Words … words … words

The power of words is an immensely strong one.  Without words we wouldn’t be able to communicate and share ideas, and without the written word it would be impossible to read what others have written.

I recently had an interesting day built on the power of words.  During the afternoon I helped to run a class where we discussed, and then attempted to compose our own, poetry.  We were a mixed bag, men and women with varying interests, some of whom hadn’t had a huge amount of exposure to poems.  I brought along copies of a few different verses: Henry Shukman’s ‘Spring Lamb’, ‘Adrian Henri’s Talking After Christmas Blues’, and A A Milne’s ‘Daffodowndilly’.

We started with the Shukman poem, which evoked a range of responses.  The overall feeling was that it was very emotive, started a little sadly and pessimistically, and finished with a happy ending.  The language is relatively simple, but the poem does exactly what it sets out to do, it leaves the reader feeling happy and optimistic.  We also agreed that it doesn’t follow rigid rules, nor does it rhyme, but it fits in with the theme of renewal that is prevalent at Easter, and therefore in the spring.

We then went on to look at the Adrian Henri which is partly in rhyme, follows some basic patterns, but also breaks them.  It conveys human emotions and feelings of loss.  We agreed that it was probably a man writing about a broken relationship with his wife or girlfriend, and unlike the previous poem it didn’t have a happy ending.  It also drew a response from a widower in our group, who read us a poem that he’d written about his wife after her death.  Even though he is not a poet, we were equally touched by his use of words and felt honoured that he offered to share these extremely heartfelt words and emotions with us.

The final piece was ‘Daffodowndilly’, which may seem like a simplistic poem for children, but which is rich in imagery, anthropomorphising a flower.  It also provides a surprise in its final line as it juxtaposes the statement ‘Winter is dead’ with the earlier light, colourful imagery of spring. The overall impression was of an informal class that had been enjoyed, and possibly where expectations had been confounded.  I’m very much looking forward to the next time we meet.

A couple of hours later I attended a lecture at University College London about the final years of the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, and of the responses evoked in literature and art to the fact that the queen was past her fertile years, remained unmarried and childless, and there was no successor to follow her to the throne.

This lecture was so skilfully given, and so easy to follow, that it made me wonder why I hadn’t made all these assumptions myself.  However, in the hands of another academic, who possibly may not have the gift of explaining and conveying these same theories in a way that was easy to understand, it could easily have turned into a boring and uninteresting hour.

We don’t have to be academics to read and learn from the printed page.  We can all enjoy on different levels as the fancy takes us.  But what a strange place the world would be without the written word.

Review: Talking to the Dead by Helen Dunmore

Helen Dunmore never fails to disappoint. She has a way with words and makes you believe you are inside the narrative and able to experience the sensations she evokes. I can always feel, taste, smell and hear a Dunmore novel.

Talking to the Dead is filled with tension and an awareness that something unpleasant will be revealed. The story unfolds through the filter of Nina, the younger of two sisters, who relates in the present tense, adding to the immediacy of the narrative. Although the perspective is Nina’s, she doesn’t try to pull the wool over the eyes of the reader, but presents herself in a way that is not entirely sympathetic. She is drawn deeper into the lives of her sister, Isabel, who has recently had a traumatic birth experience, and her husband Richard; the proximity between the two sisters leads to the awakening of long suppressed memories from the past.

The Big Society: Are We Really All In It Together?

At least Stephen Hester and his huge bonus are not on the front pages again today.  My other half tried to convince me that the RBS boss is worth all those shares and explained how much money Mr Hester has saved his bank.  Sorry, I’m still not entirely convince and need somebody to explain to me, very slowly, why bankers are so highly valued.  In my opinion there are many people working in far less high profile jobs and professions and who contribute to society in much more beneficial ways.  From where I’m standing it appears that our cabinet of millionaires, and multi-millionaires are far more closely allied to the ‘fat cats’ of industry and big business, than they are connected to the majority of people in Britain.

Although I’m jobless, I’m lucky that I don’t need to apply for benefits, although I would love to work. However I use some of my spare time to volunteer and help out others and I believe I have I much more balanced and sympathetic view of those who are far less well off than I am.  Today I put money in a collection box for Alzheimers and Dementia, simply because I’ve often stood in the same spot and collected for my local branch of Mencap.  Life is not fair these days, and can even be extremely cruel, but I usually feel pretty good in myself after a couple of hours holding out a collecting tin and feeling it getting heavier and heavier.  I know what I take in an hour or two would be a mere drop in the ocean compared to the earnings and bonuses of the big bank bosses.   I often feel incensed when people smile at me and walk away without putting a penny in my tin, but I feel more of a connection to those less fortunate than I would do if I carried on living my own self-centred life.

