Holiday Novels

 
So - I hear you ask - what did Seamus choose to read while he was away on holiday? What? No one really wants to know? Sorry. But hey, I might as well continue with this thought now that I've got myself all fired up!

Did I sit down and nut out a logical, inspired collection of books to take away with me? Did I follow this year's advice on "the best novels to take away on holiday"? No! It was actually quite a random thing. I was running late - I am always running late - and the plane had already started her engines. I ummmed and ahhhhhhed in front of the bookshelf, my eyes almost turning inwards from all the pressure. I had wanted to read a non-fiction such as The Blair Years but then decided against it. In the end, these were the four books that fortified the corners of my suitcase:


Praying Mantis by André Brink. This is quite a departure for Brink. It's the story of Cupido Cockroach, a "drunk fornicator" raised on a Dutch farm deep in the African Cape in the late 1700s, who becomes the first ever Hottentot missionary. The writing is beautiful, full of what one reviewer called "African magic realism". I'm almost near the end.


Astrid and Veronika by Linda Olsson, an author based in New Zealand. This is the UK/US version of her book originally titled "Let Me Sing You Gentle Songs". It's a gem of a novel, which examines an unlikely friendship between an elderly recluse and a young writer struggling to get her life back on track after losing her partner.


Be Near Me by Andrew O'Hagan. I absolutely loved this one, probably because the story I'm working on is also about a priest. Here a young priest goes off the deep end, mixing in with a young, rebellious crowd after being posted to an isolated parish in Scotland. There is humour amongst the tragedy and this certainly had page-turning power.


The Ghost Writer by John Harwood. This was the easiest of my holiday reads. It was a suspense novel that had me guessing. It was perfect for lying on the beach, when I didn't want to have to work too hard or get too deeply involved in the story. The writing was good and the tale well structured.

But is there such a thing as a good holiday novel? Can these be defined as those that avoid the heavy issues and keep us light and fluffy? Or are they books that help us to escape, no matter what the subject? What do you read on holiday? Are you influenced by the newspapers and publishing houses that pump out holiday reading lists?

As I say, I tend to grab books off my shelf randomly at the start of my holidays, often because I'm late for the train or the plane. I should not, therefore, take part in any publishing surveys.

My Suitcase Refuses To Open !

 
The one bad thing about a good holiday is knowing that at some point it will come to an end. I could've sat here on this cliff top on Santorini - one of the islands in Greece's Cyclades - forever.


I am back home. But, actually, that's OK too. Lyon has a different kind of beauty. It's just that I would love to be on holiday forever. Forget this nonsense about work and career. If only.

I took about 600 photos and could've taken hundreds more. Here are just a few glimpses. I will show more later in a video with music.

















Does anyone recognise some of these places? We went to Mykonos, Naxos, Amorgos, Delos and Santorini. We relaxed. Did little. Read. Ate. Slept. Swam. Ate. Read. Slept. Did nothing. Luckily the Greek islands weren't affected by the wildfires sweeping across Greece! I also managed to get through four good books but didn't do an ounce of writing, which was how I planned it. Now, however, my fingers are aching, poised, ready to tap!

A Thousand Greek Salads

 


See that chair there by the pool? Yep, you guessed it. That's where I'm going to plonk myself down tomorrow and then forget about the world. This is on one of the Greek Islands we are flying to today. I have four weeks off. Have I made you go green with envy? Don't worry, I'll probably cook in the heatwave that's sweeping the region.

OK, I have checked ... and there is still some space in my suitcase. If you are small and don't mind cramped spaces, you are welcome to come. We're leaving in 30 minutes. Not enough time to pack? Darn. Miss Muffin is very disappointed that I didn't allocate the space to her (what does she expect with all the white hair that she leaves floating around the place!) Our lovely lovely lovely neighbour is looking after Miss Muffin while we're away.

I'm taking quite a few books and really hope to be able to get through them all. I'll also try to draft a few poems and generally try to think of ways to save the planet. I also want to do the healthy eating thing ... which will probably mean nothing but a thousand greek salads!

