Wenlock Books

Christmas Fayre

2011-12-02T00:02:00.003Z

We are inviting children to write their letters to Father Christmas (and to post them in our specially built, shiny red letter-box which has express delivery direct to the North Pole!), on the day of the Christmas Fayre, Saturday December 3rd.

We will serve delicious (non-alcoholic) mulled wine on the day. As you may know, the bookshop is now a friend of Conakry Refugee School and we invite all letter-writers to make a
donation to Conakry School.

HELP THESE CHILDREN ...

2011-12-01T23:44:00.004Z

Help these children get lunch at school by supporting the Friends of Conakry Refugee School www.fcrs.org.uk.

You can buy beautiful photgraphic gift cards to give instead of Christmas presents.

You can enter a 'line draw' (like a raffle but without the tickets) to win a half case of champagne. (From Wenlock Books 01952 727877)

You can become a Friend of Conakry Refugee School.

Every penny raised will make a real difference in the lives of these children who have lost so much, and are grateful for so little.

Give or act now - and see how GOOD it feels!

Thank you,

Anna.

DEBBIE CASSELL

2011-11-29T10:33:00.003Z

A Shropshire town will be filled with the sound of music next month as it hosts a night of singing and relaxing before its annual Christmas fair.

Wenlock Pottery has a fine reputation in hosting laid-back musical events and the log fire will be burning and the drinks flowing on December 2 as Debbie Cassell is welcomed to the venue.

Debbie grew up in Shropshire, began singing at a young age and was writing songs before she entered her teens. Since then she has performed all over the UK and Europe and released two solo albums - Angel in Labour in 1995 and The Boatman’s White Dog in 2007.

Anna Dreda, of Wenlock Books, said the town is pleased to welcome Debbie.

She said: “I've been a fan of Debbie Cassell's gorgeous voice ever since her brother Richard introduced me to Angels in Labour many years ago.

“Last year Debbie came to Wenlock as part of the Joni Mitchell Project with Sally Barker of The Poozies and Glenn Hughes. She promptly became a fan of Wenlock and immediately offered to come back with her own show.

“I am delighted to be able to offer this event at Wenlock Pottery the night before the traditional Wenlock Christmas Fayre – we hope people will join us for the weekend.

“Debbie is the daughter of Lys Pead, the winner of last year’s Wenlock Poetry Festival Poetry Competition and some of that poetic ability has certainly rubbed off on Debbie whose lyrics are musical poetry.

“Wenlock Pottery, with its cabaret seating, wood-burning stove, well-stocked bar and intimate atmosphere, is such a great venue for a singer like Debbie. Her voice can’t be easily categorised – it’s a bit folk, a bit jazz, a bit blues and a lot lovely.”

Tickets are £5 and are available from Wenlock Books or on the door at the Pottery. For more information contact Anna on (01952) 727877.

DEBBIE CASSELL

2011-11-27T21:37:00.004Z

I've been a fan of Debbie Cassell's gorgeous voice ever since her brother Richard introduced me to Angels in Labour many years ago. Last year Debbie came to Wenlock as part of the Joni Mitchell Project with Sally Barker of the Poozies and Glenn Hughes. Debbie promptly became a fan of Wenlock and immediately offered to come back with her own show. I am delighted to be able to offer this event at Wenlock Pottery on Friday December 2nd - the night before the traditional Wenlock Christmas Fayre - so why not come for the weekend!! http://www.myspace.com/debbiecassell

Tickets are just £5, and there will be a licensed bar. Our venue is Wenlock Pottery - our fave event destination - a roaring log fire, cabaret seating and a very warm welcome from Sheilagh and co all combine to promise a great night out.

Do join us for our last event of the year!

Remember too, it's Wenlock Christmas Fayre the following day - the town will be buzzing, and we will be serving mulled wine in the shop to add to the festive spirit! My traditional Christmas window is warm and red and hard to miss - do call in! Children very welcome all day too (with Mums, Dads, Grand-parents etc) and let your children write their letter to Father Christmas and post it in our very, very special North Pole Letter Box!

POETRY AT THE POTTERY!

2011-11-18T14:25:00.003Z

BRITAIN’S TEA POET SERVES UP A WARMING BREW IN WENLOCK

Crossing her home county border for a special trip from her home in Bromyard, Elizabeth Darcy Jones – Britain’s Tea Poet - joins Much Wenlock’s Poetry Festival founder, Anna Dreda and guests for ‘Afternoon Tea with a difference’ at Wenlock Pottery on Friday 26^th November at 3 pm (tickets £10 to include a copy of Distinguished Leaves, tea and cakes.) The pottery has created some bizarre teapots over the years: from a giant ‘Mad Hatter’s’ teapot to an equally crazy two spouted pot but this is the first time they’ve showcased a poet spouting poetry about tea.

Drawing on material from her book, ‘Distinguished Leaves: Poems for Tea-Lovers’ (with a Foreword by Nigel Havers) Elizabeth describes different teas as characters in vibrant verse, punctuated by anecdote describing the remarkable ‘serendipitea’ that has led to being dubbed Britain’s Tea Poet, and last month being appointed Poet In Residence at Mayfair’s The Chesterfield Hotel. The book came into being thanks to Shropshire based Quiller Publishing who signed their first poet after being charmed by two poems – one about lazy monk, Lapsang Souchong and the charming ‘Earl Grey’ ‘He’s such a Nigel Havers of a tea’… Their M.D., Andrew Johnston says, ‘This volume is an absolute delight, making sophisticated teas and verse accessible to all.’

Passionate about bringing poetry to new audiences in little sips, Elizabeth sees her subject – tea – with the potential to put ‘love back on the table, along with the teapot’. She believes (as ancient Chinese and Korean literature suggests) that poetry is the natural language of tea and is inspiring people from all walks of life, from hairdressers and children to high powered business executives to enjoy ‘poetea’ – tea poetry.

The book resembles an adult Beatrix Potter and the author will be signing copies as guests indulge in chocolate cake, scones and hot crumpets while sipping the tea that belongs to the county, Shropshire Blend.

2011-11-06T22:52:00.014Z

Here are some gift ideas for Christmas - I hope you like them! (Please buy them from an independent bookshop - keep books on the High Street!)

A sumptuous gift book at £40 - full of stunning images from the acclaimed 'Earth from the Air' photographer Yann Arthus-Bertrand. Seen from the air, New York is an exotic, uncluttered, beautiful place. This tribute to the city of New York offers all the images from the original edition (2003) along with 18 new photographs chosen with sensitivity to the tragic events of 9/11.

Whether you're new to knitting or already a wonder with wool, The Knitting Book is a bible that no knitter should be without. Packed with essential advice, inspiring ideas and 40 knitting projects, the book includes all you need to get started or develop your skills. Knitting terminology is demystified and step-by-step photography of each technique along with handy "galleries" of popular stitches stop you getting your needles in a knot. A snip at £25.00 (and you can buy your wool at Ippikin's!)

Hardman's portrait of the reign of Elizabeth II is beautifully observed and shows why she is one of the most admired heads of state in the postwar world. £20.

Everyone knows three things about the Women’s Institute: that they spent the war making jam; the Calendar Girls were WI; and, more recently, we had that subversive slow-hand-clapping of Tony Blair. 215,000 women in the UK belong to the WI: at £20 this fascinating book by Jane Robinson will makeca great gift for one of them!

Andrew Allott brings together a wealth of material in the latest New Naturalist volume, much of which is published here for the first time. Presenting the first large-scale survey of the Welsh borderlands, covering Wenlock Edge and much of Shropshire, he offers a complete natural history of the area, covering the hills, fossils, ice ages, meres, mosses, forests, streams and rivers, whilst also focusing on man’s impact on the region, the changing wildlife, the impact of agriculture and the consequences of past and present industrial action. £50 - a serious gift!

This lovely book includes over 870 of the most inspiring churches and chapels to be found in England, Scotland and Wales. Published by the AA in partnership with the National Churches Trust at £25.

Santa leaves his workshop on Christmas Eve and zooms across the bustling city, over a snowy mountain village and finally to the homes of all the sleeping children as he delivers their presents. Little children will love watching the pull-back Santa toy whizz around the tracks built into the colourful festive scenes. A book and a toy combined, at £14.99 this is a fantastic gift, guaranteed to delight and entertain young children.

Did you know Alfie is 30? Much loved by my children, I am now looking forward to introducing my grand-children to this most lovable character. In this 30th anniversary special edition, Alfie and his best friend Bernard have a day out full of surprises when they go to meet a very special person indeed. What's more there are secret dens to explore, snowy skies, birthday fun and a very unexpected visitor! £10.99.

The best stocking-filler ever, this £5.99 edition of the Poet Laureate's celebration of the magic of Christmas Eve is gorgeous - no home should be without one! (At the time of writing there are just ten places left for our Christmas Eve candle-lit reading of this and The Night Before Christmas - don't delay booking if you want to come!)

POET TEA

2011-11-05T16:49:00.001Z

Poet-Tea

Join Britain's Tea Poet, Elizabeth Darcy Jones for an Afternoon Tea with a difference, at Wenlock Pottery.

The Tea Poet, will host Afternoon Tea on Friday 25th November, and will be reading poems from her new book 'Distinguished Leaves: Poems for Tea Lovers' at diner's tables throughout the afternoon.

Elizabeth's poetry celebrates different teas and tea people, revealing their characters and unique personalities in an accessible and entertaining way.

Katherine Swift and Mirabel Ostler

2011-08-31T19:59:00.000Z

Katherine Swift and Mirabel Ostler

Two gardeners, garden-writers and great friends will bring to Much Wenlock the event they wowed Hay with! This event will take place at Wenlock Pottery on Friday 16th September, 7.30pm. Tickets are £10 to include cheese and wine. Katherine will be promoting her latest book in the Morville series - The Morville Year. Mirabel will be talking about her long-awaited follow-up to A Gentle Plea for Chaos, The Rain Tree, also published by Bloomsbury.

To book, phone 01952 727877 to book, or call in at the bookshop, 12 High Street, Much Wenlock.

EVENTS & NEWS

2011-07-21T16:37:00.012Z

So much is happening in the shop that I want to be able to tell you about - do call in if you can over the summer: we have some gorgeous Cath Kidston books and stationery in stock and a range of new books from the ever popular Barefoot Books. Little Toller books are our new publishing favourites - although Everyman's Library, Eland and Persephone continue to charm and delight!! Just come and see for yourself what a good bookshop looks like!

Children's Poetry Summer School
We are looking forward to hosting this Summer School with Wenlock Poetry Festival. Dates are August 15th - 19th, each morning from 10 o'clock until 12.30pm. I will be co-presenting with poets Roz Goddard, Angela Topping, Deb Alma and (tbc) Mandy Ross - to whom I am enormously grateful for the generous and lively way they have responded to this new idea! We will work with each poet individually, but the children will also work on a sustained piece of writing throughout the week, so they can enjoy the sense of going back to a piece and editing, drafting, polishing and then performing! Cost is £20 and there are only six places left at the time of writing.

To book, phone 01952 727877 to book, or call in at the bookshop, 12 High Street, Much Wenlock.

Katherine Swift and Mirabel Ostler

Two gardeners, garden-writers and great friends will bring to Much Wenlock the event they wowed Hay with! This event will take place at Wenlock Pottery on Friday 16th September, 7.30pm. Tickets are £10 to include cheese and wine. Katherine will be promoting her latest book in the Morville series - The Morville Year. Mirabel will be talking about her long-awaited follow-up to A Gentle Plea for Chaos, The Rain Tree, also published by Bloomsbury.

To book, phone 01952 727877 to book, or call in at the bookshop, 12 High Street, Much Wenlock.

Celebrating the life and work of Mary Webb - a talk by Gladys Mary Coles.

This year sees the 130th anniversary of the birth of Shropshire's Mary Webb. Acclaimed Mary Webb expert, writer, poet and chair of the Mary Webb Society, Gladys Mary Coles, will present an evening talk on the importance of Much Wenlock in the work of Mary Webb. Tickets £3. Bar available. This event will take place at Wenlock Pottery.

To book, phone 01952 727877 to book, or call in at the bookshop, 12 High Street, Much Wenlock.

The Poozies!
Charity concert at The Edge Arts Centre (this is a change of venue) on Thursday October 6th. Tickets are £10 each, there are also limited tickets available for a pre-concert supper at Wenlock Pottery. All proceeds to go to Friends of Conakry Refugee School (www.fcrs.org.uk). I still can't quite believe that the amazing Poozies are going to be here in Much Wenlock! How lucky are we! Please buy your tickets soon to avoid disappointment and to help us put on a truly fabulous evening!

To book, phone 01952 727877 to book, or call in at the bookshop, 12 High Street, Much Wenlock.

The Godless Boys by Naomi Wood - author supper

On October 14th at 7.30pm, there will be a supper and talk at Wenlock Pottery with guest speaker, Naomi Woods.

If you were forced to live with faith, or without, which would you choose?

England, 1986. The Church controls the country, and all members of the Secular Movement have been expelled to the Island. On the Island, religion is outlawed. A gang of boys patrols the community, searching for signs of faith, and punishing any believers.

When an English girl arrives – intent on finding her mother who disappeared, mysteriously, ten years ago – she is swept up in the dangerous games of the gang. But while one boy falls in love with her, the other wants revenge for the wrongs of the past, and, as the violence escalates, the English girl becomes their pawn.

The Godless Boys is a book about faith, and life without faith; about love, and its absence. But above all, it's about power, and how dangerous it can be to stand out from the crowd. Both violent and tender, it’s a remarkable debut, and clearly marks Naomi Wood as a name to note.

We're inviting people to join us for supper at the Pottery for a Reading for Pleasure event with a difference! Do read the book before you come so you can join in the conversation! Tickets are £20 to include a copy of the book (which Naomi will sign) and supper. The Pottery bar will be open, but groups booking a table (5 or more) will get a complimentary bottle of wine. In the style of James Naughtie's Radio 4 Bookclub, you are invited to submit questions to Naomi beforehand if you wish.

Do join us! To book, phone 01952 727877 to book, or call in at the bookshop, 12 High Street, Much Wenlock.

Poet-Tea

Join Britain's Tea Poet, Elizabeth Darcy Jones for an Afternoon Tea with a difference, at Wenlock Pottery.

The Tea Poet, will host Afternoon Tea on Friday 25th November, and will be reading poems from her new book 'Distinguished Leaves: Poems for Tea Lovers' at diner's tables throughout the afternoon.

Elizabeth's poetry celebrates different teas and tea people, revealing their characters and unique personalities in an accessible and entertaining way.

"Lick your lips for Jasmine Pearls
curves and softness, hair that curls
and tempts your mouth to form an 'O'
through which her jasmine scent will flow."

We will enjoy a variety of unusual and delicious teas, along with traditional tea-time fare, such as hot buttered crumpets (it will be winter!), chocolate cake and yummy scones! This will be a treat for all the senses!

Tickets, £10 to include a copy of the book and afternoon tea.

To book, phone 01952 727877 to book, or call in at the bookshop, 12 High Street, Much Wenlock.

Debbie Cassell

I've been a fan of Debbie Cassell's gorgeous voice ever since her brother Richard introduced me to Angels in Labour many years ago. Last year Debbie came to Wenlock as part of the Joni Mitchell Project with Sally Barker of the Poozies and Glenn Hughes. Debbie promptly became a fan of Wenlock and immediately offered to come back with her own show. I am delighted to be able to offer this event at Wenlock Pottery on Friday December 2nd - the night before the traditional Wenlock Christmas Fayre - so why not come for the weekend!! More details to follow - but save the date!

Phew - that's all for now - wishing you a sunny (?) and relaxed (?) summer season, from the wildly wonderful Outer Hebrides!

Anna x

POETRY SUMMER SCHOOL FOR CHILDREN

2011-07-21T16:08:00.001Z

Just to let you know about an exciting new development from Wenlock Poetry Festival, with Wenlock Books: we are putting on a Poetry Summer School for children aged 9 - 11 (or thereabouts!). The summer school will run from August 15th - 19th, 10 - 12.30, each morning, in the bookshop and around the town. I will be hosting and co-presenting the course, along with poets Angela Topping, Roz Goddard, Deb Alma and (TBC) Mandy Ross. Click on the link below for info, or if it doesn't work, copy and paste it into your browser.

http://www.wenlockbooks.co.uk/pdf/poetry-workshop-1.pdf

Wenlock Poetry Festival - call for Friends and Helpers!

2011-07-21T15:51:00.004Z

It seems that no sooner do we wrap up one poetry festival than we start on the next! The dates for next year are 13^th – 15^th April 2012, the weekend after Easter. We are hard at work already, and have identified some areas where we would be particularly glad of extra hands on deck. If you feel you have the skills, time and energy to help we would dearly love to hear from you. We are looking for help with 1) managing our team of volunteer helpers 2) publicity and marketing and 3) fund-raising. We are also absolutely thrilled that we now have enough knitted letter squares to make up our knitted poem, ‘Bees’ by Carol Ann Duffy. What we need now though is a small team of people to knit the squares up into what will be a pretty huge blanket! If you can help with this one task we would bite your hand off – except that you’ll need both hands for sewing, but you know what I mean! For all or any of the above, please contact me at the bookshop – 01952 727877 or email info@wenlockpoetryfestival.org. THANK YOU! Oh, and next year - can you help with hospitality for any of our artists? And - have you thought abouth becoming a Friend of the Festival? It's a great way to support the festival and to really be a part of it! Go to www.wenlockpoetryfestival.org for more information.

Not the Royal Wedding!

2011-04-25T15:22:00.023Z

The Wenlock Poetry Festival (www.wenlcokpoetryfestival.org) hitched itself to the vagaries of Easter (it will always be the weekend after) so as to be able to have a regular Spring-time slot without crashing into the bank holidays of Good Friday and Easter Monday. Little did we think, when we came up with this cunning plan, that our second festival would crash straight into the Royal Wedding!

Kate and Wills really might have consulted us, especially as the Poet Laureate is our founding patron!

So - if you are looking for something to do this weekend that doesn't involve wedding dresses, love and poetry (actually we've got all those things - but with a bit of a difference) then why not come along to the beautiful town of Much Wenlock, home to Wenlock Edge, Wenlock Books, and Wenlock Poetry Festival. You'll be assured of a warm welcome - and plenty to do, see, enjoy and chill out with.

Starting with the stars - we have plenty! Our galaxy includes Carol Ann Duffy, Simon Armitage, Ian McMillan, John Hegley and Jo Shapcott. Carol Ann will also be presenting the winners of our National Poetry Competition with their well-deserved prizes http://bit.ly/dFc4gz and http://bit.ly/e4LY7t and announcing the launch of the Adrian Henry Prize for Poetry in Art.

