We're going on a tomb hunt

White boar pendant on a chain of suns and roses

Following the news that the remains of Richard III will most likely be buried in Leicester (though I'm sure the arguing in this is far from over despite the results of the judicial review) there's some speculation as to what his eventual tomb will look like - the next set of plans are due to be unleashed on the public within the next few weeks, previous suggestions have left something to be desired. Inspired by this we thought we'd spend the day looking at genuine medieval tomb with a Richard connection. The tomb in question belonged to Sir Ralph Fitzherbert  and his wife Elizabeth and is in Norbury church near Ashbourne in Derbyshire.

It's a beautiful church that you find with luck and a sat nav tucked away amongst a maze of single track roads buried in deep embankments and cow parsley (so basically very easy to miss) and turns out to have not only the tomb of Ralph and Elizabeth Fitzherbert, but Nicholas Fitzherbert - all of them have very fine effigies. There are also the remains of a couple of carved Saxon crosses which suggest the site had a much earlier church than the one currently standing (the oldest bits of this one date from around 1300), a really bizarre alabaster slab with an incised effigy of a woman in her shroud (it looks like a body in a sack) which represents Benedicta the disgraced wife of a Tudor Fitzherbert (he said she had a vile and lewd character and went off where it pleased her, he clearly didn't please her at all) and some stunning medieval stained glass.

detail of a Bedesman with a rosary at Sir Ralph's feet

Ralph Fitzherbert's tomb is significant in connection with Richard III because it's the only one remaining to show a knight wearing a white boar pendant, his armour is also interesting (he died 2 years before the battle of Bosworth) it's been reproduced as a fully functioning suit (to be fair I'm more interested in the idea that somebody somewhere has this thing to dress up in than the actual details of how it's buckled on and the like). Coincidentally it's also probable that it's made from exactly the same stone as the lost tomb of Richard III's would have been as Derbyshire was the local source for alabaster.

The tombs are interesting, definitely as good as any I've seen and certainly live up to the claim of being amongst the finest in the country but what I wasn't expecting and was therefore even more impressed by were the windows. So much medieval stained glass has been lost either through being deliberately smashed or just through general wear and tear that seeing a whole lot of it is something of a treat. The Norbury windows are extraordinary, the very helpful church warden said that some pieces were only 2 millimetres thick (English heritage have done a rescue job and double glazed the lot so it's safe) it's survival really is remarkable.

From a distance the grisaille stained glass doesn't look particularly special (actually it looks a bit grubby) but close up it's exquisite and has the added bonus of flooding the church with light, even on a grey rainy day. Stepping inside a church like this is a markedly different experience to the Victorian Methodist and Presbyterian churches that failed to impress me as a child, I can only imagine the effect it had on the average villager back in the 15th century - even more because they would have got the whole lot in glorious technicolour. There were still traces of paint on the alabaster figures that surrounded the tombs, but any plaster the church interior once had was long gone and the ceiling was plain as well, though that too may well have originally been painted.

The Norbury church website is here.

A Day Out

I made it down to London this week (or as my grandfather would have had it - I went up to town), the day had a few of highlights; it didn't rain, I finally made it to the The Soane Museum (I look forward to going again when further refurbishments have been completed and more than ever of it is open) it's an extraordinary place with an unbelievable amount of stuff attached to the walls - one visit is nothing like enough to take it in. There was also time to stop at a couple of bookshops - all the more necessary now that Leicester lacks for a decent bookshop at all. After staring through the window of Foyles in St Pancras (already better than the sorry excuse for a Waterstones I have locally) getting thoroughly over excited in the British Library shop (a camera full of pictures of books to go on my wish list) and a calm browse around Piccadilly Waterstones I felt somewhat revived. I really, really, miss having a decent bookshop within walking distance (I mean what's the bloody point of living in a city centre otherwise?).

My book buying was quite restrained (only 5 books) and all old fashioned crime/thrillers. Just as I didn't know that E. F. Benson wrote horror stories before I found a collection of them, I had no idea that he'd written crime until I found 'The Luck of the Vails' prominently displayed in the British Library (and then again in Waterstones) I expect someone has written a book about all the things I don't know about E.F. Benson and his output. I should probably read it and avoid this sort of shock.

