Sweet Caress by William Boyd: an interesting failure

Key issues about this book:

1. The fiction in an autobiographical style was interesting, but not particularly attention-grabbing
2. No character grabbed me (apart from Amory's brother and sister, from whom I would have liked to have heard a lot more as they have more interesting lives) and they all seem distant. Amory was written in a very 'thin' manner, with no substance to her, which was disappointing.
3. Amory is defined by the men in her life and makes lots of really important decisions on a whim and for selfish reasons
4. The photographs in the novel are excruciatingly amateur and a waste of time
5. The story is packed with cliches - e.g. the lover's wife being in a wheelchair, the blackshirt riots, the war pieces, the hippy community crisis and the undeveloped incident with Marlene Dietrich
6. Boyd writes Amory's sex scenes as if she were a man, sigh ...

Not one I'd recommend.

5 out of 10 stars

Anne Brooke Books

Daffodils, coconuts and literary comparisons

Book News:

Some nice news about my fantasy novel The Gifting this week. First of all, for a couple of days, it was my bestselling ebook at Amazon UK, and then the lovely Nithu gave it a 4-star review at Goodreads, and even compared my hero Simon Hartstongue to the quite magnificent Thomas Covenant from the bestselling Unbeliever Chronicles series by Stephen Donaldson. Well, gosh, excellent company indeed! And even more heartening as in my teens and twenties I was a huge fan of Thomas Covenant and I like to think my Simon is in some way the next development of that kind of character.

To add to my successes with Bluewood Publishing, I'm equally pleased to note that today my most popular Amazon UK ebook is historical short story Dido's Tale. Hurrah, you go, gal!

Also today, you can find me at TWLIB Reviews with an article taking a look at the concepts of love and obsession in fiction - all visitors welcome and let me know what you think! Love certainly makes the world go round, for better or for worse ...

At Vulpes Libris Reviews, you can find my review of Simon Van Booy's literary novel, Everything Beautiful Began After. It's certainly a beautiful beginning but I fear the finish is rather disappointing, sad to say. I suspect he's more a short story writer than a novelist, but that's only my personal take on the book.

And I'm very happy that my money from the ALCS author funds has come through for this year, so that's a nice little boost to the bank balance, hurrah, and thank you.

Oh, and this week the Surrey Advertiser has interviewed me about the Guildford setting in gay short story The Heart's Greater Silence, and sent a photographer to take a shot too, so I'm looking forward to seeing that article in print at some point. I only hope they understood me as I could barely understand myself, with all the coughing, snuffling and sneezing ...

Life News:


For most of this week, I've continued to be ill, though I did make it into work on Monday (probably a mistake, as it then took Tuesday to recover ...). I'm feeling a lot more normal (ha!) now though, and heartfelt thanks to some very helpful Facebook friends who've suggested some high-quality catarrh/vomiting remedies. A BIG thank you to you all, as I really seriously needed some help! I'm definitely stockpiling everything I can think of ready for the next nasty bout of the wretched beast.

Also this week, Lent has begun. I was toying with the idea of giving up teasing my husband for Lent, but he is still laughing hysterically at the notion that I might last more than 30 seconds in the attempt (such marital confidence, eh!) so I've decided, along the lines of last year, to give up worrying instead. Much healthier, in my opinion.

Recent Nature News has been that the blue tits finished the coconut bird food we'd hung from the apple tree in the front garden - and then very cunningly angled the empty shell towards us so we could see that they needed more, and soon. Clever, clever birds ... Thankfully, K rushed to replace it so we are no longer in danger of being dive-bombed by half-starved birds when we leave the house. Phew. And today, we have our very first daffodil in bloom in the garden. Double hurrahs and hang out the bunting! I hope some daffodil friends come and join it very soon, but in the meantime we are both still hugely excited by the delights of nature.

Tonight, K and I are off to Woking Theatre to see Yes Prime Minister, so we're looking forward to a few laughs and some political irony in order to round the day off nicely.

Anne Brooke
The Gathandrian Trilogy
Gay Reads UK
Biblical Fiction UK

Fluffy pink gloves and punch-in-the-gut fiction

Ye gods, but I have worked like a dog today. A dog with a particularly difficult owner and no chance of a bone. My noble attempts to get the minutes done this morning were thwarted by the Professor worrying about bids and deadlines, and by the Registry wanting me to collate online documents into neat packages so they could worry about them in smaller chunks. Which I did whilst staring blearily at the computer screen and wishing my reading glasses were here already. Honestly, I think I'm going to invest in some matchsticks to keep my eyes open. And functioning.