Miriam Margolyes is to be our Ambassador for Wenlock by giving a sell-out reading from the just-published Wenlock Poetry Festival Anthology 2011 - which every attending poet has contributed to http://bit.ly/gx3Rkk
She will also be a judge (along with John Gorman and Dreadlockalien) of our Poetry Slam, which will be held later that evening - so if you are disappointed not to be able to attend her reading, come for a hilarious night of slamming instead! http://bit.ly/e7LnBT

We also have a host of poets such as Imtiaz Dharker, Jackie Kay, Ann Gray, Clare Shaw - all of whom were fetaured in the Guardian this Saturday http://bit.ly/hhBckd and others: Mario Petrucci, Pauline Prior Pitt, Roger Garfitt, Roz Goddard, Mark Niel (last year's Wenlock Slam finalist) and from Australia, Ross Donlon, winner of the Wenlock Poetry Festival category of this year's Arvon International Poetry Prize.

Our local talent gets a look in too - our very own Paul Evans, Guardian Nature Diary columnist will be giving a workshop and a performance, and local poets will be performing poems from Shropshire.

There'll be fun things to do as well - we're very proud that the Poetry Takeaway, trialled at last year's Edinburgh Festival, is having its first grown up outing in Much Wenlock. http://bit.ly/fF1J8v You'll find it by the Church Green, and speaking of which, be sure to take a look in the church, where you will find three of Sheilagh Jevons' Poetry Sheds.

And also on the Church Green, you'll find our lovely Poetree - a work of art in progress - come and be part of it! All you have to do is to write a line from your favourite poem, or make up a line, or --- well, anything poetic!! Your work will be immortalised (on a luggage lable!) and you'll have helped to make our Poetree 2011!

In addition we have a choir: Polly Bolton and the Larks Community Choir singing poems by Gill McEvoy, a fabulous Festival Cafe with the best food around (breakfast, coffees, light lunches, elegant early suppers!) and lots of fun for children too, with our Poetry Club in the bookshop, children's writing workshop, events from John Hegley (yes, really!) and Angela Topping - and make-and-play time in the library for younger ones who fancy a Regal Rhymes session.

Just when you think there can't possibly be more - we have John Gorman and the Wirral Poets descending on the town - all events free, but watch out - anything can happen!!

There are exhibitions at twenty twenty gallery and the Guild Hall, a marathon 'Knit a Poem' session at Ippikins Yarn Shop, and of course, feel free to visit the place where all this started; Wenlock Books!

Only a few booking days left - and some events are selling out now, so don't leave it another minute! Book now at http://bit.ly/dEIMfA or ask us to call you back if you leave a message on 07969253221 or call in at the bookshop. If you like to live dangerously of course, just turn up at the weekend! See you there!

Anna Dreda.

A week in the bookshop

2011-04-23T08:32:00.003Z

Below is the diary kept by Jo during her work experience week (last October, sorry Jo!) Jo was 15 at the time, and this is a lovely account of her time with us.

The Bookshop – My Experience

Monday

Leaving the house, the cool air greeted me silently, finding its way between the gaps in my scarf. The air was slowly beginning to wake; a gentle breeze rolling the brittle leaves, the sound of car engines rumbling on the road nearby. The grey pavements, looped between high buildings leaning protectively over the narrow streets, led swiftly to the bookshop.

Walking along the street opposite, I spotted Anna, both of us homing in on the small store. A warm smile, a soft welcome. She led me in. I was struck with an immediate rich contentment to see the cosy winding rooms, inviting shelves, low arching beams. The building was old, and this pleased me. I was shown around. The morning was yet quiet, no traffic noise from the street, no voices to be heard except our own. The shop felt like its own universe.

“I’m so sorry, but could you start with the washing up? It doesn’t seem to have been done from the meeting on Saturday.”

I obliged, manoeuvring the cups and plates around in the tiny kitchen area with as much grace as I could muster – I was terrified of dropping one. What a way to start my job placement that would be! Depositing three staling biscuits into the bin, I imagined the meeting. Where had they sat? Perhaps round the circular table on the middle floor. In my mind, Anna, another worker, and two austere gentlemen sat in businesslike conversation, sipping tea, and smiling polite social smiles…

After the washing up, a spot of hovering was to be done. Presented with two mats and a Henry Hoover, I concealed an amused grin. My school friends had a mild fixation with the creature-like red tools; possibly in subconscious reminiscence of Noo-Noo from the Teletubbies. Mats cleaned, the shop exterior was to be dusted, the pavement swept, and calendars arranged. From outside through the window, the shop had a warm orange glow, the inviting look of a well-loved personal library.

“Here you go.” Back inside, I was handed the shop chequebook, and a stack of notes held together with a bull clip. A speedy description, and I was sent off to count the money, write the cheques. I had never done it before. I stared, nonplussed despite the explanation, and flicked back to other cheques to confirm what I had to do. I felt anxious to please, the urge to do everything perfectly was strong inside me. Taking it very slowly, I navigated my way through the task. Piles of shining coins were counted into bags, stacks of crisp notes carefully accounted for. Content I’d done a satisfactory job, I returned to Anna.

“That needs to be popped down to Barclays then.”

I think I gulped. “Okay.” More new things. I’d never gone to a bank on my own, either; the prospect was mildly daunting.

Turning right out onto the street, I saw the bank a few doors down, which I hadn’t noticed earlier that morning. The street was busier now, shoppers and elderly couples out for gentle strolls, dotting the narrow high street. The bank transaction was easy – cheques and money over, chequebook and receipts back. I felt a bubble of pleasure well up inside me, and burst on my lips as a smile. Returning to the shop, the ancient crafted buildings of wood and plaster looked even more beautiful.

I was instructed on the use of the till, and demonstrated how customers should be served. I watched intently, and tried to take it in. However, next I was sent up to the top floor far from customers, to update the invoices, between the folder and computer. This took time, but wasn’t challenging. Every now and then, I’d glance up and appreciate the attic-like room, all exposed beams and sloping walls. I felt at home in a room like this. The silence was calming, only broken by the soft murmur of browsers the floor below.

Once invoices were complete, I was kept fiercely busy. The only pauses were when Anna was busy with a customer, on the phone, or ordering books, and I’d completed a task. I enjoyed the busyness, I felt useful. There were several boxes to be unpacked, customers notified of orders arriving. Suddenly, it was lunchtime. I immediately felt starving hungry, and went to find food.

Conscious of time slipping away, I hurried back from my lunch hour. After making tea and documenting my morning, there were small odd jobs and errands to run. I was beginning, slowly, to feel a part of the shop. I returned from an errand down the street, to find Anna’s daughter visiting holding a plump baby, with watery, saucer-blue eyes, overlarge for his face. He had that flawless, soft, pinkish skin, that only babies are blessed with.

Though there seemed to be more customers in the early afternoon, I felt less busy than in the morning. In fact, I cannot clearly recall how the hours were so speedily used up. I met Claire, a bookshop assistant, and Sam; an assistant only three years my elder. He’d done work experience at the shop, himself. This feeling of continuity pleased me. Once I understood the technical language, the task I was shown of booking in items was easily performed.

Soon it was approaching 5pm, and Anna departed. The light had faded to a washed out dusk, grey darkness starting to take over without me noticing. I realised at some point someone must’ve put more lights on, for the shop was bright and glowing. No more customers appeared, and I quizzed Sam curiously about the nearby sixth form. I wondered what it’d be like living here, in the town forever caught in confliction between the old and new.

Half past five crept upon us, and, gathering my scarf and bag, I left the shop contentedly in the dwindling light.

Tuesday

This morning, it was bitterly cold – leaving the bungalow, and stepping quickly towards the bookshop was an effort of will. I could see rays of morning sunlight hitting the very tops of the browning trees, but it hadn’t condescended to shine upon the streets yet. Relief and warmth flooded through me in equal amounts as I entered the shop, my fingers stung from the welcomed rise in temperature.

However, the relief was short lived, as my first job was to again sweep the shop exterior, and lay out the calendars/cards. I performed the task as succinctly as I could, and dashed back inside to open boxes. This completed, and my previous afternoon recorded on the computer, I returned down the rickety flights of stairs to find Anna deep in discussion with a man from Harper Collins.

Adam was tall and slight, middle aged, with narrow glasses and spiked hair. He carried an air of sleek professionalism, hand in hand with a friendly open nature. He was eager to please, eager to mention the merits of each title. Anna flicked through the books displayed on his laptop, swiftly judging each, and either rewarding it benevolently with a place on her shelves, or sending it down to the hells of the unwanted.

“No, I don’t think so,” she said, clicking past a novel. I felt an odd lurch inside me, almost regret. I would’ve ordered that book.

Anna was called out for a sick young relative, and Molly took over. Very few customers appeared, and I spent the remaining time dusting and organising shelves, acquainting myself with the stock. Several books caught my eye, and I wondered whether anyone would notice if I stopped for half an hour, and quietly read one… But I refrained. A creased spine or bent page, would cause me too much guilt.

Returning to the book shop in the afternoon, more stacks of boxes had arrived. I sat down and worked through them, making small talk with Molly on the till. Books, books, and more books needed small sticky note labels…. Eventually, they were ready to be shelved.

It started to rain, as I came back from the Spar bearing bourbon creams. Settling into some creative writing, the downpour grew heavier and heavier. The skylight looked fragile beneath the hurling grey torrent, as if any moment the glass would crumble, and the heavens would pour in. The clatter of raindrops was loud in the attic room. Strange, how simultaneously the shop seemed to be in meditative cocooning silence, sheltered from the outside world, caught in peaceful limbo.

“What did Anna say about the poetry group, then?” Sam asked, tentatively moving up the stairs, perhaps cautious not to intrude upon my isolation.

Anna’s continued absence, meant Sam and I were to run the children’s poetry club. Sure enough, half an hour later, I heard the bubbling exclamations of primary school children, gathering at the round table. I felt my energy levels rise - they were infectious.

A round of poems commenced; sometimes painstaking, sometimes funny, sometimes strangely poignant when wise words were uttered by such young lips. Looking at each kid in turn, I visualised them as adults. I wondered where their lives would lead.

Anna returned, took over from Sam. At request, I sang two songs with my guitar. The children were an excitable bunch, but kept attention rather better than I expected. More poems, and joyful giggling followed.

As they left, I glanced at my watch. 5:40pm. The elusive nature of time once again surprised me. Gathering my things, I said goodbye, and left.

Walking down the high-street (dry once again, luckily), I realised I was in a weirdly buoyant mood. I never usually liked working with younger children, found myself impatient and irritable… but today, had I really enjoyed it? Very odd.

Wednesday

I hadn’t thought it possible for October, but Wednesday was even colder than the previous day. The skies were wide and blue, the sun deceptively bright, my body shivering. My nose felt alternately numb and sharply painful, as if it was going to fall off at any moment, if given the chance.

Routine morning jobs of sweeping/arranging/washing up were done. Next, out came the Henry again – Gordon had been putting up new shelves, and there was a “tremendous mess”, as Sally exclaimed. I watched the suction pipe steadily, inexorably, pull every particle of dust towards it to be consumed by its gaping mouth. It looked as if it were some giant creature in slow motion, swallowing its prey into the merciless black hole of its stomach.

Following this, the new shelves had to be arranged with cards. There was much umming and aahing, and deciding on their placement for the best aesthetic value: it took up most of the remainder of the morning.

Much of the early afternoon was spent re-alphabetising the shelves of the teen fiction, and poetry sections. Quietly, I worked my way through. I attempted to arrange them pleasingly to the eye, and this seemed to go successfully.

Scanning needed doing, and I was prevailed upon to serve the occasional customer. This, I found, was my least favourite part of the job.

“Anna, which button do I pressed for cards?” I whispered frantically, only too conscious of the judgmental thoughts that would now be writing themselves in the customers brain. I saw an impatient look cross the woman’s eyes. Damn it! Appearing incompetent was something I couldn’t stand – the apprehension for publicly messing up was hot and potent inside me.

Quick as possibly, I scuttled to the back of the shop again, to continue with less public jobs.

Shortly after, Sam and I were sent upstairs to organise the book returns. These volumes were the ultimate unwanted – having been on the shelf so long, they were no longer deemed worthy to take up the precious space. It made me imagine what sort of dismal characters these books would make, if they were people… A crowd of plain-faced, halting eccentrics wandered around dazedly in my mind.

Packing up these books in boxes, we hauled them down the narrow flights of stairs to be taped up, and sent off. As half past 5 rounded the bend towards me, I took my leave. I’d got used to the longer day now, and the extra 2 hours from the length of school days had ceased to feel strange. Strolling down Sheinton Street, the evening sun shone yellow and white in my eyes.

Thursday

Today, I was back at home, so was driven in at 9 o’clock. As I arrived out of the cold, it felt natural, right. I was starting to get used to the routine, felt part of the shops mechanics.

Sweeping, stacking, hovering, dusting. I brought the ground floor back up to its spotless norm. More new shelves had been put up, and they were to be arrayed with attractive cards. The majority of the morning passed slowly.

The change came, when a man burst through the door bearing armfuls of boxes. Suddenly, we couldn’t move for teetering piles of expectant cardboard packages. Each individual mug I removed and placed in the window display, weaving apologetically between ambling browsers, that the warmth had brought in from the street.

At a convenient moment, I disappeared for my lunch break. A short walk to the windmill hill with my father and his office slowed down my internal clock once again, and by the time I returned I was ready for anything.

The rest of the boxes were eventually all unpacked, and I occupied myself with labelling the new books, shelving them, and serving some customers.

Wait. Serving customers…? Finally, finally, I had grasped how the till worked, and could manage the desk almost with confidence. I found myself enjoying making small talk with the people making purchases, and waving them cheerily out the door. Progress!

Working through routine jobs, the afternoon passed mostly in a blur. Memories of it, though only a few hours ago, have succeeding in fading, leaving one collective impression in my mind. Warmth; the smell of coffee and new paper; the murmur of Sally’s classical music, and musing customers; soft orange light; the creak of wooden stairs; a cold rush of air when the front door was swung open; the feel of a hot mug in my hands.

Today when I left, I didn’t want to go.

Friday

Turning up promptly in the morning, I waited on the street for a minute or so, until Anna noticed it was 9am, and opened the door. Luckily, she didn’t take long, and I stepped in from the cold quickly. Domestic cleaning tasks were first on the agenda, and I spent the first half of the morning sweeping, hoovering, washing up, and dusting the stairs. I quickly warmed up. There’s something pleasing about repetitive physical jobs.

Once the cleaning was done, there were displays to be moved and rearranged, shelves to reorganise. I enjoyed this, though got a little frustrated when a shelf refused to look right. After a ponder with Anna, we finally came up with a more agreeable layout. With the half an hour left, I started sorting out the children’s books, removing the unwanted that had been there for months. When lunchtime arrived I was surprised – time had been fickle once again…

After an excellent pie and a walk, I finished sorting out the children’s books. I stood back, took a look, and felt satisfied with my work. It really is the simple pleasures in life, don’t you think?

Pots of tea were made, customers were served, and Sam and I were instructed to move certain structures such as card stands upstairs, to make room for the evening’s “event”. Some more stock arrived and I unpacked it, wondering what to do about the fact I couldn’t find an invoice, when the box irritatingly stated “invoice enclosed”. I nervously checked through the bundle of brown packing paper that I’d chucked in the bin, hoping it hadn’t got scrunched up in there, but it thankfully wasn’t. However, we managed to scan and book the volumes in on the computer anyway.

I tilled a customer’s books, and he handed me his card. I stared at it with dread. Oh dear… I’d never had to use the card machine yet. Once we’d successfully put the card into the machine, I stared at the machine screen blankly instead. What on earth had Anna told me to do with these, all the way back on Monday? I panicked slightly. Thank god Anna happened to be on hand, to save me. Soon everything was flowing again, and I retreated once again to the safety of unpacking boxes…

Small pottering jobs were done during the next hour or so, a quick dash down to the Spar supplied us with more bottled water. Walking back up to the shop, I felt oddly traditional. The bottles may have been plastic, but striding up the road with a large container of water swinging in each hand, I felt timeless. Some things never change!

Friday drew to a close quietly and gently. I updated my writing, drank a steaming cup of tea. I couldn’t believe the week was over. I was caught in the odd juxtaposition of feeling like the days had gone by in a flash, but thinking back to the first Monday morning, it seemed an age ago. I’d grown to like very much the people I worked with, and the tall, undulating building we belonged in. With a sense of regret, I departed for a final time.

Did I say final? Well, if I choose to go to the William Brookes Sixth Form next year, Anna might find herself receiving a hopeful phone call, asking eagerly for a job…

ORANGE LONGLIST 2011

2011-03-16T16:21:00.002Z

The longlist:

Lyrics Alley Leila Aboulela (Weidenfeld & Nicolson)

Jamrach's Menagerie Carol Birch (Canongate)

Room Emma Donoghue (Picador)

The Pleasure Seekers Tishani Doshi (Bloomsbury)

Whatever You Love Louise Doughty (Faber)

A Visit from the Goon Squad Jennifer Egan (Corsair)

The Memory of Love Aminatta Forna (Bloomsbury)

The London Train Tessa Hadley (Jonathan Cape)

Grace Williams Says it Loud Emma Henderson (Sceptre)

The Seas Samantha Hunt (Corsair)

The Birth of Love Joanna Kavenna (Faber)

Great House Nicole Krauss (Viking)

The Road to Wanting Wendy Law-Yone (Chatto)

The Tiger's Wife Téa Obreht (Weidenfeld)

The Invisible Bridge Julie Orringer (Viking)

Repeat it Today with Tears Anne Peile (Serpent's Tail)

Swamplandia! Karen Russell (Chatto)

The Secret Lives of Baba Segi's Wives Lola Shoneyin (Serpent's Tail)

The Swimmer Roma Tearne (HarperPress)

Annabel Kathleen Winter (Jonathan Cape)

CALLING ALL READING GROUPS

2011-03-16T14:21:00.005Z

I would like to invite any reading groups in Shropshire, or surrounds, to join an email mailing list that I will host via the bookshop so that reading groups can be informed of events taking place at Wenlock Books and around the county.

The list will never be passed on to third parties, and will only be used for the exchange of material of interest to reading groups. It would work if one person were designated from each group, but it could work equally well with any members being on the list.

I think there are so many of us in reading groups, and reading groups come in all shapes, sizes and affiliations, that it would be such fun if we occasionally got together too. To this end, to start the ball rolling, I would like to invite any reading groups to join us at Wenlock Pottery on Friday May 20th for an evening with Isabel Losada, author of The Battersea Park Road to Enlightenment. On this occasion, we will be celebrating the latest Losada book - The Battersea Park Road to Paradise - join us for complimentary wine and delicious nibbles from our local Indian restaurant - and to be entertained by Isabel's unique take on what to do when your life feels 'stuck'!