Hammond Innes looked like he might have produced the sort of thing that both myself and D will enjoy if we manage to get snowed in anywhere this winter hence 'Wreckers Must Breathe'. What I'm really excited by though are the British Library Crime Classics. Specifically both the idea that the British Library is rummaging around and re-printing things - the first 3 books in the series are the first 3 books to feature female detectives. A couple of these lady detectives and their authors are familiar to me from 'The Penguin Book of Victorian Women in Crime' so I have high hopes.

 There's a Christmas themed mystery available 'The Santa Klaus Murder' which I definitely want and some intriguing looking titles coming out next year (I'm looking at 'Death on the Cherwell' ..."For Miss Cordell, principal of Persephone College, there are two great evils to be feared: unladylike behaviour among her students, and bad publicity for the college. So her prim and cosy world is turned upside down when a secret society of undergraduates meets by the river on a gloomy January afternoon, only to find the drowned body of the college bursar floating in her canoe. The police assume that a student prank got out of hand, but the resourceful Persephone girls suspect foul play, and take the investigation into their own hands. Soon they uncover the tangled secrets that led to the bursar's death - and the clues that point to a fellow student. This classic mystery novel, with its evocative setting in an Oxford women's college, is now republished for the first time since the 1930s."). Annoyingly it isn't that easy to find out much about this series (by which I mean when I google British Library Crime Classics nothing especially informative comes up on the first page) but just a moments thought about what they have access to - well just imagine it...

Bolsover Castle

It was going to be a reading day but in the end it turned out nice and into a whisky hunting and castle visiting day instead. We went up to Derbyshire which is far more scenic than Leicestershire (in my opinion), had a slightly worrying time following the sat nav instructions (it kept changing it's mind about where we wanted to go which was both confusing and frustrating and there was a crazily steep hill with a lot of sudden bends on it). Eventually though we managed to get safely from Bakewell to Bolsover.

Bolsover looks over the M1 and I must have been past it 100's of times but never until today stopped to have a look. Shame on me because it's beautiful. As it stands it was started by Charles Cavandish, one of Bess of Hardwick's sons (you can just about see Hardwick house) and finished by his son William. They seem to have liked women and horses. It was an unplanned trip so the only camera I had was on my phone which isn't brilliant but here are a few pictures anyway...

Treats

My friend C and I went to London today, ostensibly to see the Northern Renaissance exhibition at the Queens Gallery - it's very good - and something we particularly wanted to see to honour the memory of the history teacher who made the time and subject come alive. Of course there was also some time for shopping so there was a quick visit to Persephone books. C and I also have birthdays in the next couple of weeks so I bought myself a present - I'm so excited about these - the books should be the reasonably light reading I want at the moment and the bowl and jug combine two things I'm quite keen on (Persephone books and Emma Bridgewater). A very definite extravagance but I'm very happy with them - now all I need to do is find them a home.  

Tea with Diana Henry

Autumn with it's mists and mellow fruitfulness (though sadly this year it's more fruitless than otherwise) is when the lure of the kitchen really kicks back in, that there are so many tempting new cookbooks on the market is only further encouragement. My favourite new book of the season so far is Diana Henry's 'Salt Sugar Smoke' that I first wrote about last week. After that post Diana sent me an email - it was one of those rare occasions that feels like a daydream come true; she asked if I would like to come to afternoon tea at her house with about a dozen other bloggers. Would I? Yes indeed I would.

'Salt Sugar Smoke' is brilliant, Diana Henry is the sort of writer I love to read, her books are full of possibilities that go far beyond cooking; food is such a vivid way into other peoples lives and way of life. Books by chefs are all well and good but they are generally more concerned with the mechanics of cooking - I'm interested in the technical stuff, but it doesn't always feed the imagination in the same way that the likes of Claudia Roden and Jane Grigson do when they include all those bits of history, legend, and anecdote. I discovered those two at about the same time - my copies of their books are battered penguin paperbacks that I used to read on the bus. Before that it wouldn't have occurred to me that you could read recipes for fun. For me Diana Henry is very much in this tradition - I have no higher praise to bestow - she really is that good.

