until halfway through the story. OK, we figure out that Chloe doesn’t really want to be a doctor pretty early, but her endless water-guzzling had me assuming some sort of eating disorder, which it wasn’t.

Hilary has suffered a divorce, and more importantly, a fall from grace, when her husband (who turns up very briefly late in the book) turns out to be bankrupt, their life of luxury being a sham. Her relationship with her sister is fascinating, and a little under-explored. She also can’t use email, which infuriated me as I think someone who lived like she did would be a lot more tech-savvy.

Finally, Joy is really the centre of the story, and we learn of her loss and how she deals with her late husband. This was possibly the least satisfactory area – she talks to him and seems to interact, but we eventually learn this is all in her head. I like my narrators to be honest with me, but this might just be my very literal take on things.

Despite reservations, there’s a fun book here. I just wish someone had put a kangaroo in the first few pages so I knew where I was.

 

Merry Christmas

Traaaactor!

Phil: This is the trouble with writing. One minute, you are sitting in a nice, warm office chatting about ideas for your first novel, and the next (OK, 12 years later) you find yourself waiting around in the cold for the local Young Farmers group to pass with their festive tractor run.

The thing is, since writing the tractor chase in Kate vs the Dirtboffins, I’ve got a bit interested in farm machinery. Not as interested as I am in trains. Or boats. But I have collected a small number of models of the Lanz Bulldog tractor, hero of the chase. And I find there is something about the different types of tractor over the years that appeals to the nerdy part of my brain. I’m pretty sure I never envisaged this when writing chicklit!

And the festive parade was brilliant. Roll on next year.

The Keeper of Stories

She can’t recall what started her collection. Maybe it was in a fragment of conversation overheard as she cleaned a sink? Before long (as she dusted a sitting room or defrosted a fridge) she noticed people were telling her their stories. Perhaps they always had done, but now it is different, now the stories are reaching out to her and she gathers them to her…

When Janice starts cleaning for Mrs B – a shrewd and tricksy woman in her nineties – she meets someone who wants to hear her story. But Janice is clear: she is the keeper of stories, she doesn’t have a story to tell. At least, not one she can share.

Mrs B is no fool and knows there is more to Janice than meets the eye. What is she hiding? After all, doesn’t everyone have a story to tell?

A little break from the continuing saga of Kate vs Showbiz to review a book both Candice and I have enjoyed recently.

Janice is “just” a cleaner, and a remarkable individual. Well-regarded by her numerous employers, she is married to a man who can’t hold on to a job and has a few secrets of her own.

Meeting ex-spy Mrs B, the stories Janice has collected from people she works for and occasional snippets heard on the bus, start to come out. Much of this revolves around Mrs B telling her the tale of “Becky”, a courtesan who knew the Prince of Wales (as in Edward and Mrs Simpson) among others. Becky lived a hell of a life but always drove her own future. This helps to galvanise Janice to do the same.

The Keeper of Stories is an enjoyable read. If I’m honest, it starts slow, and only Candice telling me it was good kept me going, but by halfway through, the plot is moving, and I was snatching time to read another chapter – the sign of a good book.

The ending is pretty much how you’d like it to be, and I don’t mean this in a bad way. A couple of plot twists (one of which is after the story has finished) are dropped in at the end, serving to tie up loose ends and allow the reader to believe all will be well for a character that they will have grown to like.

As a character, Mrs B is interesting. When we first meet her, she is cantankerous, but it’s obvious that Janice is going to end up close to her and that without her, there would be no story. You could argue that there are a couple of handy coincidences, without which, the plot could be a lot grimmer, but this is a feel-good book, even though it takes some very serious subjects in its stride.

 

Kate vs Showbiz – Chapter 39

In the ladies, Tracey stared into the mirror. Tears ran down her face. The make-up that had survived the rain now ran in streaks down her cheeks. She slapped the tiled walls and cried with frustration and anger. How dare Kate have a go at her? She’d always talked about taking risks and thinking outside the box, but now she was getting all prissy about the show. All that work and now her boss was going to kill it all because she was worried about what a few stuck-up people thought.

The door opened and Sandy from accounts started to come in. Looking at Tracey, she quickly decided her bladder could hold on for a few more minutes and swiftly exited again.

Tracey sat on the floor. The cold of the tiles helped soothe her mind and gradually she got herself together. Some dabs of toilet paper along with the handwash restored her make-up so she didn’t look like an understudy for the rock band Kiss. A couple of minutes with the hand drier made her hair a bit drier, even at the cost of extra frizz.

Looking at her reflection again, she took some deep breaths and headed out of the door.

The office was quiet as Tracey walked through, heading back to Kate. Sandy had obviously filled them in and several people looked and then turned away hoping she hadn’t seen them staring. She hadn’t. The only thing she could see was Kate’s door. She marched in without knocking and pushed it shut behind her.

Kate and Gareth looked at her. From their expression, she guessed Gareth had been playing peacemaker, but Kate still looked angry.

“Oh, you’re back are you? I thought you’d.”

Tracey cut her off. “Yes I am.”

“Well?”

“Well, we are going ahead with this.”

Kate crossed her arms. “Oh no you’re not. We do NOT organise porn shows here.”

Tracey drew herself up to her full height and looked Kate straight in the eye. “It’s not a porn show. It’s a good night out for a load of women. Women who are up for a good laugh. Women who like a night out with their mates. If you knew anything about women, you’d recognise a good idea when it came along.”

Kate looked shocked, “What do you mean, ‘if I knew anything about women’?”

“I mean normal women. Women who have mates and blokes and like to have a laugh. Come on Kate, you’re not as prim and proper as you like to make out. Surely even you like a bit of eye-candy. Well, even if you don’t, lots of other people do and you know what? They are happy to splash the cash for it, and that’s what this theatre needs. Councillor Dhaliwal says we just have to run one good, big, profitable show, and the place will be saved.”

“You mean fill the place with slappers.”

“They aren’t slappers. They are normal women who want a good night out. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’ve done the legwork. I know how much we could make and if I’m right…”

“If you are right”, Kate interrupted, “because you are the great financial genius. I’ve heard you moaning you can’t balance your credit card some months. What makes you so sure you can make the numbers add up this time?”

Tracey stood her ground. Gareth looked distinctly uncomfortable, but looking at his colleagues, he decided to try and calm things down. “Look. Ladies. Kate. I know Tracey has done a lot of work on this. I’m sure she can show you what she’s come up with properly. Maybe I didn’t explain it quite right.”

Kate said “Oh, I’m looking forward to a full explanation. I’m sure Tracey has loads to show us. Let’s just hope it amounts to more than just a collection of oily blokes’ torsos.”

Tracey smirked. “Oh yes. I’ve got plenty of those, but Ash, I mean Councillor Dhaliwal has given me the numbers to back all this up. We’re working on a plan to win the culture committee over when they meet next.”

“So you’re off to a council meeting to try and persuade them are you? Well, perhaps I better come along too. Someone better be ready to sort out the mess.”

Tracey gulped. “You want to come to the meeting too?”

“Well, it is MY business you are dragging into all this.”

Gareth coughed.

Tracey looked defiant. “Fine. I’ll put it in your diary and you can join us on the night. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it.“.

With this, she turned on her heels and marched back to her desk, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.