In between all this, I did actually get the first draft of the minutes done. And on my boss's desk for checking, hurrah. I also managed to fit in a very pleasant tea & mince pies session at Student Advice at 3pm. Where the lovely Natacha - the new Student Advice staff member - told me she'd like a package of all my novels in the New Year and please could they be signed also. Of course!! Heck, you don't even have to ask - I will be delighted to sign whatever you want, m'dear, and will probably declare undying affection for you and a sudden urge to have your babies also. These requests don't come often, as you can see!... Not only that but Norma also kindly presented me with a pair of fluffy pink gloves and a woolly pink hat, as apparently she is desperate to get me out of navy and black. I hadn't realised I was quite such a dark and shady character across the campus as I stride around at lunchtime muttering to myself. Perhaps I'm scaring the students away?? Anyway, thank you for the influx of colour into my life, Norma - I'm feeling spring-like already.

And shock news of the day - Ruth's husband went in for a haircut after his boozy work lunch (always an error, I fear ...) and the barber misheard his request for a "Grade 5" as a "Number 5", so he now has a partial skinhead look. Which will make his role in the panto this year that much more interesting ... Ah well. Good to get the Christmas disaster over with early, is what I say.

At home, I have just finished the latest edition of Brittle Star magazine - fab as usual. It's one of the ones I really enjoy getting. I particularly liked Graham Mummery's "and He rested on the Seventh Day from all his Work" for its business cynicsm, Graham Fulton's "Chihuahua" for its classic scenario of mis-communication and Paul Campbell's "Guy on the moon" for its charm and simplicity. But it was the piece of short fiction by Sarah Passingham called "Ironing it better" which blew me away. It was so good, real and bleak that I actually started crying at the dinner table, was forced to stop, regroup, put down my cutlery and enjoy the punch-in-the-gut sheer bloody strength of it a second time, this time without eating. Which of course made me cry again, a situation which Lord H tried to improve by putting his napkin on his head and pretending to be a Mohican. Hmm, maybe we should get out more? Or possibly stay in more, so we frighten people less ... Anyway, Lord H's trick worked, but the feeling of Passingham's piece is still with me now. Fabulous.

Oh and Scott Pack has blogged about the two new Mighty Erudite poetry collections here - a thread which is well worth a read. He loved one and hated the other, which I can understand though actually I think both collections are wonderful for very different reasons. As I've said on the thread, I thoroughly enjoyed editing them. I'll certainly be buying both and look forward to reading them again without my "professional" hat on.

Today's nice things:

1. Fluffy pink gloves
2. Laughing at skinhead hairdos
3. Reading Passingham's work.

Anne Brooke
Anne's website
Goldenford Publishers

Packing and heavy TV

The usual twitchy day prior to travel - is everyone like this, or is it really just me? There's something about a journey that makes me very unsettled. Possibly because I hate flying and I do actually hate travel - but it will be nice to be in Madeira tomorrow. At least it won't be ruddy snowing, though showers are forecast. Hell, I don't mind - it will be warmer. So I've made a start on the packing though the fear of forgetting something remains. And the new airport rules are making my head ache. Of course water is no longer allowed so we'll all be at dehydration's door by the time we arrive, no doubt! And my hand-luggage size allowance is not, I'm sure, what they'll be expecting. The trick of travelling light alludes me.

Lord H has spent all day tacking his divorce essay for theology class and also doing his self-assessment for last week's presentation. I have provided wifely proof-reading consultancy, so I have not been entirely unuseful. I've also finished the ironing, so wife points galore are, I'm sure, being showered upon me.

As for me, I've spent the rest of the day catching up with things I've recorded from TV. This means I have now watched all three hours of "The True Voice of Prostitution", "The True Voice of Rape" and "The True Voice of Murder". All true stories (obviously), but voiced & played by actors. Gripping, and really heavy, viewing. The one that had me sobbing like a baby was Lesley Sharp's (great actress, btw) portrayal of a mother whose daughter was murdered. Devastating stuff. And an eye-opener to one such as myself, who has been fortunate enough never to have had direct experience of any of these ordeals, but who writes about them in all my fiction. Sometimes at the same time. It's a weird feeling when real life breaks in to the world in my head.

Tonight, while Lord H is at theology class, I think I'm going to watch the drama, "Recovery", which I also videoed from some time ago, but which I've never got round to watching. And as it's a drama starring David Tennant and Sarah Parrish, it should be hot stuff. I think they're great together. Again, possibly not pre-holiday viewing, but what the hell.

