Reviews, books and battles

How I love the bank holidays. We've been super lazy today and not done a thing which is bliss. Here's this morning's poem:

Meditation 212

The river
flows into salt,
its freshness lost.

And the tongue
remembers
forgotten languages

forged in wind
and flame
for a while.


I'm really thrilled to say that the lovely Jilly has given The Bones of Summer a very good review on her website today which you can read here. Thanks so much, Jilly - glad you enjoyed the book!

Not only that, but she's kindly put up a five-star review on Amazon UK as well, so double thanks for that also. You can read that one here. So that's a very big smile on my face this bank holiday for sure.

Keeping to the topic of books, I've read Sarah Stonich's The Ice Chorus, which is a very powerful and poetic story about a holiday affair and the changes it brings to the heroine's life. I'm hoping to review it for Vulpes Libris after I've finished tackling my current editing, so I won't say much. But I certainly experienced the whole range of emotions in my reaction to the heroine - sometimes I wanted to slap her very very hard, and sometimes her story made me weep. Goodness me indeed.

Meanwhile I'm trucking slowly onwards with the edit to Hallsfoot's Battle. Interesting how the changes are bringing the focus more firmly onto Annyeke. Which is a good thing, to my mind. Lots more to come however, so we're not out of the woods yet.

This afternoon, I caught up with the latest on Ugly Betty, and tonight I'm hugely looking forward to Part Two of Wuthering Heights on TV. Part One yesterday was utterly gripping and I loved it. Funny how Heathcliff is indeed such a monster and yet I so desperately want him to win, even with knowing what happens. The actor is just so perfect in that part. Wonderful stuff.

Today's nice things:

1. Bank holidays
2. Poetry
3. Reviews for Bones
4. Books
5. Editing Hallsfoot
6. TV.

Anne Brooke: roaming through the moors of ... um ... Surrey
A Dangerous Man: almost as scary as Heathcliff and probably twice as deranged ...

Motes, nature and a good week for stepfathers

Another full day today, but here's this morning's meditation:

Meditation 211

The picture
in your mind

is only blood
and emptiness.

You plan and legislate
for what

cannot be held
in the hand

or snatched
from the air

as it passes.


For most of the day, Lord H and I have been wandering around Ightham Mote in Kent, which is a totally wonderful Medieval moated manor house. Bliss. It's the first time we've been too, so shame on us for not visiting it sooner. We'll definitely be back. It's got so many fantastic higgledy-piggledy rooms and a library layout to die for. The walks round about were pretty damn good too. As was the lunch - special mention has to be made of the banana and toffee meringue which reduced Lord H and myself to a totally worshipful silence. Mmm ...

Not content with all that, we also popped into Sevenoaks Wildlife Reserve on the trail of the black-necked grebe. Sadly we didn't actually spot said grebe, but it's got some good hides so we'll be back when the birds are more in abundance. Or at least more obvious.

Tonight, I am gearing myself up for the joys of Part One of the new adaptation of Wuthering Heights on TV. The scriptwriter is the sainted Peter Bowker, a Man Who Can Do No Wrong - he was responsible for the script of Desperate Romantics and the glorious Blackpool, so it'll definitely be worth watching, I'm sure.

However, I can't really let this week go without saying how utterly horrified I've been at the terrible abduction and imprisonment of poor Jaycee Lee Dugard from the ages of 11 until 29 years. I've been so horrified by it all and what she and her two children must have suffered that when I come to try to pray, I can't find any meaningful words and all I can do is cry. God preserve us, maybe that's enough. The only good thing that I can say about it all, speaking with my stepdaughter hat on, is that it's lovely to see that stepfathers aren't necessarily the potentially evil monsters they're often depicted as being these days. Sometimes they can be good things too - and I'm sorry the last 18 years of veiled accusations have cost Jaycee's stepfather his marriage, but it must be a relief for him to be so totally exonerated today. I like to think that if I'd ever been snatched from the street by an individual intent on evil (as my grandmother used to say), my own stepfather Jim would also have got on his bike, or more likely into one of his beloved tractors, and attempted to give chase, no matter how hopeless the outcome. Anyway, a tragic, long and horrific episode for all the Dugard family, and let's hope recovery is as whole as it can be for them. What I really fear is how many other Jaycees are out there, waiting to be discovered. Or not ...

Here are this week's haikus (two today, as one popped into my head this afternoon):

In my scented bath
a cloud of stories floats by.
Possibilities.


In green-golden woods
dapple my skin with sunlight,
meld me to the earth.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Ightham Mote
3. TV
4. Stepfathers
5. Haikus.

Anne Brooke: in medieval mode
Maloney's Law: for the children who remain

Skies, battle and song

I must say what an utterly glorious time Lord H and I had at last night's The Great Look Up event. The range of experts and telescopes was astonishing. We managed to get brilliant views of Jupiter, its rings and three of its moons, plus a ring nebula and a very very close look at the moon. I loved the whole thing. It was fascinating, and I would definitely jump at the chance to do something like that again. It really made you look. In a world were that doesn't happen often, I think.

Anyway, here's today's meditation poem:

Meditation 210

Redemption
lies in the struggle

to clear its path;
gaze upwards

and let your heart
rise

through a clarity
of angels.


This morning, I've been continuing the edit of Hallsfoot's Battle and have now worked out the complicated piece of editing. Which, like many things in life, wasn't actually as complicated or as fearsome once I got down to it. I'm very happy with how that section looks now. And, amazingly, I'm nearly half way through. Ye gods and little fishes indeed.

