Reads of 2022

Owing to unforeseen circumstances, namely having broken my wrist, I won’t be blogging much, and my publishing plans will change a little this year. For now I’ll leave you with my 2022 reading round-up. I set myself a goal of 75 books and, including audio, I managed 80. Noting some of my favourite books, here goes:

Cunning Folk, Adam L.G. Nevill
Having experienced bad neighbours, this book contained some personal horror for me, so much so, I found it hard to switch off after reading one section. Yes, this is supernatural horror, but the twin joys of moving in a money pit of a house next door to the worse neighbours one can imagine makes for a memorable folk horror. I must admit, the ‘folk next door’ presented a greater horror than what might be out in the woods for me. Maybe disturbing more than scary, but, though horror is a favourite genre for me, I’ve yet to find a truly scary book. I found a few of the descriptive sentences a little too much, perhaps excessively flowery, needing to read them twice, but I find Nevill’s style of work compelling, so even an occasional awkward sentence would never deter me. Opinions are just that, anyway, with no true right or wrong. I’m a reader who appreciates an author who takes me on an unexpected journey, and I also appreciate Nevill has an extensive vocabulary. The descent into madness (neighbours driving a person crazy), is spot-on and disturbingly delightful.

Thud, Terry Pratchett
A less humorous book than many other Discworld novels, but so intelligent. There’s a lot of subtexts here covering government, racism, human nature, among others, with all the stupidity that comes along with these failings. An education in erudition with Sam Vimes, the teacher of the decade. And most of all, a book where every reader will root for Sam to get home on time to read ‘Where’s my Cow?’

Hex, Thomas Olde Heuvelt
This book may well be unique in terms of a haunting. The setting is not a haunted house but an entire village, and the ‘ghost’ is that of a witch which has corporal form yet the ability to wander at will. Something of a slow burn in places it’s received a few mixed reviews, though fans who love not to be rushed and like Stephen King, might get on well with this. I hated every moment I had to put it down. Written in mostly omnipresent head-hopping viewpoints, the novel suffers from an overuse of cliches, but the story blows these minor issues aside. There’s so much subtext here, dealing with all we know about violence and fear, and of how humans don’t need true evil to misbehave. The revelation of evil is inspired, and the ending is a simply perfect conclusion, pulling all threads together. I’ve seen reviews from those who feel otherwise, but it comes down to what the reader wants from a horror story. I’ve yet to find such a book that truly scares me. Some have come close to disturbing me, but for me, that’s not quite the same thing. Hex does neither, but I loved this book, found it insidiously fascinating. This story will always be with me, as will my copy, and that’s what the best books have — an unforgettable quality. Would make an excellent film if done well.

Operation Wildcat and Other Stores, Edited by Tim Gambrell
Not sure I should review this as it contains one of my stories, so let me just say my favourite idea in the book is Honourable Discharge by Chris Lynch, though I also liked Old Fowlkes’ Home by Martin Parker as it’s an Anne Travers story.

The Mangle Street Murders, M.R.C.Kasasian
Best described as a black comedy, the novel deals with a series of grisly murders and a seemingly unsolvable crime, but the most criminal thing about the story is the unrepentant and awful personality of Grice — a detective far more cutting than Sherlock and darkly comic because of it. The type of blunt and terrible temperament, one cannot help but laugh at and cringe while doing so. I loved to loathe him, though loathe is too strong a word. The tale’s told through the viewpoint of his ward, March Middleton, and it is as much about her having to put up with Grice as her strength and determination that makes this book amusing. And like any good detective story, there’s a meandering puzzle that only the warped mind of Grice could easily work out. I’ll be reading more of these.

Crazy for You, Jennifer Crusie
Loved this immediately. Quinn’s fury over the dog is priceless, and understandable to pet owners everywhere. The author well worked the overlapping relationships in this story. Women everywhere will get the issue the women have, and men reading this might become enlightened. Nick and Quinn are excellent characters for a romance. One word of warning: this book could contain triggering issues for abuse victims, though dealt with well toward the end. A few viewpoints may also seem outdated, but then all books are of their time.