It could then have been terrifying to go to her house - I'm not good at meeting new people, especially ones I admire. I'm not to worried about saying anything stupid so much as being able to talk at all. Happily Diana was amazingly welcoming, I still can't quite believe she was willing to turn her kitchen over to a dozen bloggers, but she did and it was a treat. Food bloggers are a slightly different tribe to book bloggers - mostly they have better cameras and aren't afraid to use them. Everything was very well documented before it was eaten which felt mildly surreal from my point of view and makes me wonder if there's an etiquette to this kind of thing along the lines of kissing someone's cheek on greeting?  

I should probably have taken more pictures myself except that I was mesmerised not so much by the food as the books - hundreds of wonderful books, many of them in reassuring piles on chairs and the floor (just like mine) I could have spent hours browsing the titles looking to spot familiar spines. It was a wonderful collection - and apparently only the half of it - I have serious book envy.

The food was excellent, a selection of things from the book which has confirmed my desire to make the fig and pomegranate jam without delay as well as to acquire a suitable bit of salmon to turn into gravlax. Whilst in London I managed to pick up some Quinces as well - they've proved even more elusive than usual here in Leicester - so I also have the very agreeable prospect of deciding what to do with them, it's a bit of a toss up between jelly or a liquor at the moment. Altogether it was a fun and very inspiring afternoon - definitely a privilege to have taken part in, and you can probably guess what most people will be getting from me for Christmas this year.   

Despite the rain

Initial plans for today (made in last weeks sun) were for a picnic at Kirby Hall. Then the rain started and it no longer seemed like a very good idea, but I wasn't going to be done out of the promised treat of a mornings intensive baking - I woke up at half past seven and couldn't stay in bed any longer thanks to the excitement of trying a new recipe, and if that sounds like I need to get out more than bear with me. I've cut down on the baking recently partly in an effort to save money, and partly to eat less cake, which is all good - but I do miss making things and any excuse is welcomed, so before the blonde picked me up today I made spinach and feta parcels, scones, jam tarts, and Queens's Gingerbread...

The Queen's Gingerbread came from Dan Lepard's column in The Guardian, I'm almost annoyed with myself for making this my Jubilee bake because although Dan Lepard is excellent I feel our relationship is becoming a bit exclusive and there are still so many other cookbooks to flirt with (really I do get out of the house sometimes). On the other hand Queen's Gingerbread is egg free (good for L who is severally allergic), highly spiced with flavours that give more than a nod to the first Elizabethan age, and was quite unlike anything else I've baked before. It was also quite quick and easy, goes down a treat with tea, and made a huge amount that's perfect for sharing around.  

After a picnic in the comfort of L's dining room we went to the Astley Book Farm and although both the blond and I were sure we knew the way we managed to miss not one, but two, junctions on the motorway (I blame the rain which made for appalling visibility...) when we finally managed to send ourselves southbound again it was only to go twice round a roundabout before eventually still taking a wrong turn - the back streets of Bedworth on a rainy Sunday are not precisely the spot I'd choose to find myself in. Fortunately L clearly had an accurate (if unflattering) opinion about our ability to get from A to B and had bought a sat nav, ten minutes later we were parked up had managed to stop laughing hysterically, and saw the SALE sign.

The book farm provided bunting, a marquee that smelt of slightly damp canvas and grass, and a very enjoyable conversation about Dorothy Whipple with the owners - I don't think I could have had a better day.

Gingerbread recipe - I fiddled with this just a bit to fit what I had and take into account that none of us are mad about ginger (and I could still have used less)...

450g plain flour

5tsp ground ginger

2tsp ground nutmeg

2tsp cinnamon

a pinch of cloves

1tsp bicarbonate of soda

250g of castor sugar

150g of melted butter

150g each of runny honey and black treacle

75g each of mixed peel, dried apricots, and dates blitzed until well chopped

A good handful of flaked almonds

Line the base of a 20 cm square baking tin with greaseproof paper and set oven to 180 degrees/gas 5. Gently melt the butter, remove from heat and add the sugar, treacle, and honey - mix well.