This afternoon, Lord H and I are off to our last Glyndebourne opera which is L'elisir d'Amore. One I really enjoy - it's such fun. This time we've opted for the pre-performance tea, just to ring those proverbial changes, so we'll spend the long interval sipping champagne and admiring the gardens. As you do. Ah, it's a tough life ... Though sadly it's the last of this season's operas so no more Glyndebourne after today until next year. The end of summer then, I fear.

Meanwhile, I'm in two minds about Ishiguro's latest short story collection, Nocturnes, which I've read on my e-reader. It's a very interesting and not a difficult read, with the stories focused on music and displacement. But it felt a bit "light" and I didn't really enjoy the title story, which went on for far far too long. The collection as a whole didn't really leave me with any sense of voice, and I have to say it's not Murakami. Though not bad. Faint praise, I know, but ah well.

Today's nice things:

1. Remembering the night sky
2. Poetry
3. Editing
4. Glyndebourne.

Anne Brooke - dusting down her posh frock and shoes
A Dangerous Man - which strange to say did once have a Glyndebourne sex scene but wisely I ditched it ...

Editing, sleep and the big night skies

Well, we thoroughly enjoyed Walking with Dinosaurs last night - a magnificent show indeed and very well done. Stars of the show were the great beasts themselves of course, but the way the plant life burst out of the stage at various points was grand too. The only big down-side was the fact that we were over half an hour late due to the fact that the M25 was shut and everything in the south came to a sympathetic standstill. Which made an hour's journey into a grand 2.5 hours and was extremely dull. Not to mention frustrating. On the way we passed no less than four accidents and were passed in turn by a very very slow-moving fire engine. One hopes it got there before the fire gave up. All of which probably made it into National Traffic Queueing Day, and the country will be celebrating its anniversary for years to come. Anyway, people were arriving late all the way through the show (which matters very little due to the nature of Wembley Arena). But the people I was really sorry for were the young family who finally crawled into their seats in front of us looking thoroughly bedraggled and traffic-beaten about 10 minutes before it actually ... um ... ended. Tough explaining that one to the young children in tow ...

Anyway, to today. And there's a poem, and it's the first day of reading Acts:

Meditation 209

Sometimes
it is necessary

to advance,
pour forth

the needs
of the moment,

demand satisfaction.
At other times

there is nothing
to do

but wait
under empty skies,

trusting in a promise
you no longer see.


For most of the day I've been editing Hallsfoot's Battle and am quite pleased with progress. I've now come to a section of more complicated editing so I'll leave it until I feel fresher, I think. After that and worn out from all the excitement of the past few days, I've managed to fit in a much-needed nap. Which turned out to be a whole two hours, so Lordy but I must have needed it.

Tonight, Lord H and I are out at the University's Great Look Up event, as he's something of a fan of the night sky and I think it should be interesting. Mind you, I'll try and avoid the barbecue, I think - I'm not a great fan of raw meat in the open air. If I want to eat badly-cooked food, I'd prefer to do it indoors ...

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Editing progress
3. Napping
4. The night sky.

Anne Brooke: head in the clouds as usual
Thorn in the Flesh: a definitive night-time read

Walking with Dinosaurs

A brief blog today as I have to be out of the flat in half an hour and still have to brush my hair and powder my nose, my dears. So here are today's excitements:

1. Had a fabulous Clarins massage with Alice this morning, which was hugely early so apologies for the lack of poem - I opted for the invigorating oils this time rather than the relaxing ones as usual, so am raring to go. Though I suspect not for long ...

2. It was then straight into a cappuccino with Robin, and then lunch with Robin & Liz (hello, both!). We put to rights the world of books, song and politics. So everything's perfect now. Just in case you were wondering why everything felt different.

3. Tonight, Lord H and I are up at Wembley Arena to see Walking with Dinosaurs, and I'm so very excited about it that I think I might be sick. I love dinosaurs. And I paid a small fortune for the seats so they are truly brilliant. Lord knows when we're going to have time to eat - and indeed I may well be eaten during the evening, which would rather solve the problem. Who can say?

Today's nice things:

See above!

Anne Brooke - wondering if I can fit a dinosaur into the flat ...
Disasters and Miracles - the everyday life of Bible folk

Poetry, the reading revolution and Mr Penry-Jones

Today we’re at the end of St John’s Gospel so here’s my last poem on that:

Meditation 208

In the flesh
there are no borders

and in the blood
and spirit and memory

there are so
many words

that the whole world
cannot hold them.


Tomorrow, it’s Acts – so hang on to your hats as we dive into that action-packed drama and angst …

At work, I’m actually doing quite well on my information gathering project – I’m rootling through the undergrowth with my trusty machete, and the tigers haven’t yet torn me limb from limb. So there’s hope, Carruthers, hope … I’m also attempting to sort out some upcoming meetings, but as it’s August and most of the academic staff are therefore sunning themselves in Majorca or Barbados, my hopes there aren’t quite as high. Still, by next week, we’ll be truly into autumn and it’ll be as if the summer pause never happened at all. Though actually, it didn’t for us. And probably not for the academic staff either. Ah well.

But this morning’s great excitement was the fire alarm going off. What fun. We all left the building beautifully and it wasn’t raining, hurrah. Nice to get out of the office once in a while en masse. There wasn’t actually a fire either, which is even better. I also managed to squeeze in a quick lunch & a cappuccino (hurrah!) with Jennifer – hello, Jennifer! Great to catch up and in just over an hour (naughty me …) we managed to put the literary world to rights. Jennifer’s Great Plan is that if we find a book that’s badly written (Sasha Wagstaff’s dreadful book, Changing Grooms, springs at once to mind, alas), or with dull characters and a ridiculous plot (um, ditto), we should mark up the errors and send it back to the publisher to say that the quality of the product falls below an acceptable legal standard and we should therefore have our money back. Honestly, it’s not a bad plan at all – and if everyone did it, then maybe publishers would begin to think twice about accepting substandard work for their lists. One can but hope. The reading revolution starts here …

Tonight, I’m pondering the edit of Hallsfoot’s Battle once more, though I mustn’t miss a new version of The 39 Steps on TV tonight, with the really quite scrumptious Rupert Penry-Jones. Whom I hadn’t really cottoned on to before, never having seen Spooks, but who swept me away in the glorious crime series, Whitechapel. Mmm, can’t wait …

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Reading revolutions
3. Editing
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – hacking away in a jungle of paper
Pink Champagne and Apple Juice – the perfect summer cocktail

The Great Information Gatherer and holiday memories

On this rather grey start to the day, here’s this morning’s meditation:

Meditation 207

East of the waters
the question

of where your heart rests
overflows the sense.