This will be a really good night out, with special rates for reading groups! Contact Anna to find out more!

CAMBO

2011-03-11T15:41:00.003Z

I have recently joined up to CAMBO (think Real Ale for Books!!) http://www.campaignforrealbooks.org

The Campaign For Real Books was established last November to preserve and promote real books and the independent bookshops that sell them. Well over 100,000 British jobs depend on printed books and bookshops are the most visible aspect of this industry. CAMBO wants to keep all of these jobs alive by making sure that paper books are never seen as second-rate to screens. They are not fighting progress – they are fighting the marketing strategy of multi-national electronics companies, and that is a fight we can win. Will you join in? Membership is £15 per annum, but as well as knowing that you are fighting to preserve the printed book (and bookshops) you will receive a card you can use to get 10% discount from participating booksellers, and here in Shropshire both Burway Books in Church Stretton and I (Wenlock Books) are signed up members so you will get your 10% off every time you shop with either one of us!

Today it's the libraries, and if we all do nothing it will be bookshops tomorrow. Together we can make a difference. Hurrah for the fighting spirit!

The Help

2011-03-09T11:35:00.002Z

The Help by Kathryn Stockett, published by Penguin, £12.99

Kathryn Stockett’s debut novel is brave, exciting and very, very good. After a hectic time with the Poetry Festival, I needed one of my quiet Sunday’s reading, and picked this off the bookshelves on the strength of the first paragraph: I wasn’t disappointed. Set in the first half of the sixties in the racial powder keg of Jackson, Mississippi, this is a story told in three voices: two black maids, and the white woman who decides to try to tell their story. Right there Kathryn Stockett faces up to all kinds of difficulties. Each of the main characters gets to tell the story from their own viewpoint, and while I can’t fault the different viewpoints explored, what doesn’t quite come off for me is the actual differentiation of those voices. In my opinion, the best writer of voice is Barbara Kingsolver – her five-voiced Poisonwood Bible never has me turning back to the beginning of a chapter to check who was talking as each voice is so perfectly pitched as to be always recognisable. In The Help though, the two maids, Aibelline and Minnie, sound just a bit too similar, and even Skeeter, the white woman writer, isn’t always distinguishable from the other two. Having said that though, it may be that my English sensibilities are not quite finely tuned enough to catch the nuances of black and white southern dialect, and I must also admit to being really surprised to find out that Stockett is herself a white woman writer: the only other time I have had that kind of shock is when I was reading the first of the Precious Ramotswe novels and having no idea that Alexander McCall Smith was a man! In other words, I’m quite prepared to give Stockett the benefit of the doubt, and say that the difficulty might lie with my hearing rather than her enunciation.

The second difficulty Stockett faces is the question of whether or not it is acceptable for a white woman to yet again be telling a black woman’s story. This dilemma is addressed within the novel, and also in Stockett’s notes at the end of the book where she wonders whether she “was crossing a terrible line, writing in the voice of a black person.” She goes on to say that she thought she had said both too much and too little, and her greatest fear was that she would fail to describe a situation that had been so “grossly stereotyped in American history and literature.” I’m more than glad that she took these risks, as what we get is a reworking of the Gone with the Wind type of Mammy-figure, with the maids’ lives being fully realised rather than caricatures. The complex and intricate relationships between black and white women whose lives are intimately entwined but utterly imbalanced in terms of power, are drawn in ways that force us to think again.

The book is very culturally specific, with references to Kennedy’s assassination; Martin Luther King’s world changing march on Washington and the death of Medgar Evers (who lived in Jackson and was a prominent member of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People). The coming of flower-power and peaceniks, the war in Vietnam, even fashion and food, are thrown carefully into this melting pot to recreate the time and the place with vibrant and telling authenticity.

Stockett is obviously drawing on her own family background – she was born and raised in Jackson, Mississippi, looked after by a black maid, and went on to live in New York as a magazine writer. This book isn’t The Color Purple (Alice Walker), nor is it Their Eyes Were Watching God (Zora Neale Hurston) but it is in the same family and not-too-distantly related. She has told a great story – I hope there will be more.

Anna Dreda

Wenlock Books

Isabel Losada and the Battersea Park Road to Paradise

2011-03-07T11:21:00.006Z

The Battersea Park Road to Paradise at Wenlock Pottery, Friday May 20^th, 7.30pm

Isabel Losada has worked as an actress, singer, dancer, researcher, TV producer, broadcaster, public speaker, comedian and author.

Her latest book is about getting stuck on the road to enlightenment. In The Battersea Park Road to Enlightenment, she set out with a modest aim: ‘to be absurdly happy every day’. But the road has been tough and the eternal optimist, Isabel, needs to get herself out of a rather deep hole. It's a real life overhaul with humour and inspiration for you if you are ‘stuck’. It's honest, tougher than 'enlightenment' but light and funny, too. Never cynical, always clear-sighted, Isabel has a delightful ability to laugh at herself and will have you laughing too.

Wenlock Books is hosting this event at Wenlock Pottery. Seating will be cabaret-style, with a complimentary bottle of wine and a delicious array of Indian starters on each table. There will be a wine bar.

Tickets are £10 with a 10% discount for reading group bookings of five or more. As this is a catered event, there will be no tickets on the door. Bring your friends, your sister, your Mum – even your boy-friend or husband – for a laugh out loud night out!

Bookings to Anna on 01952 727877, info@wenlockbooks.co.uk,

or on twitter @wenlockbooks

The Light Years

2011-03-06T21:51:00.001Z

The Light Years by Elizabeth Jane Howard published by Pan Macmillan, £7.99

This novel, the first of a quartet known as The Cazalet Books, was recommended to me by Glenda, a member of the Farley Reading Group – one of the many thriving local reading groups in the area. Glenda had so enjoyed this book that she had immediately gone on to read the rest of the series. When she told me that it was set just before and during WWII, I knew that it would provide good background material for our year of reading around the Second World War, and I promptly ordered The Light Years for myself.

I was delighted! Howard’s writing is gorgeous; beautifully observed, carefully crafted, and full of insight. Her subject matter is the Cazalet dynasty: ‘The Brig’ and ‘The Duchy’ are the parents and grand-parents of this ever-increasing family, and live at Home Place, a beautiful old manor house in gorgeous grounds, complete with stable-boy, gardeners, cooks, maids, nannies and so on. The Duchy is a firm believer in fresh air and regular baths – tepid or cold being her preferred temperature and she meets each morning with Mrs. Cripps to discuss the day’s menus for family and staff. There are four younger Cazalets; Hugh, Edward and Rupert, all of whom are married with several children, and unmarried Rachel who doesn’t know that she is in love with her best friend. Hugh and Edward live in London, Lansdowne Place and Lancaster Gate, but all spend their annual holidays at Home Place and the story begins with the onset of the long summer holiday, with wives and children settling in for the duration, husbands going back and forth at weekends.

The cast of characters is huge and my only slight criticism of the book is that there are so many people in it that I did have to keep referring to the character list, thoughtfully presented at the front of the book. However, we do gradually get to know them all well, and now that I have just finished book two ‘Marking Time’, I think I’ve got them all correctly assigned to the right families! We get to know many of the characters intimately, having access to their thoughts, hopes and fears.

Howard is particularly good at recreating the long hot days of summer and the sense of endless time that school- and governess-free days brings the children. Their capacity for mischief, adventure, friendship and rivalries is beautifully drawn; their small, but tremendously important, anxieties are tenderly and affectionately portrayed, also the difficult transitions from child to adult (this is an era without the in-between stage of teenager!)

Relationships between the husbands and wives, brothers and sisters-in-law are also carefully and sometimes wryly observed. Rupert has remarried following the death of his first wife in child-birth: Zoe is young, pretty and selfish, woefully inadequate as a new mother for his children and a misfit in the family until the Duchy takes her under her wing. Sybil has been married for a dozen years or more to Hugh, and their loving relationship is gently teased by Howard, based as it is on a complex modus of mutual self-sacrifice whereby each of them negates their own desires in order to please the other – usually with quite the opposite result. Villy, a glamorous dancer before her marriage to Edward, is quite unaware of his regular liaisons with other women, and in particular the fact that he has a mistress of many years.

Throughout this first book, the threat of war hangs in the air like an impending thunderstorm, and as readers we are well aware that their fears will all be realised, and that the comfortable, privileged world they have inhabited so thoughtlessly until now will soon be gone for ever.

Anna Dreda
Wenlock Books

Howard's End is on the Landing

2011-03-06T21:37:00.000Z

Howards End is on the Landing by Susan Hill, Profile Books, £8.99

Subtitled “A Year of Reading from Home”, this is a celebration of the joys of a reading life that found pretty short shrift with the serious reviewers of the major broad-sheets and journals, but that has been loved by (mainly) women of a certain age, which club I realise I now belong to!

The premise of the book is that Susan will feed her reading habit without buying any new books for a period of one year. (As a bookseller this does of course strike fear and terror into my heart, but more on that later!) Susan will pick 40 books from her many bookcases, made up of books she has bought but never read (her chapter on un-read books is brilliant!) or that she is confident will bear re-reading. She will also, during that year, cut down on all but the most essential internet use, in order to be able to both maximise her reading time, and to allow her imagination to stretch itself again: she believes that prolonged and regular use of the internet stultifies the mind. (Watch out tweeters and facebookers!)

Although the book does end – literally the very last page! – with a list of 40 books, it is the choosing of the books, and the slow meandering route to them, that is of far more interest than the list itself. (Having said that, it’s a fine list and there are several on there I would like to read.) Susan Hill was born in Scarborough in 1948 (just seven years older than me) and much of her reading mirrors mine: reading about her reading reminded me of mine, and I felt I was in the company of an old friend – or several old friends: a friend whose reading taste and history makes up for the fact that this is someone I don’t know; our shared reading past would surely commend us to each other? And the old friends of the books themselves – for like me, reading is of huge importance to Susan, and like me, Susan remembers certain parts of her life according to what she was reading at the time.

Where there are differences they are big ones; Susan was educated at a Grammar School and read English at Kings College, mixing with writers like Iris Murdoch, Charles Causley and Roald Dahl. I went to the (new) comprehensive, and (eventually, as a mature student) to Wolverhampton University – but we both saw, and see, reading as the greatest form of self education, a primary life activity, and one of the enduring joys of our lives. And that’s what I really love about this book: it is a celebration of reading; from Beano annuals, and how to look after your pet, to PD James, to Proust, to Middlemarch – and so much more else in between. She talks about how characters from books can become people that you know (we found this especially true when reading The Portrait of a Lady by Henry James in our reading group!) and how the measure of a really great book is that you can find something new in it every time. She also talks about the e-book and how for her (and people of a certain age?) it will never replace the real book, where reading is so much more than just the words on the page, it’s also the design of the cover, the weight of the pages, the size and design of the font, the feel, the smell …

And that’s why I don’t mind too much that Susan Hill decides to spend a year not buying any new books. This book is a hymn to reading – and I can guarantee that when you’ve finished reading it the first thing you’ll do is to make a list of other books you want to read! As a person who makes a living from books – this is good news!

Anna Dreda

Wenlock Books

The Morville Year

2011-03-06T20:49:00.001Z

The Morville Year by Katherine Swift, published by Bloomsbury, £18.99

On Friday March 4^th, Katherine Swift’s second Morville book was launched at Morville Hall, courtesy of Chris and Sara Douglas. The evening was a wonderful celebration of Katherine’s writing, with many of her Dower House Garden friends present, along with a few bookshop friends and customers, and the inspirational garden writer Mirabel Osler, author of A Gentle Plea for Chaos.

My shop window is now awash with yellow flowers and The Yellow Book on one side, and beautiful pale pink tulips and Katherine’s book on the other – with a tiny scattering of the spring edition of Slightly Foxed thrown in. With my pots of spring bulbs by the door and a lovely day of sunshine and blue skies, it really does feel as though winter is behind us!

I wasn’t going to read The Morville Year this weekend, much as I wanted to. I had a big bundle of poems to read for the Wenlock Poetry Festival competition, and another book that I was two thirds of the way through. Nevertheless, I took The Morville Year to bed with me, and decided before I turned out my light to just read the introduction, to see where Katherine might be taking us with this new book. Of course, the introduction whetted my appetite, and when I realised that the book started with the month of March, the urge to read about it was too great and I plunged in. I read until my eyes wouldn’t stay open, and then woke up early this Sunday morning and carried on. I read through March, decided to go for the whole of Spring, then Summer beckoned irresistibly, and by the end of summer I knew that I wouldn’t be satisfied until I had seen the year out. And that was my day!

I’m not a gardener. While lucky enough to have a beautiful garden that includes woodland, a brook, an ancient church just over one boundary and a motte and bailey over the other, it’s my partner Hilary who does the work, with occasional help from jobbing gardeners in the village. My self-appointed task is to admire, exclaim and appreciate – and I do that really well. For me, a garden is for reading in, and our garden room allows me to do that through all but the coldest of the winter months. The Morville Year is a book about gardens, and yet, as you will know if you are among the thousands who have already read and loved the Morville Hours, in Katherine’s hands, gardens are about everything, and so this book speaks to all of us, gardeners or not.

The Morville Year is an inspiring book, beautifully written, full of knowledge and wisdom that is written with the lightest of touches and with real grace. Katherine ranges from Bob Dylan to Gertrude Jekyll; from picking blackberries to star-gazing; from trundling around the countryside on her motor-bike to catching the stopping train (28 stations) to Cornwall. She gives us the recipes to the delicious scones she serves at her open garden afternoons, and shares the secrets of quince paste and cassis. The origins of decking our halls with boughs of holly are explored along with the druidic and celtic rituals that still mark the turning of the seasons. What comes across so clearly is her passion for her garden, for the little bit of earth from which she has created this exquisite, ever-changing, historically and spiritually rooted series of gardens that is the Dower House garden. Katherine mentions that it sometimes takes an artist to enable us to see what is in front of us in real life. For me, Katherine is that artist, who paints with words, and who so faithfully and remarkably pays attention to the smallest miracle and then writes about it for us, so that we can see, and share, and wonder, too.

We are so lucky to be in this lovely little bit of Shropshire that Katherine writes about so eloquently - the references to the wall flowers on John James garden wall in Bridgnorth; her visits to Avril’s flower shop that used to be in the High Street in Much Wenlock; her descriptions of the annual Morville Flower Festival – all so familiar to us, and now shared and enjoyed across the country, and probably around the world.

Anna Dreda

Wenlock Books

21st Anniversary of the founding of Wenlock Books

2008-12-23T14:37:00.009Z

We celebrated the bookshop's 21st birthday party with a champagne reception in the Guild Hall. Founder Perce Muscutt was guest of honour - and he regaled us with many happy remininscences of "the old days".

How Fiction Works

2008-12-23T14:28:00.003Z

The second series of seminars on "how fiction works" run by Betty James finished just recently. The seminars were a great success and hugely enjoyed by all who attended. We hope Betty will run a new series next year.

Ann Turnbull - repeat visit

2008-12-23T13:57:00.009Z

By popular request, children's author Ann Turnbull was invited back to the Children's Reading Group recently to look again at Deep Water.

Deep Water is a slim but powerful story about two boys who play truant from school. They decide to have an adventure but it all goes horribly wrong, and one of the boys has to make a decision that could have disastrous consequences.

It's a moral dilemma, and handled brilliantly, and the children in the reading group loved reading it for the second or even (in some cases) the third time. Lots of discussion was sparked (Ann hardly got a word in!) and it was a very lively and intersting meeting. To add to the fun, the chldren were invited to write their own endings to the story - and they did that very, very well: watch out next year's children's writing competiion!

The White Tiger and Portillo's Socks

2008-10-21T14:06:00.003Z

The judges of this year’s Booker prize said from the outset they would reward good story telling. “We were looking for a book that would knock our socks off,” said Chairman of the judges, Michael Portillo. Aravind Adiga’s extraordinary first novel, ‘The White Tiger’, it would appear, did just that.

Many have described this as a surprising win. Certainly it will have surprised the six amateur arbiters of literary merit that met in Homer on 9 October to review the shortlist – only days before the real judges would convene for their final deliberations. ‘The White Tiger’ garnered only one vote among us – with most going to Amitav Ghosh’s ‘Sea of Poppies’.

But, while there may have been surprise, there will have been little disappointment. Of the six books we read, four – the tiger among them - were deemed to deliver in spades on the judges’ ‘damn good read’ criteria. Perhaps Poppies won out because, as its supporter among us pointed out, "it gives a very thorough description of the pleasures of opium”. It seems those pleasures are many and that we were all keen to find out about them. Hmmm…

I had better confess immediately that our performance as ‘alternative judges’ was less than robust. We gave ourselves a very relaxed time of it, reading only one of the short listed novels each and then providing our co-readers with a review that, while it was as honest as we could make it, could hardly fail to be partisan. If we’re honest, we were probably influenced as much by the passion of each book’s supporter than by the books themselves.

So, what did we have to say about the shortlist?
The ones we loved….

‘The Secret Scripture’, Sebastian Barry: A compassionate study of one woman’s life through her own reminiscences and those of her psychiatrist. Our reader loved its fine lyrical writing, which complemented a sensitive investigation of the accuracy, power and, ultimately, truth, of memory.

‘The Sea of Poppies’, Amitav Ghosh: An absolute page turner with lashings of sex, drugs – and swash buckling adventure standing in for rock n roll. Good Lord, does that sound like a Booker winner? No, thought not. Wishful thinking on our part then. We wanted it to win but thought it wouldn’t - disadvantaged by being only the first part in a trilogy.

‘The Clothes on Their Backs’, Linda Grant: A book about a woman’s relationship with clothes…? You’d imagine a limited audience for this one. But you’d be wrong. Grant’s obsession with shirts and skirts disguises deeper concerns. Clothes, they say, ‘maketh the man’ but, for Grant, they are little more than ciphers for the personalities we adopt for survival. A powerful examination of alternative responses to suffering and loss.

‘The White Tiger’, Aravind Adega: A polemic for 21st century India; angry, honest and funny with a compelling anti-hero who wins our favour despite being a murderous villain.

The ones we hated…

‘The Northern Clemency’, Philip Hensher: The fly cover compares this to the great Russian novels of Dostoyevsky. We were perplexed. “This book is to literature what blancmange is to fine dining,” complained our reader. “Bland to taste and with no nutritional value whatsoever.”

‘Fraction of the Whole’, Steve Toltz: Too clever by half, we thought. This examination of that perennial favourite for introverted young male authors (yawn) - the father/son relationship - left our reader so cold she couldn’t even bear to finish it. Tsk, tsk!