Throw the flour, spices, and bicarb into a bowl making sure they're lump free, stir in the treacle mix and dried fruits until a nice stiff dough is formed. Press this down into the baking tin making sure it's nice and level  then press in the almonds. Bake for 25 mins until it's all evenly puffed up, remove from the oven and allow to cool in the tin before cutting up. 

     

A grand (and occasionally sort of literary) day out

It's been a wet weekend (in the way that the prelude to Noah's flood was wet) but in-between showers we got a day out in the country. The Scottish one wanted to visit Kirby hall in Northamptonshire, much of it's a shell now but still in a very grand and Elizabethan way - it was used as a set for 'Mansfield Park' (which is the vaguely literary connection). It's a stunning place particularly if you have an interest in architectural history and garden design, the advantage of it being a ruin is that you can see how the building was constructed without the distraction of 400 years of interior design covering it's bones.

However despite the impressive building and grey skies the thing that really impressed me was the huge flock of peacocks (apparently the collective noun is an ostentation) and the noise they made along with the very vocal rookery that surrounds the hall. I spent a lot of time trying to stalk peacocks in which I would have been entirely unsuccessful if they hadn't been quite tame, quite thick, and unable to see what's going on behind them when there tales are spread. The peahens, very dowdy in comparison, have a much more intelligent gleam in their eyes and were singularly unmoved by their menfolk's display. 

On the way back from Kirby we saw another English Heritage sign as we passed through Lyddington - this was for Lyddington Bede house, originally a wing of the medieval palace of the Bishops of Lincoln, but an almshouse from 1600 up to about 1930. This building is pretty much whole but stripped to the bone, the rooms directly under the slates of the roof are particularly lovely - huge unexpected spaces full of their years. The bedesmen's rooms are small but not unappealing, we both managed to find one we felt wouldn't be a bad place to end our days in (if a monastic and possibly damp lifestyle appealed). It took me a few minutes to realise what a bede house was (in our defence we were thinking about the venerable Bede and the bishops palace) but when it clicked I was in Trollope's 'The Warden' Lyddington isn't Barchester, although there were complaints against the warden misbehaving in the 1890's, but this must have been exactly the sort of building he had in mind and it really bought the book to life.

The day ended in Uppingham with tea, cake (very good cake) and a visit to a serious antiquarian book shop. Lots of lovely folio society copies (which were very reasonably priced) and then another league of book - I had half an eye on a 6 volume set of Virginia Woolf's letters from the Hogarth Press. If I liked Virginia Woolf more (at all) and had £300 it would have been very tempting. The Scottish one was eyeing up something in Latin which was the size of a table and priced at £2000 - it seemed like a good time to go home.

So long and thanks for all the biscuits...

If anyone has wondered where I’ve been this week the answer is on a course. The advantage of working in the wine trade is that our courses tend to be all about wine, or in this case ‘Distilling Knowledge A Professional Guide to Spirits and Liqueurs’. The week has been blessedly light on the corporate shenanigans that all the other poor souls on courses and conferences in the hotel seemed to be undergoing. Weirdly they seemed to be enjoying themselves anyway.

The venue was a hotel in the middle of a golf course somewhere in the wilds outside of Reading. All it really had to recommend it was a lot of biscuits everywhere, they were attached to little coffee stations but I’m not counting those as I seem to have inherited my mother’s aversion to hot drinks out of paper cups. The biscuits however were very nice and saw me through the long train journey back.

When I tell people I’m off on one of these things there seems to be an idea that all I’ll be doing is sitting back and imbibing – well in the words of the frighteningly well informed Master of Wine (it’s a real thing) ‘you can swallow on your own time, at work you spit’. Its good advice as well as generally guaranteeing a slightly uneasy laugh at 8.30 in the morning when you’re faced with the first 6 samples of raw spirit of the day. The samples keep on coming (and I spit religiously as well as trying to maintain a lady like demeanour which is I admit all but impossible, and not something I’ve yet mastered – after 12 years). It’s surprisingly hard work and very intense. But fun.

It all ended with an exam, which fingers crossed went okay, but basically all I’ve read for the last 2 weeks is Dave Broom’s ‘Distilling knowledge’ I’m very grateful to Mr Broom for making a frequently dry subject; I’ve struggled a bit to find some of the finer points of barrel size and related legislation really gripping, on the other hand the finer points of how stills actually work is fascinating so it came out alright. Anyway it seemed unfair on a book that’s been such a feature not to give it an honourable mention especially when it’s a good one even if it is a little niche.