Who Censored Roger Rabbit, Gary Wolf
When a book makes you laugh in the first few sentences, it’s a good sign, but I know not everyone feels this way. I suppose it depends how attached to the Disney film you are. The book’s different, written in a more serious tone. I have to say I liked both versions. I found the noir detective feel and ‘heard’ an occasional sentence as spoken by Bob Hoskins. This book isn’t the film. Anyone expecting that is bound to feel disappointed. Roger’s in no way as zany, but I liked the character’s development and grew extremely attached to him, though in a completely different way from the film. I can’t say more without giving away the ending, but it even plucked at the old heartstrings. I own the other three books and will read them.

The Sleeper and the Spindle, Neil Gaiman
A short story of a re-imagined fairy tale from one of my favourite writers brought to life with the meticulously illustrated works of Chris Riddell. I know it’s aimed at children but had to have it as part of my Gaiman collection, and it’s a beautiful book to look at and handle. I would have loved this as a child and still do as an adult.

Bet Me, Jennifer Crusie
This fast-paced, hysterical romance has to be one of Crusie’s best books. I’ve always loved her banter, but here almost every line is perfect and funny. A story about a commitment phobe, a woman who has viewed herself through her mother’s eyes for too many years, and a shabby cat that loves Elvis Presley’s music. This might be classed as a big beautiful woman book, though truly Min is a perfectly normal woman. After reading this, many women will want their own ‘donut pusher’. This doesn’t beat my favourite book of hers, but it’s close, winning on the laughs alone.

The Vessel, Adam L.G.Nevill
All the way through this book, I kept thinking this book should be a film, which makes perfect sense once I got to the end and read the author’s notes. The old woman struck me as the harbinger of evil, and there didn’t have to be anything supernatural about her to make me shudder. But this is horror, so nothing is straightforward. Present tense omnipresent isn’t really a style I love, but for this book, it’s perfect. We see the action from a wide camera lens, which does a good job rocketing up tension. I wasn’t terrified, but found this satisfying creepy with a conclusion I adored. A short but entertaining read that’s a perfect example of dark fiction, which I feel has a broader connotation than horror.

A Short Stay in Hell, Steven L.Peck
How does one even describe this novella of only 100 pages? At first I found it somewhat tedious, but that only seems right considering the events in the story. Slowly, I found I couldn’t put it down. As a lover of books, I thought eternity in a library doesn’t sound like such a bad thing… until I learned the truth of those books. Then the truth of love found and lost, which seemed even greater punishment. A truer horror was the inevitability of some human natures. Though a simple idea, here, the author proves hell doesn’t have to contain hellfire to be torturous. A horror novel? No. And certainly not horrific. But insidiously horrifying.

A House at the Bottom of a Lake, Josh Malerman
Some books defy definition and this is one. Some will love this; others loathe it. I honestly don’t know what I just read. I know I enjoyed it, but was it good, or was it bad? There are some creepy moments, in part (I feel) owing to the strange setting. The underlying sense of threat in being able to drown down in the dark is present like a character all its own, but drown in what? In water? In horror? In the hope and hopelessness of love? The book reads like an allegory of love. There is menace here, but those expecting a true horror novel may be disappointed. Those approaching the story with an open mind may be better rewarded.

Last Days, Adam Nevill
Asked to film a documentary about a defunct cult is a job Kyle will come to regret. A bold idea exceedingly well-written. My only negative isn’t that it’s a long book but that it also felt a little overlong. Would take an experienced editor to know what to cut, though, as there’s a lot to take in, but I feel the length diminished the deliciously creepy suspense some. Not enough to affect my enjoyment, but for me the book loses a star because of it… which isn’t drastic criticism by any means. Had I not read the book, I would have missed a wild ride and much scary imagery. Extremely imaginative and well worth spending time with.

Piranesi, Susanna Clarke.
A strange book that made me question what in the world I was reading. It’s certainly memorable. Like it or not, this story may well stay with the reader for a long time, if not forever. All the number of day in the month of the albatross in the number of hall got rather monotonous, which made me feel uncertain at first, but the more I read the more engrossed I became. The best thing about this book is the way the author reveals the mystery, and the way she builds Piranesi’s world in the mind. To my mind, this is no Strange and Norrell epic (the first book for which the author’s so well-known), but it’s still impressive, mostly in its construction. On a minor note, though a small volume, the hardback is a lovely-looking book to have on the shelves.