So, did Booker 2008 deliver on its ‘rollicking good read’ promise? Certainly the four we favoured all had great narrative energy. None were the ‘difficult but rewarding’ reads that we normally associate with Booker winners (take your medicine, its good for you). But, blessedly, they each delivered something more. It seemed to me; as I listened to our readers describe them, that they shared and were set apart by their ability to throw fresh light on the human condition, and to describe with compassion the impact of history - both personal and global - on the human heart, mind and spirit.

‘The White Tiger’ surprised us, but pleasantly so I think. And it seemed to surprise most of the critics, too – when will they learn not to underestimate the wisdom of youth? But the thing that surprised me most was that a panel of judges led by Mr Portillo, of all people, would hand the Booker accolade to such a brazenly anti-capitalist book. So, (and here come four words I never expected to use in the same sentence) well done Mr Portillo. I even feel inclined to buy you a new pair of socks!

Annie Garthwaite

Helen Wendy Cooper - The Shapeland Books

2008-10-18T10:14:00.014Z

Helen Wendy Cooper, author of the popular children's series Shapeland, was in the bookshop with Silly Samuel Square on Saturday morning.

The Booker Supper

2008-10-10T13:15:00.008Z

Deaf Africa Fund (DAF) Charity Fund Raising Supper

2008-10-10T12:27:00.014Z

Heartfelt thanks to everyone who helped make our charity fund-raising supper at the Bilash restaurant so successful. Thanks to the generosity and hard work of Ram, Tor's generous gift, and everyone who bought tickets or came on the night, we have made £1000 for the Deaf Africa Fund. An amazing achievement and great fun!

Miss Woodford, the charity's founder, returns to Africa on 20/10/08. We wish her a safe journey and a productive trip; we will keep you updated as to how the money has been used.

Deaf Africa works to support deaf children in the east and horn of Africa by providing training, schools, and opportunities for deaf young people to gain the skills they need to lead active and productive lives. If you would like to help in any way, please contact the bookshop and we will forward your details to the charity.

You can also by charity Christmas cards published by NB Cards to support the work of DAF; visit http://www.nbcardsltd.co.uk/xmas.htm or call in at the shop.

Gillian Carke - National Poet of Wales

2008-10-07T13:47:00.004Z

The evening with Gillian Clarke was the quiet delight of a lifetime. Her uncertainty about her confidence to interest and entertain a 100-strong audience proved unfounded. Despite my familiarity with much of her work, I found myself entranced immediately by her easy company and overt enthusiasm for all aspects of poetry.
My active interest in Gillian's work has spanned some 25 years since I first encountered "Letter from a far country" when I was an environmental studies student in North Wales in the late 80s. It was thus a rare and very welcome chance to witness the poet speaking candidly and poignantly about her work and her life in Wales and in the wider world (inc. the Soviet Union)!
Amongst the many memorable glimpses of her family and her upbringing which she described, being a witness at a motorcycle accident and her portrayal of her Auntie Phyllis stand out most prominently for me. It was, of course, a distinct pleasure, also to hear as yet unpublished material as well as some heart-warming (and always slightly uncomfortable) favourites.
Gillian was, I believe, truly overawed not only by the turnout but also by the longevity her work has enjoyed.
It was my final pleasure of the evening that she signed for me her latest prose work "At the source" and dedicated and signed a copy of "Letter from a far country" for my Milanese student of English who (like us, in anticipation of "A recipe for water") doesn't know what wonderful poetry is coming her way.

Andy Strang
5.10.08

Jackie Kay at the Guild Hall

2008-09-25T11:37:00.007Z

“There’s this poet reading at the Guildhall, Friday night...” So you know what that will be like. Lots of obscure references and foreign words, some introvert mumbling into the night because they’ve got no home to go to.
Wrong. Jackie Kay is not like that. She’s lively, outgoing, endlessly enthusiastic about writing, reading and meeting people. I first encountered her ten years ago, and everyone I know who’s met her since, on courses, at workshops, at readings, has responded in the same way to her energy and warmth.
She writes rhyming poems for kids, and there’s a comic epic about Ma Broon and colonic irrigation, which she read in a rich Glasgow accent. She paused in the middle of reading one story, at the line “I’m not interested in spreading a banana on another man’s toast” to say – “Oops, that come out sounding worse than I intended.” And from a writing point of view, she’s been lucky with her background – born black, of African parents, adopted by white Scottish communists, with a father passionate about Bessie Smith. It’s material to die for.
But she makes the most of it. The poem that made her famous was The Adoption Papers, a wise, witty exploration through three voices of what adoption means to three of the people involved. One of the highlights of Friday’s reading for me was Pride, a long poem in which she’s on a train, and a fellow passenger stares at her, sure that she’s of Ibo descent. She is, and went to Nigeria to trace her birth father, to whom she was a guilty embarrassment. He wanted nothing to do with her.
So it’s not all laughs. There are searing love poems, like Spare Room, where a lover senses the increasing distance between her and her partner. There were audible gasps in the audience, as the full brutality of intimate betrayal sank in. And then there’s The Lamplighter, a full length radio play for four voices about the slave trade. This is her most recent publication – as she signed my copy she made me kiss the book, because this was absolutely the first one to be sold.
If you heard it on Radio 3 you’ll know what I’m talking about. The plan was for Jackie Kay to read from it at this reading, but that would have made a less varied and entertaining evening, and the one extract she did perform clearly cost her a lot. But you haven’t missed out; for less than ten pounds you get a copy of the script, and a CD of the broadcast, so my detached, impersonal recommendation is to grab it while stocks last.
All through the evening Jackie Kay would throw out odd jokes, reminiscences, friendly comments about audience reaction. At one point she paused reflectively, musing “Who knows, we can ponder these things…” But the aside that seemed to linger was her enthusiasm about the Guildhall, and the audience. Looking around she said “Hey, we could have a poetry lock-in.” It was a great joke, but after she’d stopped laughing Anna seemed to be thinking, plotting maybe. Watch this space…

Paul Francis 21.9.08

Rose Tremain Orange Prize Dinner

2008-09-11T15:32:00.002Z

Winning this year’s Orange Prize for her novel ‘The Road Home’ has brought Rose Tremain a level of critical acclaim and public attention that many of her loyal readers consider long over due. On Friday 29 August a mixed bag of Tremain aficionados and new readers met at the home of Marilyn and Patrick Pietroni to discuss the merits and the appeal of her account of the immigrant experience in Britain. The discussion, like the excellent supper provided by our hosts, was full flavoured, nourishing fare that worked as well to pique the appetite as to satisfy it.

Few punches were pulled as people spoke with frankness and in equal measure about both the novel’s universal appeal and the magnitude of its failings. The former, I believe it’s true to say, focused chiefly upon the subject matter, the latter the writerly success with which Tremain explored it.

Tremain has chosen a subject which can hardly fail to compel – the experience of the outsider in search of a new future. Her hero Lev, of undetermined Eastern European origin, is presented as a kind of universal every man, whose odyssey reveals the weaknesses and hypocrisies of a society where the fear of difference frequently reveals itself as active hostility or – worse still, perhaps – passive neglect.

But there were concerns among the group as to how honest an account of migrant life Tremain actually offers. While many of the stock images of the migrant experience are there – accidental arrests, misunderstandings of language and intent, impoverished working environments, exploitation and patronisation – many felt that the tale lacked the gritty realism needed to make it credible. After all, though Lev endures his share of hardships, he triumphs in the end. And he is aided along the way by a series of beneficent supporters who’s tendency to pop up exactly when they’re most needed stretched the credulity of at least this cynical reader. All in all, one can’t help but be left with the feeling that the migrant experience isn’t all that bad, actually, as Lev makes the transformation from displaced worker to capitalist entrepreneur with surprising ease. His experience is, in the long run, a tacit reinforcement of ‘on yer bike’ cultural values that Normal Tebbitt (remember him?) would have recognised and applauded.

Fortunately, the journey from Baryn to London and back again isn’t the only one that Lev makes and, to the minds of many in the group, it is the second journey which Tremain describes with more profound insight and genuine empathy. Lev’s real journey home is the journey back from loss to belonging. As the novel opens Lev has lost his love, his livelihood and his home. With them, has gone his sense of worth. As the bus carries him relentlessly across Europe he is leaving behind all that has anchored him to the past and motivated his expectations for the future. His greatest ambition now is only to survive and to endure.

That he finally discovers within himself the ability to begin again, to turn a barren (Baryn) existence into one that promises new life, not just for him, but for his small community of family and friends, is Lev’s real triumph. And it is the account of this second journey which is Tremain’s real achievement.

So, all in all, we agreed to acknowledge but set aside concerns about the believability of some of the books minor characters, the stereotypical depiction of the London arts scene and the novel’s sometimes creaky narrative infrastructure to conclude that Tremain has written a good book, though not a great one.

On whether it was a worthy winner of the Orange we were divided. There was a general feeling amongst those who had read Tremain extensively that she has produced other novels with greater merit. Having not read them, I cannot say. Yet, I have a sneaking suspicion that it was Tremain’s subject matter, rather than the quality of her writing, that captured the judges’ attention in this case. Perhaps they, like so many of us, want to believe we’re not such a bad lot after all, that we understand the plight of the outsider and behave differently – and better – than our fellows. In doing so, however, do they run the risk of turning Tremain’s book into a politically correct fashion accessory, rather as Sophie made of Lev when she paraded him, uncomfortable in his too-expensive suede jacket, to boost her own kudos among her literary friends.

Annie Garthwaite.

Beth and Harriet

2008-08-19T10:58:00.003Z

Perched behind the counter, Harriet and big sister Beth turn up to give a hand with returns: we're zipping through it! What with two extra pairs of hands AND the "batch returns facility" we'll be done in a day! Progress indeed.

Children's Reading Group Fun Day 8/8/08

2008-08-08T15:16:00.016Z

A fun day it was, too! We wrote stories, played Bookchase and Snatch, had picnic lunches and lashings of homemade cake!

The next meetiong of the Children's Reading Group is September 5th, we shall be discussing The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn which the children are reading during the summer holidays.

The Paddington Bear Party

2008-07-12T12:48:00.014Z

Cynthia Gamble's book launch

2008-07-09T11:04:00.004Z

Persephone Books at Acton Round

2008-07-08T15:43:00.009Z

We were delighted to take part in Wenlock Festival by organising an event with Nicola Beauman, founder of Persephone Books. We had a wonderful evening, well blessed by the weather. My thanks to the Kennedys for their generosity in hosting the event, and to Tom Foxall for these photos. More of Tom's work can be seen at http://www.tomfoxall.com/

Poppy Adams

2008-07-08T15:39:00.005Z

First time novelist Poppy Adams spoke to a full house at the Guild Hall on Friday 4th July.

Children's Reading Group: Dower House Garden

2008-07-08T14:07:00.036Z

We took our lovely children's reading group to have a picnic tea at the Dower House garden with Katherine Swift. The rain meant that we took our picnic in the kitchen but it didn't stop us from exploring the garden.

Katherine talked to the children about the research for her book, and about the many intriguing excavations she made while first digging the garden.

The children took notes, and we hope they will write something about their afternoon: watch this space!

The Morville Hours: champagne and strawberries!

2008-07-08T13:44:00.017Z

Some forty of us descended upon the Dower House Garden on Sunday June 22nd to enjoy glasses of pink champagne and bowls of luscious strawberries, locally picked by Katherine and Sandy, served with lashings of clotted cream. What a feast! Add to that the beauty of the garden on an afternoon when the rain just held off, and we've got a pretty special event.

After a browse of the garden, Katherine led us into her library and talked to us about the writing of the book and the making of the garden. Lots of interesting questions followed, which Katherine answered with grace, humour and frankness: we were charmed!

The book signing afterwards looked something like a mini-Hay!

How Fiction Works

2008-07-08T13:31:00.008Z

The first course of seminars run by Betty James concluded with afternoon tea at the Copper Kettle. The next course starts in October and will study The Good German by Ford Maddox Ford with How Fiction Works by James Wood. It is a seven week course held at the bookshop on Tuesday afternoons, and costs £2.50 per session. Each person attending will need their own copies of the texts.

The Morville Hours

2008-06-13T13:33:00.039Z

On May 30th Wenlock Books hosted a champagne reception at Morville Hall, courtesy of Sara and Chris Douglas, to celebrate the phenomenal success of Katherine Swift's newly published " The Morville Hours." Attended by over seventy people, we had a marvellous evening, wandering around the Dower House garden, and then enjoying the Hall itself.

Here are some of the photographs taken that evening.

Reader's Retreat, Broniwan, Rhyd Lewis 2008

2008-04-01T15:46:00.012Z

Here's a selection of photos from our second reader's Retreat in Wales. If you like the look of it, our next visit is February 25th - March 1st; a day longer!
This is the converted chicken barn which we now use for silent reading or writing.

Walking on the beach, gathering for meals. Catching up on correspondence!

Jonathan Coe at The Edge

2008-03-07T13:37:00.006Z

To celebrate Wenlock Books reaching the age of 21 there is a year-long buffet of events. One of the recent celebrations was a visit by esteemed author Jonathon Coe. Jonathon read from his novel, The Rain before it falls, as well as doing an interview and answering questions from the audience.

The novel is based in Much Wenlock. Although this is his eighth published novel, it is in fact his first. It is not surprising then that whilst working on it he felt a strong sense of going back to the kind of writer he was and the kind of writing he did. In the late 1980’s every idea for the book was forged. However, at that point he did not feel mature or technically confident enough to tackle the ambitious and complex narrative which spans the central character’s life from 5 years old to 73. Jonathon adds, “I really enjoyed being a 73 year old lesbian. I felt more at home with that character than any other.”

So why Much Wenlock? It was when he first moved down to London that he watched Gone to Earth, a film based on local writer Mary Webb’s Novel. His homesickness for Shropshire replayed itself over and over until the video was jittery. Some of these freeze-frames make it in to the book, as photographs from his own family archive. In fact, the extract he read is based on an image from the film which was projected onto the wall of The Edge. Much of the film however was actually shot in California. So perhaps (even unintentionally) this is his way of bringing Gone to Earth back home.

After the reading was over, in true birthday style, everyone left with a goody bag with a signed copy of the book. It is a fascinating read and would have no less relevance to us if it was set in California. You must stop reading this blog now. Ring Wenlock Books up. Say: “One copy of The Rain Before it Falls please”. Then clear your weekend schedule and do nothing else but lay on the sofa reading it.

Anna Steward (for Wenlock Books)

Catherine O'Flynn: What Was Lost

2007-12-03T13:02:00.000Z

Catherine O’Flynn reading organised by Wenlock Books, Guildhall, Much Wenlock.

Walking into The Guildhall Council Chamber in Much Wenlock, you can’t help but feel that something important is going to happen, and more importantly, it might just involve you. Which it is, because author Catherine O’Flynn has come to a reading of her debut novel, What Was Lost. However, the part about you contributing to the importance is not so definite yet.

At the head of a long table is the impressive Major’s chair, which immediately you presume the writer will sit in, but instead she has placed herself mid-centre, amongst everyone else. This gesture is the first hint of what to expect: a humble author with no pretensions. The statement that follows it: “In Birmingham we burn down any buildings that look like this!” is her introduction.

And this is mine. Catherine O’Flynn, born in 1970, is a Birmingham-based writer. The amount of awards her first Novel has been long-listed and short-listed for is a list in itself and with good reason. What Was Lost is a book of secrets, liberation and loss. It has the relentless sadness you would find in a Thomas Hardy novel, but there is optimism, honesty and restraint, and even at her most brutal, O’Flynn has a sympathetic touch. The book is incredibly refreshing to read, it does not fit neatly into any one genre and there are no stereotypes.

Catherine O’Flynn describes her main character, Kate, who fights crime with a toy monkey and a notepad, as ‘more like the child I aspired to be.’ At a young age Catherine was, as she puts it, ‘ a less accomplished detective’ who used to jot down car registration numbers, stay up late reading detective text books and feel frustrated that she wasn’t allowed out at night to uphold the law. Much of the novel is drawn from her own experiences of working as a post-woman, music shop manager and teacher. The details, characters and observations reflect this. Many writers when asked, shy away from revealing which characters or elements are autobiographical, but not this one. ‘That was me’ she states honestly when asked about the central character.

In fact, the book began as snippets of notes she would write down after finishing work ‘to remember how odd it was.’ It wasn’t until she moved to Spain for a year that the book began to take shape and she wrote it over two years. Initially rejected by a handful of top publishers, Catherine suggested the Birmingham based, independent publisher Tindal Street Press who snapped it up. The novel has now been longlisted for the 2007 Man Booker Prize for Fiction, the Orange Prize for Fiction. It is shortlisted for the Costa First Book Award and won the Jelf Group First Novel Award at the Guildford Book Festival. The list she discovered herself on first was the Orange Prize for Fiction. She describes how she found out: ‘I was up early one morning and went on the internet the day that it was announced. I don’t think I was fully awake because at first I thought my name was there because I was using my computer, so I kept refreshing the webpage. It was such a shock.’

What Was Lost is also one of five novels short-listed for The Guardian First Book Award which will be announced on December 6th. The Guardian First Book Award is judged partly by members of the public who participate through reading groups. I know that Wenlock Books’ reading group will have their fingers crossed, and so that I suppose is where their important part comes in.
Anna Steward.

Phil Rickman at Wenlock Books

2007-12-03T12:57:00.000Z

Phil Rickman, creator of Merrily Watkins, sexy lady vicar and diocesan Deliverance Consultant, was due at Wenlock Books on 3 November and was the reason for our drive up the Welsh Marches and across the mist-smoked Edge to Much Wenlock.

My daughter, Louisa and I, hooked by the stories of unquiet personalities who needed the skills of an exorcist (and these administered by a woman) in the mysterious settings of Welsh/English border folklore, saw Rickman locations all round. Autumn trees dressed in vestments of gold and bronze, timeless, shadowed hills looming on the horizon, black armed hop yards signifying. The man who dreamed up Merrily, Gomer Parry, her Knight with the shining JCB, Lol, sensitive song-writer with the damaged background and the always fascinating Jane, daughter, rebel and thorn in the flesh of authority, was in Anna’s bookshop waiting to sign.

Phil had an air of Lol-like anxiety about him when he discovered that we wanted to ask questions first.

Q. What inspired him to write about a female exorcist in the first place?

Q. Was the landscape of the Welsh-English border with its other worldly echoes instrumental in devising plots?

He confessed that Merrily was not originally conceived as the main character. This was Gomer Parry in ‘The Wine of Angels’ but as he wrote more, Merrily’s attraction beguiled him. He never totally works out plots but lets them evolve. The idea of a woman priest in the Church of England who was also the diocesan exorcist opened a treasure trove of material. A female exorcist is an inviting target and people under threat make interesting subjects to write about. Paganism is apparently the fastest growing religion and this gives Merrily in her ancient mystical landscapes of the Hereford-Radnor borders plenty to occupy her.