A Grand Day Out (again)

Sometimes a change is far better than a rest – I’ve had a really gratifying day in London and feel like a different woman for it; it’s comforting to know I’m only just over an hour away from one of the world’s great cities. It’s also comforting to know that I’m something more than an hour away from more temptation than my credit card and I could handle.

A fruitless search for the Scottish ones projected birthday present was followed by a book bloggers evening sponsored by Penguin. I wanted very traditional whisky tumblers – which apparently no one sells anymore. I tried John Lewis in two incarnations, Liberty, Fortnum and Mason’s... Surely all bastions of the traditional – or so I thought until today. Someone suggested Harrods but my feet hurt and my temper was going at that point. I also thought I was about to get lucky in F&M’s having explained exactly what I wanted – you know, something that makes you think of antlers and tartan and other Scottish clichés. The glasses produced had palm trees etched on them. Palm trees. Not dare I say it either traditionally Scottish or whisky related, also they were £108 pounds each; I appreciate an attempt at switch selling probably more than the next person but NO.

The blogging thing was more successful and not just because of the wine. Meeting other bloggers has so far been an unqualified treat, the author readings were short enough to make me want to hear more (which is the perfect length), and there was a goody bag. I’ve come home with a pile of books I would probably otherwise have ignored and the inspiration to read them (a win) as well as a few I bought. The mini modern classics were an impulse purchase at the train station (please can Foyle’s start a countrywide expansion) and I also got ‘There Once Lived A Woman Who Tried To Kill Her Neighbours Baby’ after Polly at Novel Insights spoke highly of it. (So far as good as it is dark).

My train home ran on time and the bills in the post were balanced by a copy of Pam Corbin’s ‘Cakes’ (thank you Bloomsbury) and now I’m clean, fed, happy, and ready for the rest of the week. Oh and I got an owl money box which I’m really quite in love with – maybe even enough to start some sort of saving.

Tea, Cake, and a Great Day Out

First of all I feel honour bound (after having, though with considerable help from the Scottish one, eaten most of it) to share the details of Mondays very successful cake. It’s basically the chunky Fig Prune and Apricot cake from River Cottage Every day. It was baked on TV Thursday night and the link to the recipe is here. I used ordinary self raising flour and as I’m not overly fond of figs (which is why there’s been a packet at the back of the cupboard in need of use for a while now – I wish I could remember why I bought them in the first place) when I make the cake again, which will be soon, I think I’ll use dates instead. Prunes on the other hand are something I love to cook with and I’m very pleased to have another use for them because there always seems to be half a pack hanging around.

Anyway not for the first time, and most likely not the last, I’m singing the praises of a book from the River Cottage stable though I do think I need to break out and do more than bake cakes – there’s a venison stew that looks good...

Saturday was a day I’ve been looking forward to for a while – a planned day in London where I got to go not only to the Glasgow Boys exhibition at the RA but also meet up with some other book bloggers. We made the pilgrimage to The Persephone bookshop (one small purchase, which would have been very virtuous if it hadn’t been coupled to a few more extravagant acquisitions earlier in the day – all necessary I assure you) and then headed to the British Museum for afternoon tea which was extremely proper (cucumber sandwiches, scones, a choice of tea’s, and little cakes all on a stand – very pretty).

The catalyst for the occasion was a UK visit from the very charming Thomas of My Porch. He bought presents which was unbelievably exciting (as well as extremely generous); and had in fact chosen appropriate American books for everyone; I got Kate Chopin’s ‘The Awakening and Selected Stories’ which I’m delighted with. I’ve read ‘The Awakening’ before but none of the other stories, and have been looking out for more Chopin. Paperback Reader personally recommends one of the stories so all in all it comes with glowing testimonials.