Who P-P-P-Plugged Roger Rabbit?, Gary K.Wolf
At the start of this book, I felt I would not enjoy it as much as the first, but as soon as a short relative of Jessica’s was introduced, I laughed all the way to the end. Gary has the witty patter down p-p-p-perfectly. I have such fond memories of the film, but feel as though the rabbit written here is worth loving all over again. I’m also left feeling a mite sorry for him, which only adds to the charm of these stories. Another surprise to enjoy was a whole new take of how Gone With the Wind was cast.

Pan’s Labyrinth, Guillermo Del Toro & Cornelia Funke
If you’ve watched the film, there’s no real reason to read the book, though I wanted to, and the lovely illustrations, and the stories within the story, which aren’t told on screen enhance the experience. The book’s a charming keepsake and complements the film somewhat as it’s always nice to get internalisations which almost no film provides. Also, the book is English, whereas the film is Spanish with English subtitles (not that I find subtitles a problem). Neither the book nor the film is a fairy tale for young children owing to the violence and imagery, but is a wonderful fantasy for some teens and adults alike.

Ending with my outstanding reads of the year I have to go back to a classic and to an audio dramatisation:

Something Wicked This Way Comes, Ray Bradbury
I thought I’d read this when young, but I remembered little of it. It’s more likely someone told me the story, because had I read this, there’s no way I would have forgotten the writing. I can’t help thinking had I ever turned in a story written in such a style, my teachers would have thrown fits, siting grammar rules until I grew dizzy. But this is the indomitable Bradbury and not only does he know how to break the rules, he does it so well. Some of my teachers would have cited that many sentences don’t make grammatical sense, and they don’t in a purist way, but what they do is conjure up sensations and emotions. Take the title alone, which at least one teacher would have told me should read Something Wicked Comes This Way… but it would never have been so memorable; would never be so visceral. Plus, there’s the multi-layers of subtext: a book about good and evil, being young, growing old, accepting these things, not harping on them, not worrying about them and not fearing them so much one forgets to live, to enjoy and feel blessed every day. It also speaks of friendship and family, of love, and of laughing in the face of despair as a way of pushing back the darkness — the sorrows of life and the eventual darkness. I’m sure others will find their own interpretations, but for me, this book covers the gamut of life and death in all its joys and woes. Chilling, full of dread, atmospheric, mesmerising, thrilling, captivating, and masterfully executed.

The Sandman (Volume One), Neil Gaiman and cast (audio dramatisation)
Thoroughly loved this. Maybe you need to be a fan of the source material, but this is an enjoyable and faithful representation of the graphic novels. Some purists may not agree, but I feel this added to my appreciation of the books and Gaiman’s work. With a great cast, including Michael Sheen, Andy Serkis, and Bebe Neuwith, James McAvoy is the perfect choice for Morpheus. It’s a lovely thought that this production also brings the story to the blind.

Update Nov 2022

Hi Everyone!

AT HOME:
Got away to visit relatives and then broke the homeward journey with a stop in Winchester, which makes for a decent city break especially when the Christmas Market is on. This year it ran from 18th November to the 22nd December, but there was some mixup on our last night when we intended to pop back just to have some chestnuts and the like. The website distinctly says it’s open for part of the week until 8pm from Thursday, but we found it closing at 6. We weren’t the only ones caught out. One woman who arrived the same time as us exclaimed, “But the email I got this morning said 8.” We had at least been and seen it in both daylight and in the dark, but had we gone there for only one evening to find it shut, we wouldn’t have been pleased to make a wasted trip. Now I feel the information’s untrustworthy. Still, we enjoyed ourselves, walking a tottering 7.5 miles on the first day, seeing the sights and staggering up to the viewpoint.

FILM/TV:
We’re nearing the end of Star Trek Deep Space 9 at long last. I had forgotten Dax died and oddly enough, recently discovered the reason was the actress wanted less screen time, so in a fit of pique they wrote her out entirely. Can’t help feeling it harmed the series a little. Out of all the series, we’re always felt DS9 was the most consistent.

We were undecided whether to watch Netflix’s film Don’t Look Up, but while away after an exhausting day, we put our feet up and watched it. Enjoyed it much more than we thought we would. Enjoyable satire not just on politics but on modern society and social media.

Guillermo Del Toro’s Cabinet of Curiosities on Netflix garnered mixed reactions and I can see why. People expect so much from him. I enjoyed especially the Graveyard Rats episode.

WRITING:
Aside from my personal project, I’m taking a break from writing until the new year, though I’m also reading for research, so it’s all related. Next year, I plan to do better.