Merrily’s parish of Ledwardine is a combination of Weobley and Pembridge. The sense of place resonates in Phil Rickman’s books. In talking about this Phil recommended the American writer James Lee Burke as a master of using place, in this case Louisiana, in his books about an ex-alcoholic Roman Catholic cop.

The talk turned to genre since it was hard to categorise the ‘Merrily’ books. Were they horror, mystery or crime? While ‘horror’ writers in the USA are viewed with some esteem, for example, Stephen King, in Britain to be a ‘crime’ writer has more kudos. For Phil Rickman the idea of a crime investigated from a different angle, from the perspective of a woman who is employed because of her belief in the ‘may be’ of the paranormal holds continuous fascination. This is not ‘horror’.

Obviously in stories where the writer allows himself to be led by the unfolding plot, so much so that sometimes the original theme can vanish, the craft of editing the finished product is crucial. In this Phil Rickman gave all credit to his wife. There was quite a discussion about the lack of good editing in today’s publishing companies so that even the work of authors like Lynda La Plante suffered.

For me the dialogue between the characters in the ‘Merrily’ books is what makes them really live. Jane’s abbreviated conversations with her boyfriend, Eirion, are brilliant and her laid-back concern laced with scorn for her mother’s activities is so evocative of adolescent chagrin when dealing with peculiar parents. I love the rhythms of Gomer’s speech, I have a nostalgia for them after living among Cardiganshire countrymen for many years. He is utterly believable. As for the ‘incomers’, they make me laugh even if the story-line indicates otherwise. Phil touched on the importance of dialogue and modestly recommended the later books of Joanna Trollope for their stripped down style.

I think he is a past-master himself.

Over organic coffee and great cake, the talk ranged over secret societies, anti-Christ and Richard Dawkins, the absolute necessity of a deadline and the demise of the gentleman-publisher.

Phil did sign books in the end and admitted that he had enjoyed the meeting and even that it was a good idea for bookshops to run this kind of thing. Of course! And it is all down to Anna.

When Louisa and I left we felt that Phil’s characters, so familiar to those of us who are fans of the ‘Merrily’ books, might also walk into the bookshop themselves to ask Anna’s advice on some arcane literary matter. It is the sort of place they would like. And I think Phil Rickman thought so too.

PS
Phil fronts a Sunday afternoon book programme on BBC Radio Wales called
‘Phil the Shelf’

Carole Jacobs.

URSUS by Rory Kelly

2007-10-18T10:40:00.000Z

Ursus

Crescent Lane’s always had a bit of a reputation: there’ve always been rumours flying around. I just ignored them. I thought people were just trying to put me off. I mean, when people say a place is a bit weird they usually just mean it hasn’t got a Tesco’s within three metres.I didn’t realise what they meant when they said it was ‘odd’.I didn’t realise they were warning me.I didn’t realise there’d be demons.

There was no particular sing that that day would be particularly special. Some bills in the post, a message on the answering machine from some half-forgotten friend about a half-forgotten meeting.
Then I walked into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.
There was more than enough water for the kettle. There was more than enough water for twenty thousand kettles; it was everywhere!
There was literally a river flowing through my shop. The water was up to my waist and rushing past me all the time and I didn’t feel a thing! There were huge chunks of ice, big enough to crash ships, and they were passing right through my body as if I wasn’t there!
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” The voice was deep and slow, but powerful. Whoever said it was obviously putting weight into their words. It was a voice that made you listen.
I glanced around. Nothing but salmon and kingfishers. “Why can’t I see you?”
The voice seemed like it was coming from in front of me. “Do you want to?”
“…yes?” I ventured.
There was a sigh and a polar bear appeared at the river’s side. He was huge, twice the size of the river and with a whiter-than-white coat. But he didn’t look dangerous, he looked sad. A kingfisher fluttered down and rested on his shoulder, he didn’t seem to notice.
“I’ve been following this stream all my life.” Stream wasn’t a big enough word to describe the volume of water, but I thought better of contradicting a bear that was four time my size. “Do you know how long the average polar bear lives?”
“No.” I’d probably read it somewhere, but it’s not the sort of thing you remember at a time like that.
“Eighteen years. Can you guess how old I am?”
“…Twenty?”
“I’m eighty two years of age. This stream has kept me alive for that long. But now, the stream is drying up, because I’ve realised the truth.” His voice was so serious, like he was judging me. “The truth is that this stream is a trap. It extends your life by giving you whatever you need,” He stuck out his paw a fish jumped into it, he gave it to the kingfisher and it flew off. “But it consumes your entire life; you spend all your time tracing the stream. You forget to live: you remember only to survive.” He suddenly leant forward so his face was right up against mine, and I could feel his warm, putrid breath. He sounded angry. “I am old, and therefore wise, so listen to what I have to say.” All of a sudden, I could hear thunder, “Let the stream dry up. Don’t allow it to claim another victim.” There was a purple swirl of smoke behind him, which started to pull him backwards. “Don’t waste time fearing death, enjoy what life you’re given, and, when your time comes, you’ll be able to accept it. Otherwise you might as well be dead.” There was a bright flash of light, and he was gone with only an echo of “Let the stream fade” to remember him by.
But the river didn’t disappear. It started to bubble, I looked around, and the entire stream was boiling, with me in it. I tired to wade to the side, but reeds started to grab at my feet. Clawing at my legs.
I was trapped.
And then she rose out of the water, like some beautiful dolphin. She was made of the water of the river, but she looked solid, like she could take your hand, or your life. She was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and there was a light shining behind her, making her look ethereal. She offered out her hand to me.
“Don’t be afraid,” her voice was bubble being blown, “This stream will sustain you forever. Just take my hand and I’ll give you whatever you desire.” Her eyes were glowing, making her all the more tempting. “What is it you want most?”
I glanced around: the kitchen was small. I could get a bigger one, I could have a palace. I could be a king. I could have all the books in the world, and everything on a platter.
But…what would be the point? I’d just have to follow the stream all the time, I’d have no freedom at all. I’d be a prisoner.
“What I really want,” I leant over and switched on the kettle, “is a cup of tea.”
The river burst into a cloud of steam, the fish jumped up and exploded into dust. The kingfisher shrieked as it dissolved before my eyes. The kitchen shook and the woman fixed me with the proudest stare imaginable.
“Well done.”

by Rory Kelly

Visiting Persephone

2007-10-05T13:23:00.002Z

Pam and I travelled swiftly down to the Bloomsbury area of London to Old Conduit Street for a literary luncheon in the Persephone Book Shop. Ali Smith was to talk about Katherine Mansfield's work and in particular the 'Montana Stories' and 'Journal', that Persephone books have published.

We were looking forward to listening to Ali Smith and also to see the bookshop that published these interesting novels with extras that make them so charming, (lined in a fabric pattern that also makes a book mark, thicker book paper, uniform covers etc).

And charming and stimulating the lunch was. Ali Smith was extremely entertaining in her colourful delivery and in-depth knowledge of Katherine Mansfield. I almost felt that she had met and knew her ! Also as a writer of short stories herself, Ali really appreciated the quality of Mansfield's works and identified issues that many of us had missed.

Lunch was just right, lovely salads, puddings, cheeses and yummy biscuits to lead us into the next session. Ali read the short story 'This Flower' published in 1919 and then we all discussed it. It brought out how we as women were intrigued with the detail of Mansfield's writing, how she captured the moment but you never quite knew where the story was going.

All this was held in the bookshop which is charming and really is the administrative hub for the distribution of the books. From talking to the employees we understood how they are distributed worldwide and indeed from the 30 or so ladies at lunch there were several nationalities represented. Old Conduit Street is pedestianised so its in a perfect location for London.

All in all it was great to bring the Katherine Mansfield books alive by visiting the place from where they are published and to listen to someone who really appreciated her work.

Finally, Nicola the owner of Persephone Books is coming up to Much Wenlock next year on June 20th for the Wenlock Festival to talk about her experiences in publishing. The event is to be called “An Evening with Persephone” and will be held at Acton Round, courtesy of Sue and Huw Kennedy. Pimms and smoked salmon sandwiches will be served: that's a date to put in the diary !

Sue Birt.

Rory's Worxperience diary

2007-09-11T13:14:00.000Z

Rory Kelly, from William Brookes School in Much Wenlock is currently doing work experience in the bookshop. In addition to mundane chores such as unpacking boxes and making the coffee, I've asked him to keep a diary of his few days here.

Rory is pictured here, second from left with author Anne Fine and other pupils from William Brookes School.

Rory’s Worxperience Diary: Tuesday

“You have to turn your hand to everything when you run your own business”- Anna’s words rang in my head as I alternated between the methodical up-down strokes of painting a bit of wall in the shop and the hectic grab-everything-before-the-kettle-boils rush of making tea and coffee. The tea and coffee were much appreciated by the customers who browsed the choc-a-bloc shelves, unlike my rendition of ‘Under the sea’- a must for any paint job.

Disney songs aside, I can see why so many people visit this shop: it’s got an ambience of relaxed enjoyment, not to mention enough books to feed a silverfish army. But such an atmosphere needs a lot of attention. The shop’s being repainted, with each wall in a different colour. And, due to the wooden support beams holding up the building, this requires care, deft handiwork and skill. Luckily, I could use masking tape and a damp cloth in the place of these.

Though the world’s best painter award escapes me for another year, I did manage to add the final two coats needed for the particular space being painted today, so now I go through the process of watching paint dehydrate. This is actually quite tantalising, as it’s now I spot any flecks that may have eluded me and wonder if anyone else will notice and if it’s too late to wipe them away. So, don’t believe what people tell you: watching paint dry will make you jump with excitement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Forget sci-fi stories on planets with seas of liquid ammonia: try a sea of books. That's what there was on the top floor of Much Wenlock books this afternoon. After carrying the last of the fourteen boxes up the stairs, I gave a sigh of relief and allowed myself a short breather. It was then that I saw, in the distance, a figure drowning in the vast ocean.

My jacket.

Clearly a little lifesaving was in order, not least because my lunch money was in there. So, diving into the unknown, I nimbly manoeuvred my way around the boxes, careful not tread anything, grabbed my jacket, manoeuvred my way back again, only to realise I'd left the paintbrush back there. So, once more, I waded in and back again only to realise my keys had fallen somewhere in the depths.

But, my drenching was only a minor part of the afternoon. I also read the first three chapters of A Fortnight in September by RC Sherriff, an enjoyable romp which makes you realise how many idiosyncrasies we've all got and how stupid some of them are. On top of this I unpacked some orders which Anna received- who knows where she'll put them?- and did some washing up, showing that us Baywatch-style heroes have to do real work as well.

Rory's Worxperience Diary: Wednesday

The friend who gave me a lift in was telling me all about how he was going to a ‘Business Meeting’ *cough cough* at Staffordshire today. This got me wondering: how can we revolutionise the workplace so it has more of the feel of the outside world? This is why, while doing pre-painting arrangements on the first floor, I tried to simulate the atmosphere of the beach, by making a sand-castle out of the grains of wood, left from sandpapering the sill. Sadly, the castle was attacked by a feather duster, and fell before its might foe, its citizens scattered to the wind (literally).

But I was far from disheartened. Next, I gave the job of cutting open the boxes of books the feel of a bear skinning some freshly caught prey. However, the prey was still alive, and used its most deadly tactic: having eight different openings, all super-glued down. This made it immune to the scissors the bear armed itself with, but the bear was determined and, eventually, the precious treasures inside could be accessed.

Finally, while painting the window, I gave the paint the feeling of a waterfall by always painting down. I failed to remember at the bottom of the falls was my hand. Oh well, the garden of Eden required sacrifice as well, although I think the apples of knowledge may taste more of ink and paper.

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There was certainly an air of nostalgia as we all sat sipping tea, eating cake and listening to each other's memories of family holidays. For that's the subject of RC Sherriff's A Fortnight in September, and, despite its being published over seventy years ago, we all found it held a ring of truth. We could all relate to the mixed feelings of anxiety, freedom and eye-opening realisations described within its pages. We could all recognise the characters, either in people we knew or in ourselves. And we could all picture the scenes of worry during the journey, frustration during the rush out of the house and sadness at having to leave.

But it wasn't just holidays and history that I felt was being revisited in people's heads, I could also sense them all reliving previous bookshop meetings, either through actual verbal references or through the looks in their eyes as we dissected the literature. Being my first visit to a reading group I don't know for sure, but I'd imagine it'd be easy to build up quite a history: the ones that always disagree, the folks who sit on the fence. Like the events in the book we were debating, there was a way to the meetings which was really lovely to witness. All but one of the members had been coming for more than a year and they all knew what to point out in a book and what was uninteresting.

Amongst these veterans it would've been easy to feel like an outsider but the sense of good-natured, wholesome enjoyment- we were there to discuss books, nothing more sinister- drew me in.

Well, that and the cake.

Rory's Worxperience Diary: Thursday

I witnessed a special event today: a young soul’s first visit to a bookshop. At only four months, the infant was wide-eyed with anticipation at the colourful tomes around it. I don’t know what was going through its head - I don’t know whether it knew where it was or what the books were. I only knew one thing for certain: this was one customer who didn’t want tea and coffee.

As well as pondering how old you have to be to appreciate the brilliant taste of char, I also lent my hand to peeling the masking tape from the window. That’s one of those jobs where you always manage to get paint on yourself no matter how careful you are: the universe simply dictates that it must be so. And therefore it was with a heavy heart that I separated the window from the tape and revealed the casement’s new tangerine-style to the world while simultaneously splattering myself. On the bright side, I can now be seen in low light areas.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A Thursday afternoon story:

Silver fish by Rory Kelly

Crescent Lane’s always had a bit of a reputation: there’ve always been rumours flying around. I just ignored them. I thought people were just trying to put me off. I mean, when people say a place is a bit weird they usually just mean it hasn’t got a Tesco’s within three metres.
I didn’t realise what they meant when they said it was ‘odd’.
I didn’t realise they were warning me.
I didn’t realise there’d be demons.

I only found out at all because I’d left my notebook in the shop. Grumbling to myself, I waded through the junk in my pockets, tried the wrong key twice, finally found the right one, turned it the wrong way, and finally let myself in to find…silver.
I don’t work in a mine or a jewellers. I work in a bookshop. I don’t expect to see silver. Especially not on the walls. But there it was, all around, creating a shine that was almost blinding.
But that wasn’t all. The silver was moving. It was literally pulsating. It shifted before my eyes. It was liquid, that was obvious, but it looked so very thick.
I tried to speak, to put my bemusement into words, but I couldn’t. My mouth wouldn’t move. It was stuck gaping. I took a step forward slowly; I almost expected the stuff to vanish. It didn’t. I glanced out the window, expecting to see a youth with a spray can, but no-one was there.
“Hello?” I called. The shop was deserted- I could see that - but I checked anyway. “If any one’s in here, this is trespassing. I’ll phone the police.” I don’t know how I expected them to have got in: I hadn’t actually left sight of the building before I realised I’d forgotten my notebook.
“This is your last chance: come out, now!” Okay.
Before I could react there was the sound of a deep breath and all the silver jumped off the walls. I yelped and ducked as it bunched together in the middle of the room, right above my head. I gazed up in horror as the swirling orb stretched out, shooting out tiny strands as it went.
There was the sound of mud being compacted and suddenly it wasn’t just a load of liquid metal.
It was an insect.

It looked like a moth with no wings, and yet it was still hovering above me. It was still mainly silver in colour, but there was a bluish tint now. It had such wide eyes.
“…” my mouth just hung open. What could I say?
It’s rude to stare.
The voice was like an echo of an old man whispering.
“W-What are you?”
A silverfish.
Silverfish? A friend in the book trade had warned me about them: they ate the bindings of books. But he never mentioned them being the size of a car.
Or that they could talk.
“What do you want?”
Knowledge.
“W-what?”
I’ve come for a book, he said, ignoring my question, I need information.
“What information?”
Where to find other silverfish.
“Why do you need to know that?”
So we can rally against a common enemy.
“I don’t have any books on that subject.”
I’d just discovered that for myself. There was the same noise of mud being squelched together and all the books were back in place; I hadn’t even noticed they were gone.
“So, you’ll be going?”
Eventually. First, I must ask you: how long have you owned this shop?
“Only a month.”
Pity, I could’ve used your help. I’m sorry for startling you.
He started to float slowly towards the door; I found myself crawling on all fours after him.
“Wait!” I called: I didn’t even know what I wanted to ask him.
Yes? He didn’t even turn to look at me.
“This…enemy. What is it?”
He sighed and the silver along his back quivered. He suddenly sounded even older. For years your kind have been making books, and my kind have been devouring them, loving the stories and knowledge we gained. But now… another sigh… you don’t seem to need as many books.

And with that he floated out the door. I never saw him again, and I never got word of a ‘silverfish uprising’. But that night, just as I was about to check what was on the TV, I put down the remote, got down my favourite book and felt much better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When humans are told to think of a number between one and four, seventy-five percent of us will choose three (hands up those who did…be honest!). This isn’t necessarily because three’s our favourite number it’s just the one that catches our attention first. I believe the same happened to me when I was asked to choose ten mugs from the Penguin catalogue and order them over the phone. All the mugs bore the titles of classic books, and I told myself I’d choose ones I knew first: but no, I was automatically drawn to ‘Vile bodies’ and ‘Hotel Splendide’; which I hadn’t even heard of before. Only after did I notice ‘Nineteen Eighty Four’ and ‘The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes’, both of which I have perused.

Speaking of inappropriate choices, my form tutor came to visit me yesterday at the worst possible time. It’s no secret that, as my sister so eloquently put it, ‘Everything Rory touches turns to dust - meaning it’s either broken or ‘temporarily misplaced…forever’. So, I was extra careful while handling the mugs and jugs of the bookshop, I traversed the stairs carefully whenever holding anything and I never ever used one hand to hold anything breakable. This strategy worked right up until the second Mr. Garnett walked in and I broke a folder simply by opening it. Luckily, Super-Mollie swooped in and used the powers her magic boots gave her to fix it. But, even still, Mr. Garnett had to pick day number three instead of two or one out of all the four.