Love
is a binding power,

leading you
through unsung paths

where even now
you fear to pace:

follow it.


At work, with Clare’s help, I’ve finally got hold of some of last year’s reference sheets for Freshers’ Week so have spent most of the day attempting bravely to update them. My goodness, what a lot of information we seem to need for that week. It’s a never-ending well, my dears. Will I ever reach the bottom (as it were)?

Walked into town at lunchtime, mainly in order to get another journal. I always take one on holiday and the one I currently have doesn’t have that many pages left for any deep thoughts or inspiration that may flow my way in Italy, ho ho. I do find they come in handy – my holiday experiences in Bruges found their way into Kate’s story in Thorn in the Flesh, and of course my Egypt trip found its way into Maloney’s Law. I shall always remember that young boy, his very dirty basket of bread rolls and those Americans, Gawd help them. I hope they survived … Ooh, and I popped into Boots while I was in town and the totally lovely woman from whom I always buy my Clinique stuff (but I haven’t seen her for a while) took one look at me and told me my hair was utterly fabulous. How very kind! I didn’t think anyone in my “real life” but Lord H had noticed I’ve been growing it longer. It’s been a real boost today.

Tonight I am torn between expected joy and tears; it’s the last episode of Desperate Romantics and I’m already missing it. Please let there be another series – soon … My TV screen will be all the dimmer without it, alas.

Meanwhile, I’m getting into the edit of Hallsfoot’s Battle and can feel myself becoming quite excited about it again. I do love this part of the writing … um … battle. I’m being very drastic too about what I keep and what I add in. The snow raven is biting the dust, or possibly pecking it, and Johan’s point of view is going, as is the First Elder’s, these latter two to be subsumed into the viewpoints of my remaining four characters. Ah, the power, the power – it’s so satisfying.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Holiday journals
3. Hair compliments
4. TV
5. Editing powers.

Anne Brooke – power-crazed but beautifully coiffed writer sweeps through Surrey
Thorn in the Flesh – the dark side of the Surrey shires ...

Reflexology and editing

Goodness me, here we are again at Monday. How these summer weeks just fly by. Anyway, here’s today’s poem:

Meditation 206

The whole water
is empty of life

and the air
is as silent

as the hills.
Night has folded us in

like the promise
of death

and when the morning
finally softens the sky

all I have
is nothing

and all I see is how
at the water’s edge

he waits for me.


Have spent the day continuing to sort out details for the upcoming Freshers’ Week. I really need to get together a reference book for our information points staff, but I’m not quite clear on where the information actually is. Still, that’s never stopped me in the past, so I’m almost sure I’ll be able to whip up something that looks meaningful. Famous last words, eh. I’ve also had a fun time rejigging the Health Centre website ready for the new influx of students and arranging another tranche of meetings for next year. My, how it makes me laugh when people say that because I work in education my summers must be easier. Ho ho.

So, with all that, I thoroughly enjoyed my lunchtime reflexology appointment – soooo relaxing. Plus I’ve booked some more to get me through the autumn, hurrah.

Tonight, I’m intending to look a little closer at the Hallsfoot’s Battle edit, with the reward of Would I Lie To You? on TV later. As a sop to my existential pain of course. Wonderful.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Reflexology
3. Editing
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – feeling the benefits of the foot rub
Maloney’s Law: a man who could really have done with a little reflexology to get him through …

Church, edits and books

Here's today's meditation:

Meditation 205

In the middle
of battle, victory

and a bargained marriage
she knows

what is needed
and for this one time

she asks
what she wants

and gets it:
the upper

and lower water.
Caleb, Othniel, Achsah.


Keeping on a religious theme, Lord H and I graced the church with our presence today, but were utterly confused by the hymns. I think it's part of the Anglican August conspiracy that vicars choose hymns nobody knows to tunes that nobody understands. Perhaps they think it keeps us on our toes? We had a charming one by Wesley - called Author of Life Divine - but it's only two verses long so the congregation barely had time to get to grips with the tune. After all, the Church Hymn Rule for unknown tunes is the first verse is the one where you're working it through, the second verse is the one where you're practising it and the third verse and beyond is the one where you can really belt it out with gusto. Today we didn't get that chance. Ah well. We were also muddled by the fact that the last two lines of said verses are apparently sung slower and twice. Hmm, nobody told us ...

Still, at least we're back to shaking hands during the Peace and allowed to take wine at communion, so the spectre of the swine flu plague has obviously lost some of its grip. I also managed to give out a few postcards for Disasters and Miracles that Bridge House Publishing had kindly sent out. Nice to see that Disasters and Miracles at Amazon appears to be doing well. At one point late last week, its sales ranking actually only had four figures. Well, gosh, I've never been in those dizzy heights before.

This afternoon, I have fiddled around a little with the edits for the start of Hallsfoot's Battle and am pleased with my minimal efforts so far. More drastic cuts and slashes are ahead however! Time to gird one's loins for the kill.