This is the second time I’ve met up with like minded bloggers and it’s been great both times. Normally meeting new people socially is something I’m a poor hand at. For some reason I can never think of anything to say and so generally hang around feeling uncomfortable, fellow bloggers are an interesting mix of total strangers/people I feel I already know. Most of the conversation was about reading which didn’t leave much time for anything else but learning more about the people behind the screen was a pleasure – even the very real possibility of being trapped in a lift with these people wasn’t as awful to contemplate as I would normally fear (don’t use the British Museum lifts, they don’t behave well.)

A Sunday Road Trip

I’ve only had one day off this weekend (finished at 6pm on Saturday, start at 8am on Monday – so early to bed tonight to get up even before the crack of bloody dawn tomorrow) but one way or another it’s been a good one and what’s more has felt like proper time out. The Scottish one came and picked me (and quite a lot of wine – Christmas is coming...) up from work, took me out to the countryside and set me down with Fortnum and Mason's latest catalogue (unbelievably sumptuous, terrifyingly expensive) whilst he cooked. That man is a treasure.

Last night was clear and frosty – the first time I’ve seen stars in weeks - and all the way we drove back out from town to the countryside there were wreaths of smoke from fireworks accompanied by a wonderfully sweet autumnal aroma; quite romantic, and very nice to be indoors by the fire with wine (and Fortnum’s catalogue). Today was equally clear and sunny and far too nice to stay indoors, I could have tidied the garden but we got itchy feet and decided We Should Go Somewhere And Do Something. Given the beauty of the day with its opportunities for getting the last of the sloes for gin making, or a few late apples, or just a simple walk through all the fallen leaves admiring the colours of the landscape we decided we’d go to Stoke-on-Trent.

Whatever else Stoke has going for it, it really isn’t a pretty town, but again the drive up (yes I’m talking about the A50) was lovely with a fantastic sky full of sunlight and clouds (and Ratcliffe on Soar power station but we worked hard on ignoring that). Mum and I used to regularly visit the potteries where she gathered a formidable collection of china, and where we both developed a slight obsession with Emma Bridgewater... Poor Scottish one, no idea where he was being directed and probably no interest in trawling through shelves of mugs, but he dealt with it all manfully. I might have mentioned my love of overpriced, middle class mugs before – but what the hell – here’s another picture because they’re just so nice, and tea clearly tastes much better out of one of these than out of a lesser mug.

After Bridgewater we went to Burleigh Pottery – the really remarkable thing about today was the fact that we didn’t really get lost (just one very minor detour which hardly counts at all...) because all these places are tucked away down side streets behind housing estates, or empty bathroom shops and the like; it’s almost impossible to believe your anywhere near where you want to be. Burleigh was fun too, a big warehouse full of intensely coloured and decorated plates, bowls, jugs, and who knows what else, the overall effect is definitely overwhelming but leaves you in no doubt that there are treasures to be unearthed.

I had a great time and he didn’t complain, so I like to think we both enjoyed ourselves, and I actually feel like I’ve had a holiday which is a bonus because work is going to involve a mountain of stuff to move around tomorrow – anybody would think Christmas was coming.

Out and About

It has been a long, long, week and although I’m glad it’s over I wouldn’t have minded a slightly longer weekend – after a final marathon slog through today I get to look forward to being back for 8am on Monday morning, still that gives me a whole day to ignore housework in favour of reading. I’d better make the most of it.

The highlight of the week was Thursday off, which was also the blondes birthday so we set out for a day of our favourite sport; book hunting. We had heard there was a decent book shop out Northampton way, but when we got there it was to discover that it closed a couple of years ago (damn you internet and your faulty information). In fact Northampton turned out to be a bit of a wash out all round so we headed to Market Harborough. It’s one of those terribly middle class market towns which encourage book groups and consequently has well appointed charity shops. It also has the twin glories that are Christine’s Book Cabin, and Gilberts (it also has an all female fishmongers which I still find vaguely confounding – it feels like there should be a story in it somehow)

Christine’s book cabin is down a side street round a corner and through a car park until you find yourself in a shed full of books. There’s county stuff, nautical stuff, really seriously collectable, and correspondingly expensive, children’s stuff and then bits and bobs of the kind of thing Persephone reprint. It’s an experience.