Rory’s Worxperience Diary- Friday

Meeting Sister Immaculate Rose

Uganda is a country in East Africa, bordered by Kenya, Tanzania and Sudan. Today I had the pleasure of speaking to Sister Immaculate Rose, a Ugandan nun who is the head teacher of a special unit which teaches Deaf and Deafblind children. This was Sister’s first visit to England, and she said she’d enjoyed it very much. She said that the English were very generous with donations and the way deaf children could fit in with others their own age was admirable. Things in Uganda are different; it’s still considered somewhat shameful to have a deaf child, and some parents go as far as hiding their children. One of Sister’s jobs is to go around villages and ask the other parents if they know of any Deaf or Deafblind children in the area. Sometimes parents will give the children to Sister Immaculate and refuse to take them back; sometimes children will be given to Sister Immaculate and refuse to go back. But she said attitudes are improving: she started with a class of only twelve in a single room which had to be used for everything. But now she has over two hundred students and a unit devoted to her cause. She tries to show parents that deaf children can learn and have a life too by putting on concerts and organising football matches.
A devout Catholic belonging to an order called ‘Daughters of Mary’, Sister said she doesn’t discriminate the children she takes by religion and nor does she try to change them. She also teaches acceptance to the children and tells them not to force their beliefs on others.
Sister said she doesn’t believe deaf and hearing children can be mixed in African schools, as enough translators can’t be found and the deaf children would struggle. She told me how there aren’t enough teachers specially trained to help deaf children, as the government doesn’t offer them more money and so Sister must try and find extra money to add to their salaries from other means. The children are taught all the same lessons as in England, but Sister also teaches practical lessons like woodwork or knitting, so the children won’t be a burden to their parents when they return home.
It was really eye-opening to meet this selfless woman who’s given so much to help children who have so little, and I really hope this article will inspire people to help her in any way possible.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anna was telling me today how her greatest fear would be that it should rain on the two days before Christmas. “It’s when the shop’s most busy”, she said, “And if it rains all the customers will go to Telford or Merryhill.” Anna’s pluviophobia (Yay! New word for the day!) is understandable: she keeps some books and calendars outside, leaving them exposed to the elements. That’s why she and I kept a wary eye on the horizon this morning, lest the heavens opened. Sadly, they did, and we had to rush out rescue the books from certain soddiness. But other than the downpour’s unexpected appearance, today was fairly calm. I unpacked the mugs I ordered yesterday, feeling like a schoolboy presenting his homework to the rest of the class, unpacked some new books, labelled them, stacked them, and then phoned any customers’ whose orders had come in (I was halfway through dialling my home number when I realised). I also spoke to Sister Immaculate Rose, for details see above, who has to be one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. So, all in all, quite relaxing, maybe I’ll sing ‘Under the Sea’ to spice things up…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of the questions I was asked while on worxperience was how different I thought it'd be if I'd gone to work at Waterstones, WH smith or another big chain book shop. I think it'd have been a lot less varied for one; I doubt I'd have painted, for example, or got to use the till or many of the other cool things I got to do. When me and Anna sat down and wrote a list between us, it was over two pages long. Which is quite an accomplishment since I was only there for four days. It was nice to be surrounded by the colourful covers of the latest books, instead of the grey walls of school, with tomes of knowledge not posters telling me I wasn't allowed to chew. The experience really helped me to see what running your own business is about, and I wrote a story on one day which my English tutor said was some of my best work so it must have been inspiring in some way.

BBC Writer's Commission

2007-05-29T08:54:00.000Z

BBC Writers' Commission or
Writing a Short Story for the BBC
(an exercise in collaborative writing! )

It starts with an e-mail from Anna:
“The BBC has chosen the Wenlock Books Reading Groups Consortium (!) to work with a writer, probably Helen Cross, on a new piece of writing commissioned by us. This will then be broadcast on a series of programmes the BBC is doing on Radio 4…….
….This will be an interesting and exciting project, and it would seem that our main task is to collectively come up with an idea for a story! What fun!”

First meeting 23/05/07 - 6.00pm in the bookshop:
The process begins:
ailing but recovering Anna introduces the attendees to the concept – we are being asked to collaborate with published author Helen Cross to write a short story for broadcast on BBC Radio 4 in March 2008. (Nothing like thinking ahead!)
The West Midlands Readers’ Network have selected 5 different types of reading group from the West Midlands – of which the Much Wenlock consortium of reading groups is one - to each work with a local author. The resulting stories will be recorded at The Birmingham Conservatoire in October for later broadcast. The BBC is also interested in recording the process of consultation and discussion within each group that leads to the final version of each short story.

This first meeting is to engender interest and to begin to consider such questions as:
· What makes a successful short story? What do we like and dislike about short stories and what challenges might this present to writing one?
· What genre would we like? Romance? Comedy? Science Fiction? Adventure?
· Do we want the story to be plot or character driven?
· What makes a good title?
· Do we have any half –finished (or half-baked?) short stories or examples of incidents that might be woven into the story?

Those readers who are interested agree to meet again on June 6th at 5.45 to pull together some ideas. In the meantime we will:
Consider the questions above.
Find out about Helen Cross and her style of writing.
Contribute to an anonymous pot any embryonic short stories and incidents we would like to offer as stimuli for ideas.

Helen Cross will attend the meeting on June 13th at 7.30 along with representatives from the BBC and The West Midlands Readers’ Network. I’m sure we are all looking forward to meeting Helen – and to seeing the process of collaboration in action.

Second meeting 06/06/07 - 6.45pm in the bookshop.
The group meets to consider responses to the questions posed by Anna a fortnight ago.

Most people have read some of Helen Cross’ body of work as a way of seeing how her literary strengths can best be utilised to produce the most excellent short story possible. There is a general feeling of excitement at the prospect of actually beginning to work with her.

The group have plenty of ideas and inspirations for the story, but we agree not to expand on them too fully so that they will be fresh when we all meet up with Helen Cross next week. Of course, we have yet to hear Helen’s take on the whole project and there is still to be discussion and agreement about the way in which we all want the process of making the story to develop.

So next week is the time when the process will really begin – 7.15pm on Wednesday 13th June at the bookshop. Judith Boot will be taking on the role of chairperson as unfortunately Anna will be relaxing in sunny Swanage. (Unfortunately for whom?). The meeting will also be attended by Jonathan Davidson on behalf of The West Midlands Readers’ Network and of course Helen Cross and the interested members of the reading groups. There may also be representatives from the BBC who may want to record the process of collaboration, mediation and cooperation as the story develops.

Watch this space………..

Third meeting 13.06.07
The group meets with Helen Cross

Having seen numerous photographs of Helen Cross on websites and book covers as I was trying to become familiar with her books and her style of writing it was strange to meet her in person. When she first came into the room was as if I already knew her and yet as she introduced herself and gave us her take on the project it was obvious that we were only just beginning the process of getting to know her.

She first explained the many and varied projects she had completed in the past. Everything from a short story to launch a new perfume to a radio play and all stops between! This experience, added to her obvious enthusiasm for this project and a work(wo)man-like attitude to writing convinced me that the final short story would be a worthy addition to both the traditions of short stories read on Radio 4 and to short-story writing in general. It will be interesting to see what develops from her obvious interest in ideas from us readers and whether we recognize any of them – or indeed ourselves.

If we had preconceptions about her, then I think she also had preconceptions about us! She seemed surprised by some of the answers to her probing questions and it was obvious that we gave her much food for thought. (Not just the wine and cake that were alluded to throughout the evening!) She seemed delighted that we didn’t just want a story about a group of readers in a provincial town. Perhaps we’ll get something a bit more edgy!

She explained that she is at her most comfortable when beginning writing when she has a particular character in a particular situation – and can then just see where the character and the situation wander and how they develop.

What was it we liked about short stories? How did we like them to end? What type of character did we relate to? She had plenty of questions and listened carefully to the answers, slowly mentally sorting the wheat from the chaff. We watched her too.
Did she like the idea of taking random words and seeing if they ignited a spark? Clerihew, post-modern, serendipity, jealousy, juxtaposed, journey, millstone, forebears, carapace. Any good?
Was she interested in the idea of a mother/daughter relationship that has gone astray yet is resolved on a balloon trip?
Was researching family history a way into her story?
What about a modern ghost story?
A minor misunderstanding which, if never resolved, becomes a barrier in a relationship?
Or a situation where a change of plan can lead to a range of unforeseen consequences?

Ideas that appealed were noted on her paper – and she wrote a lot – although she had to admit that a spark hadn’t ignited instantly and this was going to be more of a slow burn.

Mary Ward-Lowery, from the BBC, was there to record the whole discussion and apparently she captured some good stuff! She is making a documentary about the whole process and will be visiting some of the other reading groups and their authors before editing all her footage together to be broadcast at the same time as the finished short stories.

So that was the evening. A meeting between Helen Cross and some Much Wenlock readers. An exchange of ideas. Now we must wait to see what will come of it….

Linda Richards, Much Wenlock Reading Groups.

Anne Fine

2007-05-11T15:14:00.000Z

As part of Shrewsbury Bookfest, we were delighted to welcome Anne Fine to Much Wenlock. Anne arrived as I was reading The Silver Sword by Ian Serraillier to our children's reading group; they were thrilled to meet her and chatted happily until their parents hauled them away! Anne, Pam Parish (Bookfest organiser), Judith Boot (events organiser, Wenlock Books) and I then had a delicious supper, catered by Clare Wozniak - formerly of Eden - where we put the publishing world to rights, before going to Beverley Fry's Fry on the Wall gallery just outside Much Wenlock. Anne entertained us with readings from her many award-winning books, and took questions from the floor. We were very pleased that so many young people attended the evening, and some pupils from William Brookes School came along, as they have been shadowing this year's Carnegie Award, for which Anne is shortlisted: again.

Pictured above Mollie, Rory, Anne Fine, Ruth, Tom and Ben.

Harry Potter: Seven books, One story

2007-04-27T09:43:00.000Z

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is the seventh and final episode in the Harry Potter series. To launch and celebrate this monumental event in children's publishing, Wenlock Books is proud to announce that once again, we shall be travelling on a midnight steam train for Potter fans to collect their books in the depths of the Shropshire countryside.

We shall have a night of magic, with Quidditch teams, wizards, Harry Potter and Hagrid (of course!) and to go with all of that there will be live music, refreshments, sale of Harry Potter merchandise and much, much more.

Our intention is the same as for book 6; to give you a night to remember!

This event is open to ALL ages (children under three travel free) and to take part you need to contact the bookshop as soon as you can (tickets are selling FAST!). If you have email then that is definitely the best way to communicate with us about this event.

There are a few of our photos from last year below; do join us and let the magic commence!

Ali Smith comes to Much Wenlock

2007-04-13T08:45:00.000Z

Ali Smith visits Shropshire Reading Group

The Independent Bookseller of the Year Wenlock Books in Shropshire were the lucky recipients of a visit by Ali Smith as part of the Penguin/Orange Reading Group prize.

The evening with Ali Smith was my first 'meet the author' experience. I feared that it would involve a solemn academic discussion, deconstructing her writing until the pleasure of reading her works would be lost. I was wrong.
Ali Smith's warmth and expressed preference for informality started a lively question and answer session: Anna and the audience asking wide-ranging and interesting questions. The answers were thoughtful and considered and had no ring of well-practised, routine responses.
We heard about Ali's love of words for their power and beauty, the motivations and mechanics of her writing, her businesslike approach to work and some of her writing 'heroes'. She described how she approaches the process of writing. She doesn't start with any clear idea of where the book is going to go nor even necessarily whether it is going to be a novel or a short story. Her starting point is character, and from their development and continuous, rigorous editing, the story and plot emerge. Everything she writes helps her with this development even though much of it may not be used. Each edit gives her direction as to where she goes next. Ali is keen to encourage others to write, perhaps calling on her previous experience as a lecturer in Cambridge, not necessarily to attempt a novel but to write about the small things in life purely for enjoyment and satisfaction.
She then read the prologue of her novel The Accidental, continuing by request into the first chapter. It was fascinating to see how the power of reading aloud clarified the character and renewed interest in the story, particularly for a fellow participant who had initially found it rather inaccessible. This led to discussion about whether readers needed to find 'a voice' for a character to properly engage with them.
We moved on to discussion of short stories, a loved genre for Ali, whose latest collection has just been published. Ali finished the more formal part of the evening by reading one of her stories Writ, written for the 2006 Oundle Literary Festival. The story is the complex and engaging narration of a mother's experiences reflected through what she anticipates and fears for her fourteen year old daughter.
During coffee, Ali wandered around talking to smaller groups and willingly signing books with personalised messages. This gave people the chance for further individual discussion. She was in no hurry to get away but all good things have to come to an end. She had been very generous with her time, as were our hosts Clare, Richard and Harriet, who were too kind to throw us out.
By the end of the evening I had the clear impression that everyone had really enjoyed meeting Ali and that she, in turn, had enjoyed meeting us!

Written by Diane Jones, with additional input from Lorna Taylor.

Reading Day at Brook Cottage, January 7th 2007

2007-01-08T10:52:00.000Z

We met yesterday to discuss two books of short stories; The View from Castle Rock by Alice Munro, and The Whole Story and Other Stories by Ali Smith. As I'm not really a short story reader, I was intrigued by my reactions to these stories compared to other readers, and we had an interesting discussion about "how to..." read short stories!

One of the readers present said that she thought reading too many short stories all at once was a similar experience to eating a whole box of very rich chocolates; after a while they all taste the same and you feel sick! Her strategy was to read one short story every once in a while, as a break or a change from her other reading. Then, while she was out walking the dog, or just going through her day, she would play with the story in her mind; searching for conclusions or resolutions, or just letting it settle.

Another reader said that he read short stories because of time constraints, and that when he was choosing to read a short story rather than a longer work, he needed it to fulfill certain criteria regarding length, quality of writing and so on, for it to be a satisfying experience.

We mostly agreed that short stories probably needed to be read slowly ( like poetry?) and posssibly even to be read aloud, for the full weight and meaning of the stories to come through. Those of us who had been at the literary evening at Eden with Ali Smith in December agreed that when she read aloud from her short story, Writ, and from her novel, The Accidental, we were able to engage with the story in a different way, and to appreciate nuances of tone in a way we had missed when reading silently in our heads.

We talked a lot about "voice"; both in the context of the voice we hear when stories are read aloud, but also the authorial voice and how we respond to it. Ali Smith's voice, for example, was felt to be extremely distinctive, and we talked about her style; the way she seems to write in the way we seem to think; going off at tangents, not being afriaid to make a sentence as long or as short as it needed to be. We talked about how the reader's responsibilty was to work at understanding; about how we didn't want it handed to us on a plate, and that it was actually up to us to work at unravelling what were very dense stories. Ali Smith doesn't render her meanings lightly, and this could be frustrating if it weren't for the intense readerly joy that is to be had along the way.

In contrast, we felt that Alice Munro's writing, in this collection at least, could be described as clear, simple, descriptive, and narratively driven. This isn't to say we didn't think it was fine writing; it was! She transported us through time and place, and we had to remind ourselves that although we were reading Castle Rock as autobiography or memoir, she herself had told us that these were stories. Of course, this led to much discussion about the writing of memoir as opposed to story telling; the slippage between fact and fiction is always intriguing!

There were some lovely points of connection between these two seemingly diverse books. The theme of women, trees and sexuality came up in both, and had me scurrying to find Zora Neal Hurston's wonderful Their Eyes Were Watching God: "Oh to be a pear tree, any tree in bloom..." As we know that Ali Smith has also read Hurston, it led us to wonder how often she might have taken a favourite piece of (probably not very well known) literature, and played with it, transformed it, made it completely her own, made it luminous and wonderful, just for the fun of the intellectual exercise! Other connections were that Smith is Scottish, and Munro of Scottish ancestry, and both are great observers of people and relationships. Both also addressed the issue of women on the edge, and of not wanting to stand out or draw attention to oneself, though each handled it very differently.

If you have read these books, and would like to join in our on-line group to discuss the books or these writers with other readers, please go to the Forum link at the top of this page, and follow the links to log in; we look forward to sharing ideas with you!

From Sally:
A Reading Day at Brook Cottage, deep in the Shropshire countryside, what a wonderful way to spend a wet and miserable Sunday in January. I left home in plenty of time as I had chosen to make soup as my contribution for lunch; this necessitated careful driving, no emergency stops or two-wheel cornering if I cared about the interior of my car. As a result I was the first to arrive and was welcomed at the door of her charming house, by our hostess, Anna Dreda. The cottage was welcoming and cosy, three log fires burned in various rooms, a delicious smell of baking emanated from the kitchen and pretty garlands of fir and fruits intertwined with lights festooned the beams and mantelpieces lending a celebratory air.

Our Readers arrived in ones and twos, some of them I knew from my time at Wenlock Books, others were new to me. An informal meeting with coffee and the heavenly biscuits that Anna had just removed from the oven, took place and introductions were made. I had not been to one of these events and I felt a pleasant 'let's get on with it' anticipation as we were ushered into the sitting room. Nine of us sat down, eight women and one brave man.

Alice Munro's book is based on her own ancestors' emigration from Ettrick in the South-West of Scotland to Canada in the nineteenth century. It is a collection of stand-alone stories with this connecting theme and is written in such a way that many of us did not realise we were in fact reading short stories, the book read like a biography. It produced animated discussions on what constitutes a short story and its place in literature, the stoicism of early settlers and women in particular and the resilience of Scottish emigrants and what drove them to this life change. Many of our Readers had stories of their own family’s' genealogy and this produced interesting comparisons of life then and now and how they related to the book. We also discussed how true the stories were and how much the author had embellished them; she confesses to fictionalising many of the events and it was intriguing to talk about how much this is relevant. Ms Munro, who is the narrator of the stories, convinces you that it is a straight forward account of her young life only to slyly insinuate that it may only be based on fact.....much lively discussion followed.

At about one o'clock we paused for lunch but work did not end there, we were given homework to complete during lunch to stimulate discussion of the next book! Lunch, of course was delicious. We had all contributed to it and brought an array of vegetarian food which we demolished with glee. The sitting room was kept as a quiet room for those of us who wanted to read ready for the next session.

And so we came to Ali Smith's book. Anna kicked off by reading a story from the collection called The Start of Things. We had all read the story to ourselves but listening to it being read out loud gave a different perspective and this aspect was our first point of discussion. The story is about a domestic tiff that turned into a full blown row with one of the people being locked out of the house. Ms Smith brings us into the scene when there has obviously been much already said and the protagonists have been rowing for a while. We are given a snapshot of this couples' life together but nothing is explained and we are left with an inconclusive will she -won't she end. We discussed Ali Smith's use of language and meaning, what was actually implied in the story and then, of course, how we felt it related to our own lives. Anna was very good at keeping us from wandering away from the topics we were meant to be discussing, it was all too easy to go off at a tangent but Ms Dreda was a strict disciplinarian and soon brought us back on track. We compared the two writers and their approach to their craft. Ali Smith is Scottish and Alice Munro is of Scottish descent, they are both contemporary writers and both are adept at writing about the human condition. Very good choices which stimulated debate.
Tea was served in the kitchen as we decided what to read at the next Reading Day. The criterion was writers from the seventies and we chose The Colour Purple by Alice Walker and The Edible Woman by Margaret Atwood. I can't wait!