Keeping to the subject of books, may I say that Sasha Wagstaff's Changing Grooms is the worst novel I've had the horror of reading in a long long time. What I was hoping for was light but intelligent women's fiction. What I actually got was dull, cliched, clunky and very very badly written. And the characters were so shallow it was laughable. A serious disappointment. It's an astonishment Headline actually published it - what on earth could they have been thinking?? Point of view changes happened every few paragraphs so it was very difficult to work out where you were at any one time, the conversations were completely unrealistic - how many British men do you know who sit down and discuss their emotions and the meaning of love at great length with each other?? - the plot was very sloppy, and character development (where it existed at all) was only shown through what clothes they were wearing. This kind of book is an insult to any reader, and certainly an insult to the genre. Shameful stuff. The only slightly positive angle I can spin on it is that if crap such as this is published by a mainstream imprint, then there is surely hope for us all. It also puts the nail finally and absolutely in the coffin of the ridiculously misinformed brigade who insist that "if you write something of quality, then of course it will be published ..." Um, not if this is the kind of book the so-called "quality press" are publishing, say I. Lord preserve us indeed.

Thank goodness then for an extremely high quality poetry collection from Peter Abbs. His Viva la Vida (though I do so hate that pretentious foreign title ...) is top class poetry that manages to be human, spiritual, religious and accessible, all at the same time. Which is surely a feat in itself. I have an absolute raft of favourites from the book, but I do have to mention "Falling Like Gulls" (about memory), "Grandmother Reading at Myrtle Cottage" (a strong and poignant portrait of a woman), "Moving Statues" (about faith and expectation), "Other Gifts" (a poem about emotional inheritances), "A Raw Planting" (visiting the graves of his parents), "The Genius of Turner" (how art happens) and "Small Love Poem". Amongst many many others. I shall definitely be looking out for more of Abbs' work.

Finally, here's this week's haiku:

Each raindrop glistens
with the clarity of light
and the world is still.


Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Church
3. Disasters and Miracles' Amazon rating
4. Beginning the Hallsfoot edit
5. Viva la Vida
6. Haikus.

Anne Brooke - puzzling over hymns
Disasters and Miracles: ideal Sunday reading

Reviews galore and a day in the country

Seemed to be loads of little jobs to do before the day really got started today (why are some mornings just like that??), but I managed to squeeze in a meditation poem:

Meditation 204

A faith that glistens
in the eyes

of your friends
slips through

your fingers,
does not glide

into skin:
a halfway house

between saints
and men

that gives
a promise of hope,

joins our now
with then.


I'm also very pleased to say that Book Utopia Mum has given Painting from Life a very positive review at Book Utopia Reviews. Thank you hugely for that - it's much appreciated.

Not only that but the lovely Clare London has uploaded three reviews on my work at the Goodreads site. Firstly there's A Dangerous Man:

"Excellent read, though dark and very edgy. Michael is all-consuming, totally fascinating. Both victim and ambitious, though he'll always be trapped by his background. Can't say much more without spoilers! But it's a treat to read. Great prose, it slides deliciously in and out of Michael's own mind and emotions, taking you with it, no holds barred. Great UK setting and a lovely slice of the art world and the anguish/joy of art itself."

Secondly, there's a review of Maloney's Law:

"Blew me away, a stunning mix of mystery and melodrama and one man's journey through a period of his life when everything seems a struggle. It's not heavy, though there are shocking scenes and strong adult themes. Paul's charm and determination carries the book, he's a great mix of strength and sensitivity and the perfect 'eyes' for the mature plot. Written with wit and excellently clear, entertaining prose."

And thirdly and lastly, here's Clare's take on The Bones of Summer:

"Excellent combination of mystery and romance. Loved the UK setting especially and the gritty, modern feel that gave it. Paul follows on from Maloney's Law, still the tortured, complex, fascinating man. Craig is new and a great counterpoint, lively, confused, sexy, needy, brave. The sex scenes are very fresh and hot, the dialogue realistic, and Craig's wit enchanting!"

Triple gosh and big big hugs to you, Clare - thank you so much! I'm extremely grateful indeed.

All of which has set me up nicely for a day in the country with Mother. The Old Gal is chugging along nicely - speaking of which, she's planning a holiday later in the year on the Manchester Ship Canal. It wouldn't be my first choice, but hey there's no accounting for mothers. We managed to fit in a walk in the afternoon as well so we could help her deliver the church magazines, although I was deeply traumatised by one of the people in the road exclaiming with astonishment when he saw us: "Gosh! You must be mother and daughter - you look so alike!" What can I say?? Obviously a man who needs his eyes thoroughly testing. There is NO WAY on this planet that my mother and I are alike IN ANY SENSE. At all. There. That's that sorted then ... Lord H meanwhile remains tactfully silent on the matter ...

Curious things passed on the motorway queue on the way to Mother's: a truck with Caution: Racing Pigeons emblazoned across it. Surely it would be quicker for them to fly??

Curious thoughts discussed whilst on the motorway on the way back from Mother's: why are houses always named in such obvious fashions? Why can't you have The Old Whorehouse or Brothel Cottage or Slaughter Manor? Ah, it's tempting, so tempting ...

Today's nice things:

1. Four book reviews, no less!
2. Poetry
3. Surviving Mother (Gawd bless 'er ...)
4. Lazy pigeons
5. Curious housenames.

Anne Brooke - happy to be read
Painting from Life: not just a load of old brushes

Reviews, pars and reports

What an exceptionally sparkly day it's been - we had a glorious moment at lunchtime when it began to rain heavily whilst the sun was still shining and the raindrops were all glittery. Just like a Disney film. Wonderful. It could only happen in the shires, you know. Anyway, here's today's meditation:

Meditation 203

Some old men
won’t lie down

but keep knocking
on your door

to demand land
and armies

and honour.
Whilst younger men

won’t stay dead
but arrive at supper

to show you
blood and pain

and a strange
breathable peace.