Stay happy and healthy!
Sharon x

So, you think it’s cold out…

Well, yes, that’s because it is, but every time I feel like moaning, I spare a thought for those who are homeless and those who, for whatever reason, don’t have access to central heating, though with rising prices, that includes a great deal more of us this year. Honestly, I feel we’re returning to my grandparents’ time, of how ‘being cold’ was something they not only expected, but put up with without complaint. Not that I’m suggesting anyone should do so now. We’re supposed to move forward, not slip back. Every generation expects the next to see improvements, to have a better life.

The council found my grandparents on my mother’s side alternative housing owing to such supposed improvements (I say supposed because I’ve now have reason to believe they were told lies as to those reasons). I was an infant, but I have vague memories of the old house is the important issue here. The door opened on a long, narrow corridor, with a room to the right. At the end of the house, stairs on the left led up, or further along a corridor led to the right. The stairs were dark and steep, and I remember them distinctly because I once fell down them. They went to a first floor where my grandparents had their living room/kitchen, and their bedroom. Another flight of stairs went to another level, where there were two more bedrooms. There was no bathroom. The only room to have heating was the living room/kitchen, where a fire burned in the stove for heat and for cooking.

The corridor at the bottom of the house led directly into the scullery. I recall the house had some sort of furnace that provided a hot water supply, but the house definitely had no central heating. Few houses did back then. A large tin bath hung on a hook in the scullery, and when people wanted a bath, they would take this bath up to the living room, placed it in front of the fire, and filled with hot water. Owing to the difficulties of having a bath, many people didn’t bother to have a full wash nightly. We knew some families where a bath was a weekly ritual, but I recall my grandmother always made sure I was as clean as could be (I can feel her scrubbing behind my ears to this day), and that she wouldn’t go to bed without using a bowl of water for herself.

The scullery also contained a sink, and it was here that my grandmother would do the family’s laundry. I can still picture her green glass scrubbing board and the old wooden mangle. People didn’t have washing machines and were lucky if there was a local laundromat or could afford to use them regularly if one was available. Washing meant hard graft — soaping up clothes and scrubbing them against the ridges of the glass board, then setting all the washed clothes aside to rinse. Once rinsed, my nan passed the clothes through the mangle, then hung them in the yard to dry. Once dry, she ironed them, not with an electric iron, but a hot plate iron that was set on the fire. There was no temperature control, and one had to be careful not to burn the clothing.

The door from the scullery led out into the small yard — half concrete, half soil, the soil area fenced off and used by my grandfather to grow vegetables. Not because he enjoyed gardening as a hobby, but because they needed to supplement their food supply. He would also grow tomatoes up on the roof, but that’s a whole other story.

My grandfather would play football with me in this yard, which was surrounded by brick walls. There was one other door out in the yard and this led to the outside toilet. I only remember visiting and cannot recall using it, but I do recall stories my grandfather would tell of going out there late at night during winter and having to chip the ice off the seat before he dared to sit down, hoping skin didn’t stick.

This is making me sound as if I’m 90, but this isn’t so long ago. We’re talking late 60s and even into the 70s. I never had central heating until I left home at age 21. My parents never had central heating until two years later.

Did we moan? Yes. Sometimes we did. I can recall going to school in the snow up to my knees and they still expected us to get there. Occasionally, they turned us away at the gate and we had to trudge back home again. There were times we complained about being cold. We washed one limb at a time, quickly covering it. We got dressed under the covers while still in bed in the morning, and we weren’t the only ones doing it. I can talk to my mother-in-law, who had a completely different upbringing in a separate part of the country, and yes, I admit she’s much older than I; still, she can remember similar stories. She never had central heating until the late 1980s. Remembers coping because that’s just what people did. She tells me that people seldom got sick out in the country, although I can’t say the same for people I knew living in London, where some places were ill-looked after and sometimes damp. My parents didn’t even have an actual fire — they had to make do with electric heaters, which were costly.

So whenever I’m snug indoors, I’m reminded it could be much worse. I remember hard times that people didn’t even know were hard, but simply accepted as the way things were. I remember slipping and sliding, trying to walk to school, and I remember it feeling as cold inside as it was out, even while there was snow on the ground. Mostly, though, I recall with a nostalgic smile my grandfather drawing a jagged shape in the ice on his bedroom window, and telling me, “Look, Jack Frost is here.”