From Judith:
Nine of us assembled at Brook Cottage last Sunday, to “compare and contrast”, as they always say in A-level English essays, two books of short stories; "The View from Castle Rock” by Alice Munro, and “The Whole Story” by Ali Smith.

Of the two books, Alice Munro`s proved to be the less contentious; we had all enjoyed it very much, several of us failing to notice that it comprised short stories as such, so closely are they linked. The author makes it clear that they stand as discrete anecdotes. In the first section, her deceptively simple, lucid and beautiful prose leads the reader along the path of fiction, convinced that it is fact. There is of course a historical and biographical framework; Alice Munro attaches to that a succession of imagined “stories”, describing her own family`s history. The sense of the fragility of life pervades these stories; gravestones mark the end of lives of hardship and labour, in many cases, but also of bravery and determination. Fact and fiction are blended so well that we believe in these people and care about them too. In the second section, the author carries
the same themes forward, through her own childhood and right up to her real and present-day existence, telling her story in such a way that it is the people rather than the events that shine through.

Anna started the afternoon by reading aloud to us the last story in Ali Smith`s collection. These short stories are a very different matter, and for those of us (self included) who had found them difficult, this proved to be an enlightening experience. For these are stories whose language needs to be examined closely, and heard. As someone so accurately commented, reading them all at once in quick succession was like eating your way through a whole box of chocolates at one sitting.

Plots and story-lines, where the laws of the everyday world do not quite apply, can be hard to pin down. The author puts her characters in places where we fear for their safety in some hard-to-define way. We are often not really sure whether they are men or women, old or young, mad or sane. But throughout, there are the typical Ali Smith sparks of humour, love of word play, and the “real-life” references to film or TV which somehow anchor the story in reality.

The company was great, the food delicious, the discussions rewarding and we all left with heads full of things to ponder further; the proof, if proof were needed, of a very successful reading day. Thank you, Anna.

Reading for Pleasure 2007

2006-11-21T17:04:00.000Z

A very warm welcome to Reading for Pleasure at Wenlock Books.

We host several reading groups in the bookshop, two that meet monthly to read a wide range of contemporary and classic fashion; two that meet quarterly to read our way through the excellent Persephone Books catalogue, and two groups for children aged 8 - 12, that also meets monthly. Our meetings are all held on the first floor of the bookshop, at our famous round table, surrounded by ancient beams and (almost as) ancient books, as this is our second-hand (used) books floor. It is this area of the bookshop that holds the soul of our shop; do visit if you can, you'll see what I mean!

All of the reading groups are at full capacity, with no sign of numbers dropping: it is this that has inspired us to launch an on-line reading group, and this post will, in the early part of 2007, transform (thanks to Dawn) into our on-line reading group site. We are very excited!

We are hoping that this on-line group of dedicated readers will read alongside the readers in the bookshop, and contribute to our discussions as we work our way through the programme. All the books we are planning to read are listed below, so that you can pick the ones you'd like to read with us and get started!

If you would like me to email you as soon as the group is active, just drop a line to info@wenlockbooks.co.uk marking the subject box "On Line". Otherwise, just check the web-site or the blog at http://wenlockbooks.blogspot.com

Either way, we are looking forward to you becoming part of our reading community!

Reading Dates for 2007

January 17th: 2pm & 7pm

The Reader by Ali Smith

A fascinating selection of the prose, poetry, songs and articles that have informed Ali Smith’s reading and writing life, from childhood through to adulthood.

You’ll meet well-loved favourites, make the acquaintance of new writers, and be reminded of long forgotten ones. Just like browsing someone else's book case ….

We're looking forward to meeting Ali to talk about her writing on December 8th 2006.

February 7th 2pm and 28th 7pm

Sex Wars by Marge Piercy

Always a treat to have a new Marge Piercy, this is the story of the pioneers of women’s rights in the America of the 1860s and 70’s. I've been reading Marge Piercy since the 1970's and have been challenged, moved, inspired ... never disappointed!

March 14th: 2pm and 28th: 7pm

A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian by Marina Lewycka

I’m looking forward to reading this one, having heard so many different opinions about it! We are hoping to get Marina Lewycka to include Wenlock Books in her tour dates around now, as she promotes her new book.

April 25th 2pm and 7pm

Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

A quietly beautiful book, an old man looks back on his life and wonders what he will pass on to his very young son, and much-loved wife. We’ve waited a long time for this one! Marilynne Robinson's haunting Housekeeping is one of my top five books. I love the seriousness and poetry of her writing.

May 9th: 2pm and May 23rd: 7pm

Beloved by Toni Morrison

One of the great classics of black American literature, and indeed of great literature regardless of any kind of boundary limitations. This is a novel that makes you change the way you feel about your place in the world. A shocking, compelling and brilliant read.

June 6th: 2pm and 7pm

One Fine Day by Mollie Panter Downes

Re-reading The Wartime Stories of Mollie Panter-Downes published by Persephone, in our reading group last year, reminded me of this lovely, understated little book. A quiet day, nothing much happening, but oh, what lovely writing!

July 4th: 2pm and July 18th: 7pm

How I live Now by Meg Rosoff

Supposedly for teenagers, this won the Guardian Children’s Fiction Prize in 2004. A gripping narrative set in a future war, this is “all about love” to quote the author. I was spellbound, (and immediately moved it from children's to adults!)

September 12th: 2pm and 26th: 7pm

A Fortnight in September by RC Sherriff

Another Persphone book, this is a novel by the author of Journey’s End and the Hopkins Manuscript. It's about a family on holiday in Bognor in 1931; a quiet masterpiece.

October 10th: 2pm and 31st: 7pm

Maps for Lost Lovers by Aslam Nadeem

A family at the crossroads of culture, community, nationality and religion. Nadeem addresses their joy and pain in a language arrestingly poetic.

November 14th: 2pm and 28th: 7pm

Villette by Charlotte Bronte

A moving tale of repressed feelings and subjection borne with fortitude: the story of a woman's right to love and be loved.

We're looking forward to seeing how our adult selves respond to this book, compared to the way we read it when we were teenagers. Our re-readings of Jane Eyre and Daphne du Maurier found us with very different feelings towards certain characters.

December 12th: 2pm and 7pm

The Lost Art of Keeping Secrets by Eva Rice

Reminiscent of I Capture the Castle by Dodie Smith this is the engrossing story of Penny and her eccentric family in the post-WW2 1950’s just before the advent of rock and roll. A lovely, humorous and nostalgic read, I came upon it quite by chance when a damaged copy came in as a customer's special order. I don't usually choose pink covers, but this one was surprisingly charming.

Persephone Reading Group

January 24th 2pm and 7pm

Farewell Leicester Square by Betty Miller (no. 14)

Novel (by Jonathan Miller’s mother!) about a Jewish film director and the “discreet discrimination of the bourgeoisie” (Guardian). Preface: Jane Miller

April 18th 2pm and 7pm

Tell it to a Stranger by Elizabeth Berridge

1947: short stories which were twice in the Evening Standard best-seller list.; they are funny, observant and bleak. Preface: A N Wilson.

July 11th 2pm and 7pm

Saplings by Noel Streatfield

An adult novel by the well-known author of Ballet Shoes, about the destruction of a family during WWII; a Radio 4 10 part serial. Afterword; Jeremy Holmes. Havign just read Tennis Shoes in our children's reading group I am really looking forward to this one.

October 17th 2pm and 7pm

Marjory Fleming by Oriel Malet

A deeply empathetic novel about the real life of the Scottish child prodigy who lived from 1803—11.

Reading Days at Brook Cottage

The reading days are held on Sundays, from 10.30am – 4.30pm, starting with coffee and home-made biscuits, finishing with tea and scones, shared lunch in the middle and, oh! we’ll discuss some books too! There will be more dates in the autumn, to follow.

January 7th

We’re going to be looking at two short-story writers: Alice Munro and Ali Smith. The Alice Munro is one to put on your Christmas list (or order from the library!) as it is just out in hardback to tremendous reviews. It’s called The View from Castle Rock. Ali Smith’s is The Whole Story. I hope that Christmas will be a good time to dip into these short stories, and I look forward to discussing them with you.

April 15th

This time I am asking for suggestions, on the theme of books published in the 70’s. This was a very exciting period for contemporary writing, especially “for and by women” and I hope we’ll have a good trip down memory lane!

Please nominate your chosen book(s) prior to our meeting on January 7th.

June 3rd

To continue the theme, this time we will look at “books that changed our lives”. Don’t be proud about this one! If it changed your life we want to know about it!

Please nominate your chosen book(s) prior to our meeting on April 15th.

July 15th

Today we are going to look at Not the End of the World by Geraldine McCaughrean alongside Boating for Beginners by Jeanette Winterson. Background reading (for want of a better term!) is the wonderful Poisonwood Bible by Barbara Kingsolver.

And that's as far as we go for now! there will be other Reading for Pleasure events coming up throughout the year, so do keep an eye on the web site. If you haven't yet read Daniel Pennac's wonderful The Rights of the Reader (Walker Books £6.99) do get hold of it and read it as soon as you can. It will inform everything we do and everything you read!

Readers' Trip to Venice

2006-11-21T16:08:00.000Z

We are standing in a corner of the Campo San Stefano looking up at the Palazzo Barbaro. The building is tall and narrow. The worn flagstones beneath our feet are covered in a drift of red, pink and yellow leaves. Green grey water slaps gently against the prow of a gondola and an expensive motor launch moored in the side canal below us. The morning mist is slow to rise.

“Henry James was a real old gossip,” Anne is telling us. “He was obsessed with his bowels …”

And immediately Henry James springs to life, his shadow falling across the Campo as he walks plotting ‘The Aspern Papers’, the story inspired by a piece of gossip concerning an ex mistress of Lord Byron’s and some letters written by Shelley. Maybe he’d just been discussing this with his friends, the Curtis’s inside the Palazzo.

OUR GRAND LITERARY TOUR (October 24th - 28th, 2006)

Before we left England, Anna asked me if I’d do a write up of our time in Venice; a sort of ‘aide-mémoire’ as she put it. fortunately our two expert guide/companions, Michael and Anne, are doing a much more focused, academic account. Not only did their history lessons surpass anything taught at school, but their ability to evoke the spirits of dead writers and turn them into living, breathing acquaintances meant that we spent a few enchanted days in the presence of Robert Browning, Lord Byron, Casanova, and A.E. Housman. And Henry James - to name but a few. And when we turn the pages of the next ‘Donna Leon’ we’ll be able to visualise Guido Brunetti hurrying along the Calle della Madoneta then up the stairs to his apartment where Paola is preparing supper bought at the Rialto market. Just as if we re-read ‘Miss Garnet’ we can imagine her in the Dorsoduro, gazing from her small balcony towards the church of the Archangel Raphael, thinking about the wonderful panels there: or maybe just about Carlo.

Venice was a visual feast. The contributions to this account from members of our group make up a picture book - not a diary. I haven’t recorded the day or the time when I stood on the Accademia Bridge looking way down the curve of the Grand Canal and seeing a vast billow of rose-hued clouds set against the blue sky, like a painting by Canaletto. Without any reference to notes the time sequence collapses into this feast of colour and images. Of mist, then sunlight. Of coffee drunk mid-morning in the open air at different bars, the labyrinth of alley ways, canals, the crowded vaporetti, the secret gardens where you least expect them. And first and last, simply - the friendship that grew over the next few days.

Anna, Hilary, Michael and Anne had talked about a trip to Venice months ago, based on some of the literature that had grown out of that city. So with eternally grateful thanks to their idea, then all the careful detail and hard work that went into it, ten of us flew by EasyJet to Marco Polo airport, arriving in warm sunshine on a Tuesday afternoon. Barbara, Julie and Wendy stayed in the Hotel Alla Salute. Anna, Hilary, Dreda and Susan, Phoebe, Merle and I stayed at the Locanda Antica Venezia whose atmosphere went back down the centuries. We were about five minutes away from St. Mark’s Square and five minutes from the Teatro La Fenice.

Merle, Phoebe and I had our own ‘suite’ - four flights up - ; it felt like eight. My bedroom can be viewed on the internet. It had a vaulted ceiling cross-hatched with old beams. My double bed and another double bed in an alcove. It smacked of intrigue; of mystery. Casanova probably made love in that room, bitten by mosquitoes. Certainly, Guido Brunetti could have been summonsed up there to solve a murder. Each morning I saw the Campanile in St. Mark’s Square, leaning insistently through a grey mist, and when the mist cleared another world of sloping terracotta tiles, church and bell towers, roof gardens full of red geraniums, revealed itself.

The two hotels were separated by several vaporetti stops, or a walk over the Accademia Bridge reached by way of the labyrinthine alley ways and canals. After a day or two the geography fell into place. When Anne and Michael weren’t in the lead, Hilary was the expert. The Campo San Stefano was a central meeting point. There were landmarks directing the way back to the Locanda Antica. One was the shop where the beautiful dark, dark navy jacket with silvery geometric patterns beckoned from the window. It became known as Susan’s jacket. But she didn’t buy it! ; There were several nights when we’d cross the small bridge and see on our right above the water the casa with the big long window, the drapes inside pulled back to show the room dimly lit by a Murano glass chandelier. A soft glow filling the window. It would have been no surprise to see a masked figure appear there, then fade into the glow like a spectre from another century.

On our first morning we visited the imposing Ca’rezzonica, once the home of the poet Robert Browning who died there in 1889, and whose lines: ‘Open my heart and you will see/Graved upon it Italy’ are now fixed in my head forever.

We drank coffee in the Campo San Barnaba.
“That’s where Brunetti’s father-in-law lives,” somebody said, pointing out an apartment above the water, close by. Purple cyclamen and white petunias spilled from window boxes. In the Campo, Venetians were going about their daily business, newspapers tucked under an arm, or carrying shopping bags and bunches of fresh flowers home. The usual dogs greeted each another and were at once pulled away by their owners. A dog beneath one of the tables snarled at all of them.

We finish our coffee and move on at speed following each other down a maze of alley ways. Suddenly all the tourists have gone. I’m in a place where there are no full washing lines strung up high between opposite apartments. I’ve lost sight of our group and am aware of a subtle change in the atmosphere, a silence - as if something is about to happen. Then Donald Sutherland’s back disappears at the top of a flight of steps and into a building, in pursuit of a figure dressed in a red mac.
Venice does this to you!

Then we find ourselves within a stone’s throw of the Grand Canal in the Parish of San Samuele, birthplace of the illustrious Giacomo Casanova, near to Ca’Mocenigo, Byron’s home.

“When things got too hot for him in England, Byron legged it,” Anne tells us. “He had an affair with the local baker’s wife.” Among others, that is. We can imagine the dough rising, smell the yeast, see the Poet flicking a smidgeon of flour from the lady’s cheek, and wonder how he had the energy to swim the length of the Grand Canal, club foot and all …

Anne led us down the narrowest calle to a small jetty. The choppy waters of the Grand Canal were busy with packed vaporetti, freight barges and the gondolieri, some serenading their tourist fare, and across the water the Palazzo where Wagner composed Tristan and Isolde. The architecture on both sides of the Canal is simply breathtaking, diverse and splendid. We stood on the jetty, inches above the depth of the water.

“George Eliot stayed in a hotel with her partner just round that corner,” said Anne. “He jumped from a window into the canal … on their honeymoon …”
It was the way she told it!

“Venice is a dream,” writes Dreda. “Michael and Anne made you wake up to the hidden wonders of that dream …”

Their favourite restaurant, Ai’Cugnai was a dream. Family run, handsome grandsons front of house, mother, father, grandmother: great aunt - the one most in love with Michael - all looking after each other, and us. We had a fantastic meal there on our last evening. Lots of wine and Prosecco. And plenty of wine, Prosecco, and agua, at Osteira alla Bothegha, on our second evening. We weren’t driving, after all.

All this was in front of us when we sat eating pizzas at the Bar San Vidale on Tuesday night, our first night in Venice. I can almost see time running past as I write this and remember.

“Although I have enjoyed all aspects of the tour, my favourite bits have actually been when we’ve been sitting around sharing food and wine together as friends - that has been really special.”

Anna has written that. How true. Our meals together were memorable - at the Arteblu restaurant in the Campo San Stefano for the deliciously thin shavings of Parma ham, and the juicy mozzarella cheese covering the plate; so much you thought you’d never get through it, but it just melted away in the mouth. And memorable because we sat outside in hazy sunshine watching Venetian life in the Campo, seeing, as Susan has written, supreme elegance and tat side by side. Venetian ladies with fine thin noses and ankles walking their imperious dogs. The North African bag sellers ever mindful of the polizia. The very old and the very young with their Philipino minders. And of course the sloppily dressed tourists with their cameras.
Because we learnt so much outside the guide books, we were not ‘tourists’

Michael made Venetian history feel as if it had only just happened. Through him we felt the anguish of the heroic Manin when we stood by his statue in the Campo Manin. When we learnt about the plague victims we felt the strange atmosphere surrounding their burial ground - as if their souls hovered there, never to leave.

There’s just too much that is beautiful, or splendid, or awesome to record. The haunted palace so adored by Henry James, Ca’Dario - whether cursed or not, sailing past it on the vaporetto down the Grand Canal, seeing more opulence, more palazzos and knowing some of their history was a privilege.

“What news on the Rialto?” Antonio may well have asked. Now what would he make of the great surge of foreign tourists on that famous bridge? Paola Brunetti remarked on them. She blamed them for making her late cooking Guido’s supper.

The Rialto was bustling, thronging with people elbow to elbow, shoulder to shoulder, market stalls on both sides, leather, scarves, bags, lemons, pomegranates, toys, aubergines …

I bought a brown leather bag in two minutes and haven’t regretted it since.
Michael told us all about the Bridge of Sighs. Then a late lunch.

Old and new together. Phoebe writes that the second time she visited the Basilica, she joined ‘the thousands’ shuffling through. The first time she went, in the half light of the very early morning, St. Mark’s Square was almost empty. She entered through a side door and during the next half hour watched while tasks were performed by a few ‘solitary men’. Lights turned on, candles lit, the reading selected. Microphones tested. Then at eight o’clock the service began. Two priests with a congregation of two. Finally the numbers swelled to eight.

On Thursday the Chiesa San Vidal was packed. The Interpreti Veneziani were performing Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’, followed by Bach, then Mendelssohn. Wendy, Julie, Barbara, Phoebe, Merle and I sat in our seats waiting for the concert to begin. The man in front of me, next to Merle and Phoebe, was reading a book: one of Donna Leon’s. It seemed like the beginning of a movie. Finally, the ensemble, all wearing black, took their positions on the stage. Donna Leon presented the perfect opportunity to chat.