I'm thrilled to say that Christina at Romance Junkies Reviews has given The Bones of Summer a 4.5 star review which you can read here. An extract of the review is below:

“The Bones of Summer by Anne Brooke is an exceptionally well written and thrilling mystery novel. This novel grabbed a hold of me almost immediately and would not let go. I found myself reading until the early morning hours. The plot is quite interesting but what really intrigued me most about this book is Craig himself. He survived a terrible childhood. I admired his resilience. His father’s fanaticism is extremely disturbing and also very sad. The last few chapters are especially chilling and will stay with me for a long time.”

Thanks so much, Christina - I really appreciate that.

Golf this morning was fantastic too - my score wasn't as good as last week's dizzy heights (shame ...) but I managed to get the grand total of three pars. Three!! It's unbelievable, especially as the one on the eighth hole went in from a chip off the green. As it were (does this make sense to anyone but a golfer?). Who needs putters?... I parred the final hole too, which I felt pretty damn good about. Especially as when we walked back to the clubhouse, I was congratulated on it by not one, but two groups of male golfers. Result eh! It's amazing I can get into the flat at all with a head this size ...

Lynda has also arrived for my haircut and I now look almost sophisticated, my dears. Whatever next? I've also been working away on my review of Julian Fellowes' Past Imperfect for Vulpes Libris. I've now got the basis of what I want to say. I just need to sort out the quotes to demonstrate it. The book really is a fascinating read, even in its not-quite-perfect state.

This afternoon, my back has been duly stretched and widened into the shape it should be at my Alexander Technique lesson, and it certainly does feel different now. Ah if only I could remember and put into practice what I've learnt during the week to come, then I'd really be laughing. Whilst looking tall and elegant. Ho ho.

I've also received my critique from The Literary Consultancy about Hallsfoot's Battle and I'm happy to say that it's not as damning as I feared it might be. They did give the original version of The Gifting something of a pasting (and rightly so), so I was worried about this one. Yes, of course there are fairly major things to alter or kill - but that's par for the course (sorry) for me in the editing process. But I see what they mean and I think I can visualise how it might be, and that at this stage is certainly something. I might fiddle around with changes a little before our upcoming holiday, but I think the bulk of the next tranche of the editing process will happen afterwards. After all, it's not as if there's a rush for it ...

Tonight, it's mammoth flat-cleaning time (arrgghh!) and then there's a programme about a British bull-fighter on TV later, which I absolutely have to watch. This will bring me brickbats and shame, but I have to say I do like bullfights. Sorry, but there it is. We used to go to Spain a lot when I was a child and I loved them back then (which probably says something rather disturbing about me, but then again rural children are rarely sentimental about animals), and I took Lord H to see one when we were in Seville a few years back and I loved it then too. Lord H was not so keen, but he possesses less blood-lust than I do. Considerably less. He did look rather startled when we exited the building but it's no worse than a night out in Colchester when the army are on the razzle. Ah, my teenage years, eh ... Anyway, back to Spain and bullfights, I think for me it's that glorious combination of genuine danger, out-and-out machismo, blood and ballet. Not to mention the men in tight trousers. Marvellous.

Anyway, wiping that psychotic and lustful gleam from my eye, onwards and upwards. Here are today's nice things:

1. Sparkly weather
2. Poetry
3. A review of The Bones of Summer
4. Golf
5. Haircuts
6. Working on another Vulpes review
7. Alexander Technique
8. The report on Hallsfoot
9. TV.

Anne Brooke - bloody but relatively unbowed
The Bones of Summer - guaranteed: no bull

A glorious writing day

I've spent a really quite fulfilling day today simply writing. I'd half-forgotten how fulfilling it can be, as and when it wants to be. Really I've done little else. Here's today's meditation:

Meditation 202

The coolness
of the garden:

something remembered
from a time

before your time.
Tears, secrecy

and a vanished love
unfold

to a dazzle of angels
and his voice.


Getting to the end of the Gospel of St John now. As you may be able to tell. I'm wondering how I'm going to find the Book of Acts, as that's a rollercoaster ride for sure.

Anyway, I'm pleased to be able to tell you that I have finally (at last!) finished the short story I've been working on for what seems like ages, but is probably only days. It's an erotic short story about a male prostitute who doesn't quite have sex with a rather mysterious client, and who may or may not be in love with his pimp. Well, I'm a simple soul at heart. As you know. And it's tough here in the shires ... I'm also happy that I've finally found the right title for it. The working title up to this point has been Heavy Air, which I hated. But this morning, I looked at it and thought: Aha! A Stranger's Touch. That's the one. So there it is. Done. I've also sent it off to a possible publisher and we'll wait and see. Never say I'm not focused.

I have also read Julian Fellowes' Past Imperfect for the University reading group and I must say it's an utterly stunning novel. I have been gripped, my dears, gripped. It's not quite perfect, but it's pretty damn close. I won't say much more as I'm hoping to write a review for it for Vulpes Libris when we're all back from our summer break - but what I would say is this: if you see it buy it. It's one classy broad. As they say. And I can never resist an unnamed narrator. Bring them on!

Tonight, I'm chilling - as hell I deserve it. And there's New Tricks on TV too. Ooh, lovely.

