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?

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.

 

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.

How words get good

We take a break from Kate vs Showbiz, for a quick trip to Stratford Literary Festival.

One of the best things to come out of our writing efforts, is that we’ve taken to visiting literary festivals. I’m still proud that we actually appeared at one (was it really 2016?) but mostly have enjoyed going along and listening to other people.

A busy calendar precluded my literary entertainment for either of us this year, but I did manage to fit in a lunchtime session called “How words get good” by Rebecca Lee.

Based on the book of the same name, the author has worked in publishing at Penguin Press for over 20 years – and this is the distillation of her experiences.

Basically, if you want to know who does what and how in the book world, then it’s an excellent read. Working in publishing, it’s especially interesting to me as the truth is, I fell into my job and don’t know that much about the nuts and bolts other than the bits I look after.

The festival session provided an excellent taster with some fun anecdotes, but mainly served its main purpose, propelling me towards the bookshop!

The book is a bit like a rich chocolate cake – lovely, but I read it in short chunks as I don’t want to gobble too much down in one go.

Along the way, we get to look behind the curtain at how things are done in the book world. For example, did you know that James Patterson doesn’t write his own books? Apparently, he maintains a stable of ghost authors to whom he delivers a detailed plot outline, and then provides feedback as they knock out the words. I guess that in the publishing world, this is well known, but not among the readers.

There’s also an explanation of the various roles in a publishing house showing how each hones the text until it becomes a finished product. The way I describe it sounds very dry, but this is a very readable book, perfect for anyone who likes books in more than just a casual way.

Personally, I was fascinated to reach this entry, spotted in the index:

Parker, Phillip M., and his 200,000 books. 58-59

It seems that Mr Parker (not me, I only have one L, and my middle initial is S) has a computer that writes books for him including the epic Containers of Fromage Frais. Good for the Amazon receipts, but surely lacking soul…

 

 

Merry Christmas!

Traditions – where do they come from?

Phil: Every year, when the Christmas decorations come out, I open a box and build a pair of Lego Elves.

I’ve done this every year, for, ohh, four years.

Yes, it’s a tradition. Just not a very old one. My annual trip to London for beer with some mates usually left me with spare time before we met up and once I accidentally ended up on the Lego store. There, I thought it would be nice to buy a Crimbo decoration, and the first was the Elves.

Since then, a bauble with Lego presents in has joined the tradition, and another small Santa who looks a bit creepy. Each is dismantled after the season and made up again in December. Sadly, Covid has put a stop to beers, but the elves continue.

The world is full of traditions. La Nolan always watches Nativity in the run-up to the season. Others drape themselves with greenery or go out singing carols at inocent people.

Traditions quickly take hold and you are told “This must happen, it’s traditional.” That’s why officials in the House of Commons wear weird clothes.

Of course, all these traditions had to start somewhere. They weren’t traditional once upon a time. I suppose, like my festive Lego, they provide something familiar in an ever changing world. A comfort blanket perhaps.Christmas is especially full of tradition – and every family has their own, from who gives out the presents, to the food served at different times to the post-lunch games (or not).

Me? I like harmless traditions. To which end, I decided that if I can’t go to London, I can still add to my festive Lego collection.

 

Well, it’s traditional – innit!

Sidenote: This is our 900th blog post. While the writing might have taken a bit of a back seat recently, we keep plugging away with words. Practise makes perfect after all.

Aren’t librarians helpful people?

Phil: A few weeks ago, I mourned the loss of the library I used to visit as a child. Well, last night I took a trip to the replacement.

Part of a “community hub”, it is smaller than the old place, but has (I am assured) just as many books. OK, the children’s area is a lot smaller, but there are other spaces in the building that can be used, and anyway, when I was a child, the only children’s area was full of books. No mats and beanbags for storytime for young Phil! (Grumble, brumbe, youth of today don’t know they are born etc…)

Anway, one fascility not currently available, is the magic machine that checks books in and out. It seems that the new machines haven’t arrived yet, despite the project to build the place taking a couple of years. That was awkward, because I was there to return and renew the books I borrowed from the old place.

Despite it being 20 minutes to closing time, one of the librarians took my books into the office and did it all for me. If there was a fine to pay, nothing was mentioned.

She then went on to check and renew my account, hopefully so I can finally use the on-line renewal system.

I think it must be in a librarians’ DNA to do this. Presumably something checked at the job interview.

Someone pointed out that libraries are the last public space you can enter wehre no-one expects you to spend any money (unless you really want to). I guess that must appeal to people who just like helping others with something as important as reading, and searching for knowledge. And long may it be so.

You’re probably asking why there isn’t a photo of the library at the top of this post, well, it was too dark for the building and I don’t like taking shots of the inside while there are people there.

However, as part of the new hub, there is a cafe. So I bought some cake (it’s compulsory for this blog) and chose the one that looked like a muffin with the poo emoji on top. It’s actually a choux bun with chocolate, and very nice too. A definite asset to the library.

Worse, for my waistline, to get there I have to pass a fish’n’chip shop. The aroma on a dark evening explains why I enjoyed a chip buttie for tea…