I think those of us further down the heap have more of a connection than those who preach to us.  Would they really want to donate spare time to help people learn the internet for nothing at their local library (assuming that they have one that is still open)?  I will expand this to teaching computing and internet to elderly carers in my area next month.  These are the unsung heroes of our society.  Those people who have no option but to care for friends and family with disabilities.  The people they care for are not scroungers, but people who are afflicted with problems, difficulties and illnesses that prevent them from working.  In spite of these handicaps, I know of men and women with learning disabilities who work to a certain extent and do the best they can.  And I haven’t heard one of them moan or grumble about their situation.  They just get on with it and carry on as best they can.

We are definitely not all in it together.  In Animal Farm George Orwell famously stated that ‘all animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.’  It was ever thus and will never change, unless those who are more equal roll up their sleeves to help those who are less equal.

Book Review: An Experiment in Love by Hilary Mantel

An Experiment in Love is Carmel’s story of her childhood somewhere near Manchester. She is educated at Catholic schools, earns a scholarship as a passport out of her working class background, and fetches up at university in London. Here she makes new friends from different classes and parts of the country, but fails to sever her ties with her school friends, who have joined her at the same hall of residence.

Carmel reflects back on her life, prompted by a newspaper article about a friend and former co-student, but it is only when we approach the novel’s end that we realise how her story, and her friend’s profession, are linked, and can understand what has prompted Carmel’s reminiscences.

This is a coming of age biographical novel, told against a background of the 1960s and early 1970s, of girls leaving home for the first time and trying to live independently in London. We are vaguely aware of the wave of feminism that underpins the era, although these girls are having to work it out for themselves. As someone who was born in the same year as Hilary Mantel, I was also touched by the memories that are so relevant to the 1960s, especially the ritual of buying the first school uniform, and encountering school teachers who are quick to lash out with a ruler.

T S Eliot famously stated that his past was part of his present, and this is acutely true of Carmel and her tale. She may have risen above her working class background, but she can never leave her former self behind.

Family Album by Penelope Lively

Penelope Lively has long been one of my favourite contemporary writers. Once more she plays with the idea of memory in a novel that is not linear, but jumps around in just the same way that we remember the past.

Family Album is the story of a large middle class family and is told through the eyes of the parents, and the six children, who are all adults when the novel starts. What appears to be an ideal existence in a large and rambling home, Allersmead, actually turns out to be anything but. There is a skeleton in the family cupboard, and it gradually becomes apparent that it is known and acknowledged, although never explicitly acknowledged by the parents.

It’s often stated that a family that eats together, stays together. But this is not the case and the novel ends with the siblings widely scattered and keeping in touch by email. Thus a tale that starts slowly and that expands gradually, is reduced to the shortened messages conveyed through hyperspace.

Penelope Lively again proves that scratching the surface reveals that things are never quite what they seem, and that we don’t all take away the same impressions from shared experiences.

Review of The Fight for English by David Crystal

This book should be required reading for anybody who cares about the English language. Although David Crystal is a linguist he passionately believes that our language must evolve. It can never be preserved in aspic. To endorse this belief he reminds us that Samuel Johnson saw the error of his way, and proclaimed that language can never be fixed. Crystal goes on to state:

You cannot stop language change. You may not like it; you may regret the arrival of new
forms and the passing of old ones; but there is not the slightest thing you can do about
it. Language change is as natural as breathing. It is one of the linguistic facts of life.

He charts the evolution of the English language, both verbal and written, from Anglo-Saxon times to the present day when American English is more the norm than the exception. He analyses the changes in our language over the centuries and discusses how the pedants and moralisers have tried to impose rules and regulations. How regional accents and dialects have been derided, and how writers, such as Shakespeare, have been retrospectively criticised for making grammatical errors.

Crystal reaches an optimistic conclusion that allows for changes to the English language. He is pleased that the teaching of grammar has been reintroduced to schools, but in a far less prescriptive and proscriptive manner that now permits children to understand and questions the rules.

It’s time to go with the flow and accept that the English language has never stood still, nor will it in the future. And there is nothing wrong with starting a question with a conjunction and ending it with a preposition. 

Review of Nemesis by Philip Roth

It was difficult to read this novel without a growing sense of foreboding. The very title can mean retribution, or it can also mean an enemy in North American usage. The very ambiguity of the interpretation of the title feeds into Bucky’s feelings of guilt and makes the reader question why Bucky feels he must shoulder so much blame for the polio epidemic that is raging through New Jersey while World War II is being fought in Europe and the Pacific. Is he really an agent of doom, or can he never forgive himself for not being fit enough to fight in the armed services? Bucky can run, but he can’t hide. The novel also questions the existence of a cruel or a caring God and leaves you feeling unsettled and angry and upset for Bucky, the life thrust upon him, and the choices he has made.

Golden Vegetable Soup

I like to cook foods that are in season, but I also like to mimic nature’s colours if I can.  When the leaves change to shades of gold and brown and start to drop from the trees, I yearn for ‘harvest’ foods in similar hues.  These colours are abundant in squashes and pumpkins, carrots and peeled sweet potatoes.  It’s simple to make a nourishing vegetable soup from any or all of these ingredients.