Today's nice things:

1. Writing
2. Poetry
3. Finishing my short story
4. Books
5. TV.

Anne Brooke - pretty damn twisted but rarely dull ...
A Dangerous Man: another prostitute to die for

Disasters, Miracles and strange Connections

I’m very pleased to be able to tell you that Disasters and Miracles, the new Bible Stories anthology, is now available for purchase at Amazon UK. One of the stories in it is my own The Voyage, based on St Paul’s journey to Rome and his shipwreck in Malta and is told from the point of view of the centurion who took him there. Other stories in the anthology include an animal’s eye view of Noah’s ark, what it might have been like for the people in Jericho when the walls came down, and what really happened to the boy with the loaves and the fishes. More information can be found at my website.

Which is good news for me, as since last night I’ve been caught up in a small but rather vicious wave of depression, goddammit. It hasn’t been nice. And this morning I woke up to the news that Dreamspinner Press aren’t going to use my story in their upcoming Games in the Dark anthology, even though they thought it was good. I don’t know – I felt utterly winded by that and really quite tearful. They suggested I send it in as a stand-alone story, but I don’t feel strong enough for that, to be honest. So I’ve sent it off to another publisher who have a similar style anthology in the offing, to see if I have any more luck. And I’m trying to not think about it too much.

Anyway, what with all that, I didn’t have the heart to open my Bible this morning, so I apologise for the lack of poem, but there it is. But thank goodness work has been busy so I’ve been able to keep the doldrums at bay by throwing myself into writing up yesterday’s minutes, creating a draft presentation for the wardens, forming a To Do list for Freshers' Week, and all that whilst maintaining a reasonably calm exterior and not bursting into tears and rushing to the loo every five minutes. Lordy, but I’m good.

I’ve even taken my Coolreader – which is working, hurrah! – on my lunchtime stroll with me and sat reading it by the lake. The book I’m reading on it is utter chick-lit tripe (of which more when I’ve finished it) but at least it’s working. Though it did take us a while last night to realise we had to authorise the machine first before it would open anything. Sigh. We should have remembered from discovering this the time before. And on the way back to the office after lunch, I nipped in for a quick Starbucks – bliss, as ever.

At home, however, I've been hugely cheered by the fact that my erotic flash fiction piece, Connections, is now up at Babel Fruit Journal. This is a significant milestone for me as it was the very negative (and actually very hurtful) reaction from my former writers' group to this story that made me leave it and, eventually, the self-publishing company attached to it. Nice to know they might have been wrong. Sorry if that seems bitchy, but that's how it was. And I've never pretended to be perfect. Besides of which I don't think I would ever have reacted in a similar way to a piece brought to a writing group for comment. It was quite devastating at the time, but looking back I'm glad it made me take the decision I did. So I suppose it worked out for the best for all in the end, and thank you, Ren, for publishing it now!

Tonight I might stare for a while at my current short story and wonder what the heck it’s all about, so thank goodness for Who Do You Think You Are? Sometimes TV is a veritable lifesaver.

Today’s nice things:

1. Disasters and Miracles being published
2. A working Coolreader
3. Starbucks
4. Connections being published
5. TV.

Anne Brooke – fighting back disaster even as it strikes
Disasters and Miracles: a summer read for all the family

Poetry, Coolreaders and Romantics

Phew, we’re onto Tuesday. At last. Monday seemed to go on for ever, really. Here’s today’s poem:

Meditation 201

Night wraps round
your body as you stumble
through silent trees

and soft grass,
dawn already milking
the too early skies.

Where you thought
to find
the solidity of stone

you touch only freedom
and the coolness
of linen.


As you can see, I’m focusing on the New Testament again, as the Book of Joshua has moved on to a list of towns the Israelites have conquered, and it’s really rather dull. Yawn. Keeping on the subject of poetry, I'm pleased to say that five of my meditation poems have been published at Thirty First Bird Review, and have been kindly described by Edward as "modern psalms". Gosh, thank you, Edward. You can read them by clicking on the link and scrolling down about a third of the way down that page. Enjoy!

Anyway, at work, I’ve had two meetings today, both of them squeezed into the afternoon in quick succession. Though I did manage to have a stroll round campus at lunchtime beforehand, which was gloriously soothing. The first meeting was to look at what the accommodation wardens are doing in terms of greeting Freshers when they arrive, and the second followed on from that by looking at how we in Student Care are getting on with our induction week arrangements. It’s all a muddle at the moment. At least in my head. But that’s par for the course at this time of year. Or is that only me? I’m sure it’ll all come together on the week. Well, I hope it will … Though that feeling of barely contained panic continues, eh. Really, I'm just nodding and agreeing with everyone and hoping it will all soon be over.

Meanwhile, my replacement Coolreader has arrived at Lord H’s workplace, and he’s even charged it up for me. Here’s hoping it lasts longer than the first one! And thank you, Susan/Erin, for sorting that out for me. It’s going to be great to get back to ereading again.

Tonight, that short story beckons me – I reckon I’m about halfway through now and I’m still not entirely sure how the ending will be. But that’s normal for me, so I’m not worrying about it. Too much. Thank goodness then for the boisterous joy of Desperate Romantics on TV tonight. Honestly, that script is the best and brightest thing (and so strangely underrated, Lord knows why) on TV at the moment. I’ll miss it hugely when it finishes.

Today’s nice things:

1. Not being Monday
2. Poetry
3. Poetry publication
4. Lunchtime strolls
5. Replacement ereaders
6. Short stories
7. TV.

Anne Brooke – muddled but desperately romantic, naturally …

Monday angst and work reviews

This morning seems full of that all-pervading Monday angst, groan. But here’s my 200th meditation poem anyway:

Meditation 200

The heady scent
of spices –
myrrh and aloes –

almost cuts you down
when you walk
for the first time

from the almost-dark
to the light.
The garden

buries your discomfort,
wrapping it
in linen, preparing

for the night.