Ciao ciao. I'm back at the end of August.

Mysterious Venice

 

I've just had a wonderful week away, staying with my partner's Italian relatives near Venice. Oh the food! The language! Mama mia, I've put on a kilo! I read nothing. I wrote nothing. I relaxed and cleared my head. Everything was slow. It was 35 degrees or higher most days, so a shady place was like heaven.

Yes, I did buy one of those famous masks; mine is a bright red one, which looks great on the piano. It was my second visit to Venice, but it felt as if I were seeing everything for the very first time. Here are some of the more than 300 photos that I took:











We went to Venice via Switzerland, which we visit often, and passed through the villages around Italy's Lake Como. The night in Varenna, pictured here, was magic.


There was also time to check out Verona, as in Romeo and Juliet's Verona. This is supposed to be the balcony.


But don't worry, I'm not one of the thousands who've left love notes at the entrance to "Juliet's house".


After the holidays, at the end of August, I plan to bring the best Venice photos together and make another video presentation, complete with original piano music. My Ireland photos are also lined up for similar treatment. The piano compositions are almost finished.

The Gongs Have Been Pinned !

 
The results are out! Get over to The Shameless Lions Writing Circle to see who won what in my poetry contest/beauty pageant!

There are some surprises. There are some double winners. There are differences and similarities between the jury prizes and members' choice awards. Regulars of this blog have been recognised. There are some great poems and pics of lions, in case you hadn't noticed already.

It's been a load of fun. There's nothing like hearing a good roar over poetry and prose. Thanks to all those who voted.

Now I'm off to Italy for a week (via Switzerland)! Mama mia!

A Pause For A Poem

 

the dog walkers

the hard bucks have never been so easy to reap.
thank you, mam, he’ll be OK in my little pride,
his hair so nicely coiffed, his cutesy wee paws

never been scraped. we can take ten in one hand,
don’t worry; they love making new acquaintances.
they do fall over one another but they really do

enjoy it. two hours for 100 big ones, multiplied
by nine. yes, we take them into the city’s best
parks; they’ll be laughing, walking off all that

energy, watching the birds in the trees. we just
hope you don’t spot us tying them to a pole; they
can sometimes make a right fuss. but we know you

won’t object to an obligatory break: only two or
seven shots, honest. yes, we will take good care
of them; we're the best damn dog walkers in town





© Copyright, 2007. Seamus Kearney.

Agggghhhhhhhhh !!!!!!!!!!

 
I can probably kiss goodbye any chance I might have had of getting somewhere in the Bridport Prize. (Did I even have a chance, given that thousands and thousands of people enter?)

I feel like chopping off my fingers. Am I the only person who sends off a manuscript - after checking, rechecking and checking again - only to find a typo when it's too late?

I am better at editing this blog.

It is so annoying. An "o" became an "e" and I didn't see it with my tired, computer-weary eyes. I did numerous automatic spell-checks during the editing, but failed to do it after making some last-minute "quick, easy changes".

So, one word in my short story is not an actual word in the English language.

Will a judge let me off for one little typo, or will they toss the story in the bin, no matter how good the rest of it may be?

Agggggghhhhhhhhhh. It is so annoying that a story I was actually quite happy with has been betrayed by one little letter.

My only hope is that the judges also have tired, computer-weary eyes.

It Began With Her Obsession For Fridge Magnets ...

 

I just love this image, which I snapped during my recent trip to Aix-en-Provence. We all have our little obsessions, don't we? Is there anyone who doesn't collect strange things, worship something, become so focused on something that it addles the brain? I'm sorry, but we are obsessed by words. Rather, we are obsessed by capturing words on a page ... even if it's a computer page. We are no different to this person who moved their obsession from the fridge to the car. There. Don't go thinking we're far removed from this photo.