Gilbert’s is not even slightly book related but It’s been there for 40 years and I’ve known it since I used to be taken to visit my Gran as a child and I think it’s heaven in shop form so I’m telling you about it anyway. It’s a hardware store/kitchen shop; they have everything you can imagine, and plenty of stuff that I for one would never have thought to imagine. The outside (as you can see) is festooned in wicker baskets, and inside is a tiny temple of Cornish wear, burleigh pottery, Le Creuset, and anything else handy. It’s also ridiculously cheap compared to department stores; in short the sort of shop it seems scarcely credible still exists.

Book wise I managed to find Angela Carter’s ‘Shadow Dance’, Sylvia Townsend Warner’s ‘After the Death of Don Juan’, and Robertson Davies ‘Murther & Walking Spirits' – all despite promising (and honouring my promise) to let the birthday celebrant into the shops first and at the shelves first. I had a great day, and I hope she did too, I also had some exciting post when I got home, but more of that later!

A vintage moment

I have a day in London tomorrow; work sponsored no less (I’m en route to training on Wednesday). I’m pretty chuffed about it as it’s rare to find myself alone in London and with time to make whatever plans I like so I’m going to make the most of it, which will inevitably involve some book shopping, but for a change I have a few other places I want to explore – foody sightseeing and a hunt for cake decorating accessories (very inspired by ‘Bake and Decorate’). I’m also very excited at the prospect of meeting a book group friend for the first time – jobs really aren’t all bad after all.

The book wish list at the moment seems to be sponsored by Vintage; I don’t have A.S Byatt’s ‘The Children’s Book’ yet, I’ve been meaning to get Isherwood’s ‘A Single Man’ for months and most of all I’ve just discovered John Cheever and want more. I came across John Cheever when I was browsing Waterstone’s for John O’Hara, they had no O’Hara but the red backed books started to jump out (visually not actually) at me and I ended up intrigued by a Cheever. Further browsing on amazon increased my interest and since then I’ve acquired and read ‘The Wapshot Chronicle’.

Male American writers, even from the fifties, are normally right on the edge of my comfort zone but so far Vintage have come up trumps for me every time. I think I was sold on ‘The Wapshot Chronicle’ from the first line of blurb “Meet the Wapshots of St Botolphs. There is Captain Leander Wapshot, venerable sea-dog and would be suicide...” but if that hadn’t done it I really fell in love on page 11 with this description

“The attic was a fitting place for these papers, for this barny summit of the house – as big as a hayloft – with its trunks and oars and tillers and torn sails and broken furniture and crooked chimneys and hornets and wasps and obsolete lamps spread out at one’s feet like the ruins of a vanished civilisation and with an extraordinary spiciness in the air as if some eighteenth century Wapshot, drinking Madeira and eating nuts on a sunny beach and thinking about the passing of the season, had tried to capture the heat and light in a flask or hamper and had released his treasure in the attic...”

What Cheever does which feels new to me, and I suspect that this is a fundamental difference between the sort of women writers I read and male writers generally, is describe the world around his characters. I’m used to reading about what women think and see, but here I’m reading about what men feel, and physically feel. How things smell, the way that sand crunches underfoot, or grass feels against skin, the taste of a storm in the air – it’s all on the page and every time it’s something I recognise it takes me there. Plot wise it’s a family chronicle along suitably eccentric and gothic New England lines – I was strongly reminded of Shirley Jackson’s ‘We Have Always Lived In The Castle’ in places, but it’s not so much about what happens as the people it happens to and the way they experience the world.

It’s a great feeling to know I’m one book in to Cheever with plenty more to come as well as journals and letters. I’m also particularly pleased to have started with his first book – I rarely manage to do that and it’s pure serendipity this time. If I’m organised (big if) I can follow how his writing develops, which as he won a Pulitzer for it should be a project worth following.

For a first novel it’s a really remarkable bit of writing. Partly based on his own youth in New England, which also inspires me to find out more about Cheever, it’s just so wonderfully rich; characters who should be ridiculous are made real by detail and affection, every landscape and room as real to me as anything as I can remember. The whole affect is almost intoxicating; so perfectly tempered with a sense of loneliness pathos and loss that any danger of nostalgic self indulgence or over indulgence in eccentricity is well and truly avoided. Really good stuff.