I’m pleased to have reached my 200th poem in this series – it seems like a kind of milestone, albeit a quiet one. Meanwhile, at work, I’ve been attempting to deal with my emails whilst pretending to act like a normal human being. Never say I don’t know how to multi-task, eh. Why is it that on Mondays it’s soooo much harder to be normal? Really, I just want to run screaming from the building, go home and lie under the duvet for a while. Ah, if only that plan could happen.

Anyway, today I had my annual review. Never something I look forward to, it was made rather worse by being rescheduled over my lunchtime. I should have taken in my lunch of rice and smelly fish, ho ho, but didn’t quite have the courage. Still, it went well, and they might just about keep me on for another year, which is a relief. Phew. I’ve also rung my website provider to try to sort out my direct debit – what lovely people Zen are, I must say. A pleasure to deal with.

Tonight, I need to go shopping – more smelly fish is required, I think – even though I am utterly and absolutely desperate to get home. Where I’m planning to add a few more paragraphs to my current short story (now at 3000 words and growing ever stranger …) and collapse like a beaten jelly in front of Would I Lie to You? on the TV. Sometimes, the only thing that works for me is the glorious David Mitchell being his adorably comic self.

Today’s nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Zen website people
3. Short stories
4. TV.

Anne Brooke – groaning her way through the day
Vulpes Libris: foxtrotting off for the summer but still dreaming of books

Sunflowers and sleep

Goodness me, but what a sunshiny day today. We are being lucky in terms of weekend weather these days. Are we still in Britain at all? Anyway, here's today's poem:

Meditation 199

Buried in a list
of impossible towns –
Dibon, Kedemoth,

Zereth-Shahar –
lies the death
of Balaam,

devious teller
of fortunes
and beater of donkeys

and I find that,
for his faults,
I’ll miss him.


Today, Lord H and I have spent a very pleasant few hours wandering around Wisley and particularly admiring the sunflowers. I do so love sunflowers. Such a happy plant. We also had a very good lunch and watched as Queen Victoria and her entourage (no less) greeted her subjects. She looks surprisingly well for a dead woman, I must say.

Once back home, I braved medical opinion by taking a (I think) well-earned nap, and am now feeling like I could start my day all over again. I might well add a few more sentences to my short story later on, but we'll see. There's also a programme on TV about God (well, it is Sunday ...) later which we may well catch, even though it looks rather too worthy for the weekend.

Here's this week's haiku:

Railway men dressed as
orange flamingoes punch soil
on the railway track.


Today's nice things:

1. Sunshine
2. Poetry
3. Wisley
4. Napping
5. Haikus.

Anne Brooke - lapping up the sun
Vulpes Libris: shining a light on the secret life of erotic fiction

Day in the country

Am thrilled to say that Connections, my erotic flash fiction piece, has been accepted for publication by Babel Fruit Journal, so that's hugely pleasing - many thanks, Richard!

I've also read the latest edition of Equinox Poetry Journal, where I particularly enjoyed Ann Drysdale's The Shadow of the Moon (all about endings and beginnings, in lots of ways), Denise Bennett's marvellous Quaker Meeting (about the magic of silence), John Enright's Listening in Florida (taking a very satirical view of highways), Abegail Morley's Blackberry Picking (where nature is more sinister than first expected) and Tom Gilliver's Poem xvii (which looks at that unbridgeable gap between the idea and the realisation, dammit). Great stuff.

The rest of the day has been spent with our friends in Kent, helping to celebrate Pauline's special birthday (28 years old with 22 years' experience, naturally ...) and generally having a very very good time. We chatted for ages, had a great lunch out, saw round the school where she works and went for a high-powered (or at least high speed!) walk in the woods. Plus I was very brave and met her dog for the first time - I'm not by nature a great fan of dogs, and Max is a long-haired German Shepherd, so a big dog too. But actually he was fine and didn't (a) do that horrible jumping up thing - yuk, or (b) try to lick my face - double yuk. So I have warmed to him, my dears. Soon we will be corresponding by canine mail and the next thing you know we'll be booking a holiday together ... You heard it here first.

Today's nice things:

1. Flash fiction acceptance
2. Poetry magazines
3. Visiting friends
4. Unscary dogs.

Anne Brooke - getting in touch with her canine side
Vulpes Libris: discovering the art of being dead ...

Glorious golf and off-the-wall stories

Marian and I had a wonderful game of golf today - I think it's the best we've ever played. And we both got two pars apiece - bliss! Really, it was one of those rare and perfect golf days where I could have spat at the ball and it would still have gone in the hole. And even the sun was shining. What could be nicer?

I've also been working away on my piece of short fiction - which at over 1000 words now has definitely gone beyond the boundaries of flash fiction. Especially as I think I'm probably only about a quarter through. At some point I'm going to have to move it into a different file. And think of a title. Strangely it's turning into a story about a prostitute who doesn't have sex and his dealings with a stranger who may, or may not, be from another world. Lordy, but I like to make it tough. Hey ho.

Meanwhile, here's today's poem:

Meditation 198

For the priests
no land
is allotted.

Enough for them
to possess
those killed

in God’s name,
to nurture by night
the eternal flame.


Keeping on the subject of writing, I've finished reading Remastering Jerna, Ann Somerville's upcoming book from PD Publishing, which she's been kind enough to send me for comment. I have to admit straight up that BDSM simply isn't my scene and I had to skim through those sections with my eyes half shut and my teeth gritted, but I absolutely loved Jerna as a character - he's wonderful and I've been worrying and thinking about him a lot, even when I haven't been reading. I also thought the setting was top notch and the tension and complexities of the plot first class. It's being published sometime late Summer (not quite sure when), and I can certainly recommend it, with the proviso that you might have to grit your teeth now and again if you're not a fan of the genre. But if you are, enjoy!