* * *

I saw an outdoor concert last night that I will never forget. Philip Glass played the piano under heavy rain, with thunder and lightning all around. Well, he was covered by the roof of the stage. We were out on the stone seats of a Roman amphitheatre, one of numerous sites around Lyon where Roman ruins have been preserved. We were given plastic raincoat-type covers and a piece of rubber to sit on. The rain didn't stop. It got heavier and heavier. We got soaked. But somehow it all added to the atmosphere. The brilliant music mixed in amazingly well with the sheets of rain. A wave of water that had built up on the roof crashed down just behind Glass but he didn't blink. The amphitheatre was packed. Everyone was brave. It was a concert that many of us will never forget. I play a little bit of Glass' music on the piano. I must now try to track down the sheet music for some of those other sublime songs I heard tonight. Closing from the Glassworks album is stunning.

Excuse me now while I dry myself down! I'm also going to count how many magnets I have on the fridge!

A Roaring Contest !

 

The starter pistol has been fired! The guardians are now accepting votes.

It is time to judge the lions and the poems/pieces of prose produced by the new members of the Shameless Lions Writing Circle. A two-week voting period has opened.

Go HERE to read the entries and see the lions.

If you are a member of the circle, your votes are needed for the Members' Choice Awards.

If you are a reader, there are lots of poems and lions to comment on. The judges deciding on the jury prizes will no doubt read the comments left on the individual member listings.

There are some great prizes at stake. Results will be announced on Friday, July the 13th (what a perfect day to release them!).

I've also had some fun making up the badges that winners will be able to add to their blogs. I'm not very technically minded, or very skilled at computer graphics, but I'm quite proud of what I was able to do here. Check out this EXAMPLE badge:



Spread the word.

Happy reading! Happy roaring!

A Short Story

 
Minx set us a nice little writing challenge: no more than 500 words inspired by a gorgeous painting by Jack Vettriano. My story didn't get the big gong (congratulations to Canterbury Soul and Mutley), but I thought I would share mine with you here anyway. Check out the painting before reading the piece. I chose picture three.


Her time alone.


It was mother’s time. Every morning between five and seven. No one was allowed to spoil it. Terence, Keith and I had no choice but to obey. We knew that to do anything else would’ve been too painful. She never had to hit us to make us stay in bed; she simply had to cry. Her power had always been in her tears. She would weep with sharp little intakes of breath, just like she did that night the phone rang and all colour seemed to disappear, when people streamed through the house with wide, strained eyes, repeating lots of exaggerated things about my father.

Mysteries for children, though, are unbearable. One summer morning, way before the alarm sounded, I decided that I had to see for myself how mother spent those few hours alone. It had never occurred to me that all I had to do was sneak along the edge of the landing and in behind the statue that my father had brought back from Moscow. Between the smooth legs of some handsome Russian oligarch, I had a splendid view of the living and dining rooms.

At first I didn’t spot her, probably because I had expected to see some kind of obvious activity such as letter writing or the altering of one of her dresses. When I finally spotted her shape by the window, way off to my left, I was surprised at how elegant and relaxed she looked in her dressing gown. My mother was standing before me and nothing looked familiar. I had never seen her chest area so uncovered. I had never seen her with a hand on her hip, actually looking rather sexy. I had to fight the urge to go and wake up Terence and Keith.

I remained in the same position for a good ten minutes, with my knees scrunched up to my chin. I just watched her. It didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel like anything. After a while I tried to imagine what her eyes might be fixed on. She hardly moved, except to raise her mug to her lips a few times. I kept looking. She kept looking. I imagined that our breathing shared the same measured, relaxed pace.

Then, without any warning, she put a hand up and started waving. There was something unreal and disturbing about the wave though; the movement was slow and deliberate, as if she weren’t sure if the other person could see her. I immediately understood.

When mother turned around to place her mug on the table, I could tell that she’d been crying: the tears had made her chest all shiny and the skin beneath her eyes was swollen. I desperately wanted to race down the stairs and comfort her, to tell her that things would get easier with time, just as she’d told the three of us. But I didn’t. I dared not move, afraid of how she might react. This was her time alone.


© Copyright, 2007. Seamus Kearney.