And I've finally got round to writing a poem about the glorious picture that hangs on our living room wall opposite the sofa. I bought it some time ago for Lord H's birthday, and I love it:

L’escalier blanc: Nicholas Verrall

White steps lead upwards
to a greater light,
the shadow fading
on each slow rise.
On the left, pink bougainvillea drift
in an unfelt wind
while the pots on the right
are dappled with sunshine.

I do not see
what is beyond the topmost pillar
but already I can sense
an opening out,
a chance to shake off
the shadows’ grasp
and taste the warmth of the sun
as it sinks into skin.

All journeys lead through shadow
to an unknown light.
Only the choice of timing
remains.


I also feel a little guilty about not doing anything to "The Gifting", but I'm hoping the break will bring me back refreshed so I can at least get Simon across the water into his last scenes. Which I suspect will be long ones.

And I've had some interesting and really helpful comments responding to yesterday's blog - so thank you to those who responded. I also had my first equally interesting experience of making the decision not to accept a comment or two, as they were not helpful to me, but possibly more helpful to the contributor. I do feel a little raw about it, I must admit, but at least it means I am exercising some sort of control over what I do and what I do not accept. A lesson for life indeed ...

As this will be my last blog until after my holiday (which ends next weekend), I hope you all have a great week wherever you are and whatever you're doing. Take care.

Today's nice things:

1. Watching serious, and gripping, TV
2. Writing my poem
3. Looking forward to my holiday.

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com

Lunch with Julia and gay fiction writing

Quite a nice day at work today. For a Monday. Managed to look like a professional for most of the time and even get a few emails sorted. The good news is that I won’t have to come in on Friday after all, as the meeting scheduled for then has been postponed till after Christmas. Hurrah. Suits me, sir. And I looked like a young, cool person by taking in my new iPod and dropping it into the conversation every five minutes. Any conversation. At last! - I have a gadget that nobody else in the office has got. The sad thing of course is that any vestiges of coolness I might have been able to snatch at are washed away by the sort of music I actually downloaded onto the damn thing: um, that will be The Seekers, Tony Christie, the Monkees and a bit of Mozart. Ah well, I never was a rock chick. Even when young … Anyone want to know the way to Amarillo?

Lunch with Julia was grand, although Chancellor’s was packed with exam-demob happy students, so we were crushed into a corner on the bar facing the crowds. I had the same food I always have, but h. there’s a comfort in familiarity, you know. Actually, it’s been one wild social whirl this afternoon – I also popped into the Advice Centre’s Christmas do for a mince pie and a coke. Last of the great party animals, eh? In spite of being a social coward, I had a good conversation with the Deputy Dean of Students about writing and novels, and how the h. one does it all. I think I’m more of an organic writer than a high-powered planner to be honest; when I’m at the top of a page, I never know quite what’s going to happen at the end of it. What a contrast to my usual timetabled-to-the-point-of-obsession daily life indeed …

I’ve also been thinking today about why I write gay fiction – it’s a question posed by Clayton on MySpace (http://www.myspace.com) and it’s certainly a good one. I can’t give a logical reason (sorry, Clayton …) but it’s simply where I feel most at home. I don’t actually know what girls think (query: did I miss that lesson at school?...) but the man in my head (ah hello, Michael – I wondered where you’d got to) knows what he thinks all the time, and why, and I feel most fully alive when I’m plugged into him and his concerns. I suppose that, once again, it’s something organic and instinctual. I’ve been asked many a time why I don’t write from the point of view of a straight girl – and I’ve tried to fit in with what people seem to want (believe me, I’ve tried!) – but I’m never really happy with it for myself, although “Pink Champagne and Apple Juice” has been well received in the small circles it’s found itself in. But, hell, even there I gave that novel a strong secondary gay male character to make myself happier. I just don’t feel comfortable doing “straight” as a genre; it’s simply not “me”. I hope that makes some kind of weird sense. And, yes, I do realise (I’ve been told often enough!) that the fact that in my everyday life I’m a straight female makes it almost impossible to sell the books I produce. But, in the end I’m writing for me first and foremost, and for self-expression, and the rest of the game will have to play itself out as it may. Brave words, eh?...

Tonight (back to the mundane here), it’s shopping at Tesco, and a TV slump. Thank goodness for a night in.

Today’s nice things:

1. Lunch with Julia
2. Thinking more deeply about why I write
3. Showing off my iPod!

Anne Brooke
http://www.annebrooke.com
http://www.goldenford.co.uk