There you are - from religion to sado-masochism in one easy move. Though perhaps that move isn't such a long stride as people may imagine (hush my mouth)...? In any case, never say this journal isn't inclusive, eh.

Meanwhile, the CoolReader saga has taken a more positive turn (hurrah!). Susan (also known as Erin) on Twitter has sent me a very human email - my first from them, I think, and thank you, Susan, for it. I've now sent back the old broken machine via Lord H's work, and am waiting to hear when they might deliver my new one. I hope it's okay from now on in - as, contrary to popular opinion, on the whole I'd really rather not have to be cross.

This afternoon, I've been to my Alexander Technique lesson and my back now feels much freer than it's been for a few days. It's odd how you don't notice the problems until someone puts you into the right position again. I must remember to focus more.

Over the last couple of nights, Lord H and I have been trying to watch for the shooting stars display that happens each year around this time. We've been lucky in the past, but not so far this year. Two nights ago, it was too cloudy and last night we saw nothing even though we set the alarm for 2am (how brave!) and stared determinedly at the sky for half an hour. Not sure whether we'll try again tonight - we'll see.

Today's nice things:

1. Golf
2. Writing short stories
3. Poetry
4. Jerna
5. Alexander Technique
6. The possibility of meteors.

Anne Brooke - she may be in the gutter but she's looking at the stars
Vulpes Libris: making the most of Summertime

Poetry, sex and napping

Back to a more normal routine today, so here's this morning's poem:

Meditation 197

Old age
brings the knowledge

of all the noble acts
you have not done:

people unfought,
lands unconquered.

Sometimes you wish
you’d died young.


Keeping to the subject of poetry, I'm pleased to say that Callused Hands Journal have accepted two of my poems for future publication - thanks, Ivan! Always good to have something to look forward to indeed.

Anyway for the rest of the day I've been writing up my review of Ian Kelly's Casanova for Vulpes Libris. I've thoroughly enjoyed it too - what a great book and what a fascinating man! As I'm sure I'll say again, and probably again, when the review date comes up (as it were).

I've also been continuing my long-running and rather fraught emails with the CoolReader people. I've discovered that the best (or indeed the only) thing to do to get them to respond (for anyone else out there who has similar problems) is to send them private messages on Twitter. After several messages today, we finally have the following situation: they have told me that the information on my broken machine will be deleted. This is the information I asked them for last week and frankly it's astonishing it's taken them so long to reply. It's what I wanted to know - particularly as my own completed novels and one or two published short stories are stored on there. With that in mind, I've asked them to give me a date on which my old machine can be collected and my new one given to me - bearing in mind that it's taken a week to get here, I'm not convinced that will be soon, but we'll see. They've also offered me a voucher for spending on CoolerBooks, but as there's nothing on there I want to buy, that's not particularly great and I told them so. And really, I don't want a voucher - I want good, swift, intelligent service and a machine that works. So, I'm pleased I've finally got an answer, but we're not out of those pesky trees yet ...

And I've also been incredibly brave and had a nap. Apparently, according to today's news, this is a very dangerous thing to do as it brings on Alzheimer's and Diabetes. Hopefully not at the same time. Lordy, but is anything at all deemed to be safe??

Tonight, I'm looking forward to New Tricks, which is my comfort TV for that almost-midweek zone. Bring it on.

Today's nice things:

1. Poetry
2. Poems acceptances
3. Writing my review of Casanova
4. Napping - goodness how brave!
5. TV.

Anne Brooke - living on the wild side
Vulpes Libris: getting to grips with the man behind Ghosts and Lightning

Human Love and the strangeness of cheese

I’ve uploaded my review of Andrei Makine’s Human Love onto Vulpes Libris today. It’s a very political beast and I’m seriously not sure about that mozzarella line. Ah well. As you can tell, I wasn’t greatly impressed.

Talking of Vulpes, I’ve now read Ian Kelly’s biography, Casanova, and what a wonderful piece of work it is too. I can thoroughly recommend it – an intelligent, witty and eye-opening book. I’m looking forward to writing my review on it for sure.

At work, I’ve been getting to grips with typing up the second meeting of Monday and managed to get the first draft done, hurrah. I’ve also been making changes to the office website ready for the new academic year. Though whether I’ll ever be ready for the new academic year is anyone’s guess …

At lunchtime, I walked into town and bought a watch as mine gave up the ghost on Monday and I’ve been living my life entirely by means of handy wall clocks and the computer timer. I do keep looking at my right wrist (yes, I’m totally cack-handed – neither a left- nor a right-hander, I fear) to see what the time is, but so far it hasn’t been able to tell me.

And, after much umming and ahhing, I’ve put my name down for the Poetry School online course. I seem to be the only one there so far, and am even now pondering on my pre-course assignment which is to write a poem about a subject I am passionately curious about. I suspect they don't mean write about me however. Ah well.

Meanwhile, I’m still making absolutely no headway with getting a replacement Coolreader machine. The company aren’t answering my emails though they are responding to Twitter messages, and so far the promised replacement isn’t here. I’m getting more and more angry and frustrated about it all, and it’s seriously putting me off my Coolreader, which up until last week I was very much enjoying. It’s very difficult to know what I have to do to make them respond with real action, other than chain myself to the MD’s front gate and bite his kneecaps as he shuffles past. Hmm, that might certainly be an option. Watch this space, eh …

Tonight, I’ll be glued to Who Do You Think You Are, and pondering that review of Mr Newhouse (anglicised). What a fascinating chap.

Today’s nice things:

1. Vulpes Libris
2. Books
3. A new watch
4. The Poetry School course
5. TV
6. Pondering reviews.

Anne Brooke - searching for something to be curious about
Vulpes Libris – meditating on the mysteries of politics and … um … cheese