Eight Little Titbits

 
LM Noonan has tagged me for a little exercise in "getting to know who we are":

To begin with:

1. I have to post these rules before I give you the facts.
2. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
3. People who are tagged need to write their own post about their eight things and display these rules.
4. At the end of your post, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
5. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

So, here are my eight little titbits:

1. I don't eat meat. I stopped eating red meat when I was about 20, limiting myself to chicken and fish. When I moved to Europe at the age of 25 I stopped eating all meat and fish. However, in 2000, after two and a half years in France, and finding it hard to find things to eat in restaurants etc, I started eating fish again - but not chicken. I only eat fish that doesn't really taste to me like fish (salmon, tuna). It's not a natural instinct for me to want to cook, chew and swallow meat, and I never liked the taste of it.

2. I used to have a mild stammer and a stutter when I was a child, probably caused by the fact that I had so much to say and spoke too fast. It became less severe as I got older but I still had some terrible times in my teenage years. I avoided words starting with k, m, s, r, among others, and always had alternatives up my sleeve if a word refused to leave my mouth (good vocabulary skills). I had a breakthrough in high school though: I discovered I didn't have any problem when speaking in front of large groups doing speeches, debating etc. I tried to emulate this 'public speaking' style in my everyday speech and things ended up improving dramatically. I went on to work as a radio reporter/presenter (and later television), which probably surprised those who remembered me as the poor kid who stammered.

3. I discovered a few years ago, via my "better half", that I have what is known as "restless foot syndrome". This means that during the night my feet shake and I sometimes kick out. Not nice for the person beside me. I also don't understand how Miss Muffin is quite happy to keep sleeping at the foot of our bed during the night. I don't think this condition is all that serious and I've never sought medical advice about it. I think it has something to do with circulation and the electrical system "unwinding". I hope so.

4. I am a "born-again" grammar fanatic. I developed a big interest in correct grammar when I started to learn French. Basically, for me, it was important to know English grammar inside out in order to learn how everything worked in French. Before learning French, I had to relearn English. I like the idea of breaking the rules though - deliberately - for effect. I also love introducing new words into the language. I love grammar that makes writing more interesting and breaks things up into more interesting parcels, with more interesting rhythms.

5. I have never been anyone's fan. Right from an early age I hated the whole concept of people idolising someone else: singers, authors, personalities. I have maintained this throughout my life and can never understand the "mania" that surrounds celebrity figures. For me, people are just people. Of course, I wouldn't mind if someone decided to become my fan!

6. I bite my nails. It's a terrible, disgusting habit, which just won't go away. I bite right down to the sensitive skin, until it hurts. I've bitten my nails for as long as I can remember. I tried those nasty-tasting lotions, but I always ended up liking the taste and got right back to chewing. Doctors say I probably have a very strong immune system due to the constant intake of bacteria. On the odd occasion that I have let my nails grow I couldn't bear it; I had the constant sensation that my nails were being dragged down a blackboard.

7. I am a manic checker. I check to see if the front door is locked several times before I'm satisfied that it really is locked. I will often get up out of bed to go and double check. I will often walk back to my car to double check that I've locked it. I always push the button on the remote a few times before I'm satisfied that it's locked. When I'm driving I keep pushing the buttons that operate the electric windows, to make sure that the windows are properly closed, with no little gap at the top. (After a real effort in recent months, I'm happy to say that I now do this less often).

8. I hate it when people talk at the cinema. I need to have total silence during a film and can't bear to be with someone who talks to me during a movie. Even one little comment will drive me crazy. I need to be totally immersed in the universe the film has created and I get irritated if I am taken out of that. I lost a potential friend once when I told him how annoyed I was at his non-stop, banal commentary during a film.

Yes, I know, I am dangerous and unstable! I should be committed!

Now, I tag these people from my sidebar to see what they have to reveal about themselves:

Cate Sweeney.
Doors Left Open.
Skint Writer.
Good Thomas.
Kat's Random Thoughts.
Locution.
Once In A Blue Muse.
Word Carving.