The way so many are struggling now doesn’t feel so nostalgic. Only painful and pitiful that the world has moved backwards.

Update Oct 2022

Hi Everyone!

AT HOME:
Made some headway exploring some National Trust parkland. It’s so easy to only visit the houses and listed highlights, but many properties have extensive parklands we’d be stupid not to take advantage of. A strange thing about living in the countryside is city dwellers often exclaim over how nice it must be to live somewhere surrounded by all those fields. What they forget is that doesn’t always make for a walker’s paradise. Those fields are owned by farmers. You can only cross them on a public right of way, and even then that means brambles, and stinging nettles, and cow pats in your path, not to mention the occasional bull if you’re not careful. At least plenty of mud. Living in the countryside doesn’t always mean a ready amount of available and ready walks. It’s necessary also to remember that as far as you walk in one direction, you need to retrace your steps back to the car, or be fully aware of the landmarks of a circular trail.

WRITING:
I’m working on a personal project not for publication except possibly for a few friends, which sounds mysterious, but like I say, it’s personal. I will produce more work next year and all writing is good practice. The amount of work I’ve produced is poor this year, but that’s how it goes sometimes when living with chronic pain.

Stay happy and healthy!
Sharon x

Autumn

Though famous as a time of harvest, turning, and falling leaves, a drop in temperature, and arguments over when it begins (equinox on 22nd or 23rd September, meteorological on the 1st, or traditionally known to occur on the 21st), the season no longer seems to offer the chill but crisp and sunny walks among crisp leaves it once did. I’m tired of hearing ‘it’s typical autumnal weather’ on the news reports when the weather forecasters speak of a recent deluge. Still, I cannot help but love the colours of autumn, in clothes and in nature, and the fun of Halloween. The weather doesn’t always obey the dictations of my heart, but still for me, autumn shall always remain the best time of the year. For me, ‘Tis the season’.

Update August 2022

With the new-look website, I thought I’d separate my updates from my recommended reads from now on to make things more accessible.

AT HOME:

August was a month in which we visited relatives, did a lot of work on the garden, avoided the worst of the heat as much as we could, and complained summer’s almost over when the temperature cooled and the rain at last came, although I much prefer cooler weather. The garden’s complete as much as these things ever are. We got rid of some older plants which had turned woody, planted a buddleia in the ground as it’s had its prescribed two years in a pot, and opened up the gazebo by removing one side panel to the end as we now have established plants. Not buying any more plants. What lives, lives, and what dies, dies. If we absolutely must replace something, it will be with a plant we’ve learned from experience will survive here.

FILM/TV:

At long last got to see The Sandman from Neil Gaiman brought to the screen courtesy of Netflix. I have loved the graphic novels for years, and Gaiman is one of my favourite authors. I’ve also loved the audio dramatisations of Sandman, and own the bookends, so no way was I going to be disappointed to see it at long last filmed. Though there have been comments on the series being too ‘woke’, sometimes from people who have no inkling of the source material, and granted there were a couple of characters I would have liked to see translated to screen exactly as seen in the books, but overall the series was so well adapted (and certainly better than any adaptation we’ve been threatened with in the past—adaptations which might have seen The Sandman on screen sunk forever), I loved every moment. Part of me can’t help wishing the series was as dark as the books (Cain and Abel anyone? LOL), but I can understand why they softened it to make it more accessible.

We’re also watch the last series of Locke & Key, and while I’ve enjoyed all three seasons of a work again adapted from graphic novels by author Joe Hill (Stephen King’s son for those who don’t know), the characters irritated me somewhat for making stupid decisions a little more often than I’d like. That’s fine for season one when they don’t know what they’re doing and have been launched into a magical world, but characters are supposed to go through a transformation in all forms of literature which means they should have learned by the final season and mistakes should be fewer, not as many or more. I’ve not read the source material, so can’t comment on what Hill foresaw for his characters, and I did like the conclusion.

WRITING:

I’m still deep into a lot of self-editing and just as well. I’ve not been able to wear my wedding rings for weeks owing to a heat rash that came up between two fingers. Despite my best efforts and several creams, if the current one doesn’t work I’ll have to speak to the pharmacist in the hope I won’t need to contact my doctor. In short, it refuses to heal, and I’m having to wear something to separate my fingers, which makes typing difficult, so like it or not for the time being more editing it is, as that requires far less use of my left hand.