Ingredients

1 onion, finely chopped
1 stick of celery, finely chopped
3 carrots, diced
1 medium size sweet potato, diced
1 medium potato, diced
Half a medium butternut squash, peeled and diced
About three good handfuls of soup mix (the ones that contain lentils, barley, beans and split peas)
1 tablespoon of tomato purée
1 litre of vegetable stock
Seasoning to taste

Method

Heat a couple of tablespoons of oil (or butter if you prefer) in a large saucepan. Lightly fry the onion and celery in a little oil until soft.  Add the other vegetables, toss with the onion and celery and leave to sweat over a low heat for about five minutes, stirring occasionally. Add the beans and pulses and mix in well with the vegetables, then add the tomato purée and make sure everything is well coated.   Finally add the vegetable stock (or chicken stock if you prefer), bring to the boil, season to taste, cover the pan and leave to simmer for about an hour until all the ingredients are cooked quite softly.

The ingredients and quantities can be varied and played around with.  Any squash or pumpkin will work and leeks can be used too.  Served with some chunky bread and cheese this soup is a main meal in itself.

Meatball Casserole

When the weather changes, so do our appetites.  Well at least mine does.  In the summer, or when it’s hot I prefer to eat cold or cooler food, especially if it means I don’t have to slave away in a hot kitchen.  When it becomes colder as the days draw in, I instinctively yearn for comfort foods and meals that will warm me from the inside out.  Obviously casseroles and stews are categorised as winter dishes, although I once enjoyed a delicious Boeuf Bourgignon in Dijon on a hot summery evening.  I ate outside and didn’t have to do the cooking.

One dish that has been a favourite in my house for many years is a meatball casserole.  It’s easy to cook, is warm and comforting, contains loads of juices for mopping up with bread, and takes far less time to cook than a casserole made with more solid pieces of meat.

Ingredients

500 g (1lb) minced beef
1 slice of bread (can be white or wholemeal)
½ large onion
1 large egg
½ teasp salt
10 grinds of black pepper
2 teasp dark soy sauce
1 tbsp (approx) fresh breadcrumbs
Some plain flour seasoned with salt and pepper
½ large onion finely chopped
2 teasp salt
10 grinds of black pepper
2 tbsp brown sugar
2 teasp ready made mustard (I use Dijon)
2 teasp soy sauce
1 tbsp lemon juice
5 oz tomato pureé mixed with 10 fl oz water

Method

To make the meatballs put the bread, onion, egg, salt, pepper and soy sauce in a food processor or blender until smooth, then add to the minced meat, with breadcrumbs to take up any slack. Put the mix aside for about half an hour to firm up a little. Put the seasoned flour on a plate and form small balls of the meat mixture (you should get six from this quantity) between dampened hands. Roll the meatballs in the flour, squashing slightly to make patty shapes. Heat some oil in a heavy frying pan for about four minutes, add the patties and fry until they are a rich brown colour on both sides. Remove and drain on kitchen paper.

Use the left over oil (or add a little more if necessary) to the pan and lightly fry the chopped onion until golden, add the remaining ingredients and simmer for about five minutes until well combined and starting to thicken. Return the meatballs to the pan, baste with the sauce, cover with a lid and simmer on the hob for about thirty minutes, or bake in the oven (150°C) for about forty-five minutes. Serve with creamy mashed potatoes, rice or pasta and any other vegetables that you fancy.  My other half is also happy to eat any leftovers in a sandwich.

Penelope Lively’s Moon Tiger

I’ve been a Penelope Lively fan for years, so I jumped at the opportunity of attending a radio recording of her talking about her Booker prize winning novel, Moon Tiger.   I’ve been to the BBC Radio Theatre several times, but this was a World Service programme, so it took place at Bush House.

The experience was a completely different one.  We were taken down a couple of flights of stairs and across a courtyard then down a further couple of flights, ending up in the bowels of Bush House.  Having started out at the Kingsway entrance to the building, we were now over on the Strand side.  In a highly civilised manner we were offered glasses of wine before going into the studio, where Penelope was already seated with Harriett Gilbert.  There were only about 30 of us in the small studio, and I was told that mine was to be the second question of the programme. 

After Harriett introduced Penelope, the writer read a short passage from the novel before taking the first question.  The pattern of the programme was a series of questions, some taken from the audience, others put to Penelope by Harriett, who had received them by email, and a couple more came in by phone from around the world.  It was interesting to take into account the questions posed by others and to learn of some of the writer’s insights into her working processes and the building up of character. 

My question was on the conflicting perspectives given in the novel, others asked about the research put in to build up a story, why the story didn’t have a necessarily happy ending and how much of the writer was in the protagonist.

It will be interesting to listen to the programme when it is broadcast in a few weeks, especially as our hour and ten minutes in the studio will be edited down to 53 minutes.  After that the programme will remain in the BBC’s archives indefinitely.