The gentleman and his wife were staying in an apartment near to St. Mark’s Square. He invited the six of us to go back with him and meet her after the concert. She had read nearly all Donna Leon’s books. He was working his way through them. But it was 10.30 p.m. We declined: for his wife’s sake as well as our own.
“Tell her to read ‘Miss Garnet’s Angel’,” we said, as we all parted in the Campo Stefano.

One of the attractions in the Campo and near to St. Mark’s was the man ‘playing’ the upturned wine glasses to an admiring crowd. ‘Autumn’ from Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons’ echoing Thursday night’s concert. Everything old linked to the new. Venice is timeless.

The sun didn’t shine at all on Friday, the day Anne took us to the Ghetto; the saddest part of that beautiful city, though a part nevertheless. Its awful history seemed to come out at us through its dark walls and really did catch us unprepared, for the depth of feeling it evoked. This was tempered by a lot of teenagers fooling around within its walls, and not giving a damn for their surroundings: its mood had escaped them. We looked at the Holocaust memorial, depicted by seven plaques set into a wall, and then we came away. The change in the atmosphere was palpable. In a sense I know we’ll never ‘come away’.

The atmosphere changed in Venice with every step we took. The shops were wonderful, their window displays like nowhere else I can remember. Hand made marbled paper, shining glass, every sort of cake from chocolate to pistachio, and rows of ornately decorated bottles of different liqueurs.

Then there was the shop with every colour of artist pigments laid out in trays in their window, their luminosity reflected in the City’s buildings and their beautiful marble and mosaic floors: ochre, sienna, Naples yellow, rose madder, gold.

There was every kind of colour on the canal boat vegetable stall in the Campo San Barnaba, from scarlet pimentos to bright green bunches of parsley. That was on our way to visit Miss Garnet in the Parish of the Archangel Raphael in the Dorsoduro.

We’d all read the book by Salley Vickers. This occasion was a treat for us all. Because of Julia Garnet the Church had an atmosphere all of its own which is impossible to describe. I felt as if I was seeing columns, marble, the wooden statue of the Angel with Tobias, through someone else’s eyes - Miss Garnet’s. On entering this Church, we were met by a ‘madman’, the Guardian, who did a lot of gesticulating whilst letting out streams of indecipherable Italian. Why? ; None of us knew. Even Anne was perplexed. However, he calmed down and we were able to steep ourselves in Julia Garnet’s world. Then afterwards (or was it before?) we tried to guess which one of the apartments by the Church was hers. On which balcony had she entertained Tobias and Sarah? We thought we could tell …

Still no sunshine, that Friday. In the afternoon we stood in the Piazza San Marco with Michael. He talked about A.E. Housman, about L.P. Hartley and their gondolier lovers. The four horses on the Loggia dei Cavalii on the Basilica looked across and over our heads. Above us soared the Campanile. In front, the oddly structured Doge’s Palace. And everywhere the pigeons. Tourists stood ankle deep in them, feeding them, being photographed; a bird on each hand and one on the head. Meanwhile tea was being served over at Florian’s. ; Everything was here. The Gothic, Baroque, Renaissance, Byzantine.

But what I hear when I remember that afternoon is Michael reciting a poem by A.E. Housman, which ends with the lines: ‘It shall not last for ever,/ No more than earth and skies;/But he that drinks in season/Shall live before he dies.’

At night the pigeons went home to roost, leaving the Piazza relatively deserted. I walked there one late evening. An orchestra played outside Quadri’s. Three or four couples danced together in perfect time to the music. They had the freedom of that whole square. Sometimes they would move out of the light, just becoming shadows.

That is one of the countless pictures I have. For Phoebe it might be her moments spent alone in the Basilica, or the purple bag she saw in a shop window on her first evening, then couldn’t find the calle where it was, the next day.

For Anna and Dreda, the splendid interior of La Fenice which they queued to see on Saturday morning, our last, and a glorious sunny day.

Susan will probably remember the cup of solid chocolate after an evening visit to San Marco. And the shop that reminded her of Miss Garnet buying a silk dress and underwear.

“Did I really see Whoopie Goldberg coming out from the Piazza San Marco?” Susan has written.

Well, probably, since everyone who is someone appears to have been to this City: it draws like a magnet.

Wendy will certainly remember her hotel proprietor whose jaw dropped open with alarm when she, Wendy, politely asked if she could have a cup of tea.

So many recollections from us all would need many more pages. I’ve left out too much. We’ll have to go again and catch up with Proust, Hemingway, Goethe and Thomas Mann. Not to mention the Old Masters, or all the lovely scarves we didn’t buy.

We left that enchanted city in the early afternoon of October 28th, in lovely weather. Our airport bound boat, loaded with similar passengers and their luggage swept us away from St. Mark’s basin, away from the sunlit sugar coated façade of the Doge’s palace and the serene view of the island of San Giorgio Maggiore, and thence to Marco Polo airport in one hour.

It’s difficult to know how to end because there is no end to Venice, so we’ll let Miss Garnet do it for us ‘when she sees for the first time the Santa Maria della Salute, the church which breasts the entrance to Venice’s Grand Canal’

‘ “Oh!” cried Miss Garnet. She caught at her throat and then at Harriet’s veil, scrabbling it back from her eyes to see more clearly. And oh, the light!
“Lord, Lord,” sighed Julia Garnet.’

Lysbeth Pead,
November 2006

If you would like to book for the 2007 Readers' trip to Venice with Wenlcok Books, please contact the bookshop for details. Phone is 01952 727877. Address is 12 High Street, Much Wenlock, Shropshire, TF13 6AA and email is info@wenlockbooks.co.uk Bookings need to be made by the end of January.

A readerly weekend; what bliss...

2006-11-21T14:50:00.000Z

Friday night was Venice and Salley Vickers; what a wonderful combination. Salley was charming, learned, erudite and gorgeous; I think most of us (regardless of gender) fell in love with her on the spot! The evening also served as a reunion for those of us who had been on the Readers' Trip to Venice (see earlier post), and although it had only been a couple of weeks since we returned from Venice, it really felt like a reunion of old friends.

Saturday was more local: we launched Di Bryan's new book "Ditton Prior's - a settlement of the Brown Clee". It was a fabulous launch, with non-stop tea and cake at our famous round table and queues to the door for most of the afternoon.

And Sunday? Well, on Sunday I recovered from all the hyper-activity of the previous two days by (of course!) settling down on the sofa with a book to read. And what a book it was ~ The Rights of the Reader by Daniel Pennac. At £6.99, published by Walker Books, I had picked it up in a vaguely interested way when one of my customers ordered it from me a week or two ago. Then in the mayhem of Saturday, I briefly picked it up at lunch time and was immediately hooked. For anyone to whom reading is important, this is a must read. Especially for parents, grand-parents, teachers, booksellers, librarians, teenagers, readers, ok! ok! you get the picture; everyone should read this book!

Its a book about the magic of reading, and especially the magic of being read to. It gets away from all the hype about books (books as conversation fillers at dinner parties, books as sacred cows, books as badges of intelligence and culture) and gets right into the idea of a book as er, something to read? Something that tells a story; a gateway that takes us to another world and in doing so brings us back to ourselves.

Beautifully translated from the French by Sarah Adams this book made me cry, made me smile, reminded me of books I had forgotten, reminded me why I am passionate about reading, and made me determined to tell everyone I know about it. Do not deny yourselves this treat: and when you've read it, pass it on.

Reading for Pleasure; reading list 2006

2006-09-30T08:48:00.000Z

Reading Dates for 2006

January 4th ~ 2pm & 7pm
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again”

Working as a lady's companion, the heroine of Rebecca learns her place. Life begins to look very bleak until, on a trip to the South of France, she meets Maxim de Winter, a handsome widower whose sudden proposal of marriage takes her by surprise.

Not since Jane Eyre has a heroine faced such difficulty with the Other Woman. An international bestseller that has never gone out of print, Rebecca is the haunting story of a young girl consumed by love and the struggle to find her identity.

February 1st ~ 2 & 7pm
Case Histories by Kate Atkinson

Kate Atkinson has put away the crockery, closed up the dishwasher and gone out of the kitchen door into the dark. Case Histories, her fourth novel since Behind the Scenes at the Museum, kicks off with a few unconnected vignettes: a three-year-old girl disappears one hot morning; a solicitor witnesses the violent death of his beloved daughter; a struggling mother loses her temper with her husband and reaches for the axe. That's three families shattered in the space of 50 pages - a sign that cosy domestic drama, of the sort that won the hearts of the judges who awarded Behind the Scenes the 1995 Whitbread prize, has been left behind.

March 1st ~ 2 & 7pm
The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini

War and the trauma of the Taliban have made Afghanistan an unlikely setting for literary fiction, and have given its writers little opportunity to be heard in the west. California-based Khaled Hosseini's first novel is an attempt to correct this, and to remind us of the anonymity it enjoyed before the Soviet invasion in 1979.

March 29th ~ 2 & 7pm
The Time Traveller’s Wife by Audrey Niffenegger

Rather like Alice Sebold's The Lovely Bones, in which a girl looks down from heaven after her death and even manages to intervene in the lives of those left behind, The Time Traveler's Wife sets up a very benign kind of magic.

Interestingly, Niffenegger uses time travel as a way of expressing the sense of slippage that you get in any relationship - that you could be living through a slightly different love story from the one your partner is experiencing. And she certainly weaves her plot well. This is one of those books that makes you want to eat it up from start to finish, eager to see how the twisted curves of time will be straightened out.

May 10th ~ 2 & 7pm
Vernon God Little DBC Pierre

Vernon God Little, a startling and excellent debut, is billed as a comedy: "A 21st-century comedy in the presence of death".

It is a treacherous book, always shifting under your feet. Like the best satires, it makes you feel faintly guilty for laughing, which intensifies the pleasure of reading. It also keeps you hooked: you can never quite be sure whether Vernon is lying to his readers as well as to the police, his mother and nearly everyone else he meets.

(We are reading this to compare it with We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver)

June 7th ~ 2 & 7pm
Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

Cloud Atlas is made up of half-a-dozen disparate but artfully interwoven narratives that propel the reader forwards through time and genre, from the distant nineteenth to the not-so-far-off twenty-second century, from giddy picaresque to cool thriller to chilling sci-fi.
Cloud Atlas meditates on belief and religion, on the curses of rampant science, big business and human insatiability; it questions how capable we are of changing the course of our own lives, let alone history or humankind's nature, and hints tantalisingly at notions of reincarnation. But it is time's progression - linear or otherwise - that truly captivates Mitchell and, in a gesture at once terrifying and comforting, he sets his most futuristic tranche in a world that is the most ancient.

July 5th ~ 2 & 7pm
Miss Ranskill Comes Home by Barbara Euphan Todd

A middle-aged woman goes on a cruise in 1939, is swept overboard and lives as a castaway on a desert island for three and a half years. But she is not alone, since she finds another castaway there. He has just died as the novel begins: the ‘carpenter’ is the only truly good, truly saintly person whom we are to encounter, apart from Miss Ranskill herself.
The object of Barbara Euphan Todd’s satire is the cruelty and egoism of people who have found an absorbing new interest during the war years but have lost their compassion for or even curiosity in others.
Published only a year after the end of the war, and deeply critical both of the people that Miss Ranskill encounters and of the peculiar rituals they have established, this cannot have been – and was not – a popular book in England at the time.

September 13th ~ 2 & 7pm
Madame Bovary by Gustav Flaubert

Writing about Emma Bovary, Flaubert brings to life a hopeless romantic who believes that true love should strike with the blinding intensity of a thunderbolt that "plunges the entire heart into an abyss."

The heedlessness, extravagance and audacity of Emma's rebellion shocked many readers when Madame Bovary was first published in 1856. Flaubert was even prosecuted by the government for the crime of having "outraged public morals and religion" (he was acquitted). It was Flaubert's subtlety and psychological insight that made the struggles of this woman in a dull country town and her tragedy so vivid and disturbing.

October 11th ~ 2 & 7pm
Saturday by Ian McEwan

McEwan's protagonist is neurosurgeon Henry Perowne, a man comfortably ensconced in an enviable upper middle class existence. His wife is a successful newspaper lawyer, his daughter Daisy a budding poet. But as he wakes one Saturday morning and witnesses a plane accident through his window, he is not yet aware that this is a harbinger of a sustained assault on all that he holds dear. It’s a McEwan trademark to begin his novels with a striking or violent rupture of everyday existence, but this opening is a prelude to his most impressively sustained narrative yet. It’s the publication day of Henry’s daughter's poetry collection, but a chance encounter with a drunken trio emerging from a lap-dancing club ends violently, even as a march against the war in Iraq streams past nearby. And this encounter with the menacing Baxter, main antagonist of the group, is to have fateful consequences. As Saturday progresses, Henry is forced to examine every aspect of his life and beliefs, not least his attitude to the war.

November 8th ~ 2 & 7pm
Carmen by Prosper Merimee

‘With the creation of Merimée’s “gypsy” heroine Carmen … the [French Romantic] movement’s founding values of spontaneity, originality and wilfulness found something approaching their ideal form.’ – TLS

A story about the dark forces that lurk beneath the façade of civilisation, where passions are brutal, and erotic love is seductive yet sinister.

December 6th ~ 2 & 7pm
Chronicles of Dartmoor by Anne Marsh Caldwell

The last novel of Anne Marsh Caldwell, "Chronicles of Dartmoor" tells the story of the inhabitants of Lawsleigh-on-the-Moor, a fictional Dartmoor village set deep in the moor and retaining the old customs, lore and laws nearly gone from the rest of the country. From the competition between worldly Susan Picard and naive but sweet Mary Cope to win the love of the handsome blacksmith, Isaac Watson, to the interfering machinations of the curate Mr. Gray and his attempts to bring 'order' to the village men who are overly fond of their cider, Chronicles introduces the reader to a host of captivating and charismatic characters, and provides a charming picture of the joys and heartaches of life in a simpler time.

Persephone Reading Group

February 8th ~ 2pm and February 22nd ~ 7pm
Good Evening Mrs Craven: The Wartime Stories of Mollie Panter- Downes

In her stories, Mollie Panter-Downes explores almost every aspect of English domestic life during the war: boredom, separation, sewing parties, fear, evacuees sent to the country and to America, obsession with food, the camaraderie of the blitz, above all the social revolution engendered by the war. In 'Year of Decision' (29 April 1944) the husband expostulates, 'For heaven's sake...It doesn't matter to me or Hitler whether I pick up my pyjamas off a chair or the floor' while his wife persists in her orderly smoothing of the eiderdown 'as though the action were yet another moral shot fired at the slowly advancing enemy.'
This theme of the English middle classes resisting the changes engendered by the war was one to which Mollie Panter-Downes would return in her greatest novel, One Fine Day (1947), and which her background as a social commentator - she wrote The New Yorker's famous 'Letter from London' throughout the war and for many years afterwards - equipped her to make very much her own.

April 5th 2pm and April 26th 7pm
Few Eggs and No Oranges by Vere Hodgson

Few Eggs and No Oranges is funny, observant and uncomplaining; above all it is a chronicle of the way in which an ordinary woman coped in very unordinary circumstances. As the original publisher wrote in 1976,
'Many exciting, frightening, marvellous stories have come out of the years of WWII demonstrating the courage and heroism of people in crises, but few recorded at the time, day by often unexciting day, the extraordinary resilience and determination, depression and humour, compassion and insight, and sheer slogging hard work under continual harassment of ordinary people throughout those five years.'
Just for fun, we will also look at the book of recipes, Good Things in England by Florence White at this meeting.

July 19th ~ 2 & 7pm
Julian Grenfell by Nicholas Mosley

This book was first published in 1976 and never republished since. Yet it is one of the outstanding biographies of our time.
Firstly, it is quite short and selective yet tells you everything you want to know. Secondly, it is about a young man killed in the First World War and asks the question, what was it about his upbringing that made Julian Grenfell welcome and even relish the war? Thirdly, it is a superb description of an appallingly smothering mother.

September 27th 7pm and October 4th 2pm
It’s Hard to be Hip Over Thirty by Judith Viorst AND Consequences by EM Delafield

Judith Viorst’s poems were originally published in America in 1968 and 1971, and in England in 1973; English readers first read them in Nova magazine. They are redolent of an entire era. Viorst's work is very American but no-one, of whatever age, sex or nationality, can avoid laughing at these 50 extraordinary poems, which are funny, pointed and painful.
In Consequences, the first part of the book describes Alex Clare, aged 12 when it begins in 1889, being groomed to become a society hostess or mistress of the manor. Her upbringing is, however, so authoritarian and so insensitive that she is gradually broken by it, her natural high spirits crushed by the way, time after time, she is made to feel gauche, inept and generally a failure. Eventually, when she is 21, she enters a convent, only to emerge ten years later into a world that has not yet changed enough for her to be able to find happiness. 'A scream of sheer horror against Victorianism' is the Preface's summing-up of Consequences.

Clare Morrall at Eden

2006-09-30T08:34:00.000Z

We had a fabulous evening at Eden (our nearby wonderful Italian cafe) with Clare Morrall. We had a full house, which was super for the first of these events, and the atmosphere was relaxed and welcoming, with Clare Wozniak (proprietor of Eden) and her husband, Richard, serving excellent wine, with olives and bread for a simple but sophisticated supper. We had representatives from several reading groups; our in-house Reading for Pleasure, of course, but also three from Ludlow's Modern Novel reading group, two from Clive (north of Shrewsbury) reading group, and a few from the local library reading group. Also, a few aspiring writers, and several customers and friends (even new ones!).

The format of the evening was that Clare read from her latest book, Natural Flights of the Human Mind, and then she and I were "In Conversation" for a while, followed by another reading, and then questions from the floor. Clare was an engaging and confident speaker, and kept us all amused and interested for a goood hour. She told us about being short-listed for the Booker in 2003 for her book Astonishing Splashes of Colour and how she had been in Devon when the news broke. Due to not being completely au fait with her mobile phone at that time, she missed an interview with The Times!

Clare chatted to pretty well everyone there, and happily signed books for another hour before heading back to Birmingham, leaving us all feeling that we had had a really excellent literary evening.

Huge thanks to Clare for travelling from Birmingham at the end of her working week, and to Jonathan Davidson of the West Midlands Readers Network for setting up the event.

Our next Literary Evening will be at Eden on Friday November 17th with Salley Vickers. As our reading group will have recently returned from Venice, there will be a strong Italian theme to the evening.

Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell

2006-09-14T16:47:00.000Z

CLOUD ATLAS: A DAY OF ILLUMINATION
by
Judy White

Scene: a comfortable house somewhere on Wenlock Edge, a cool August day, 2006

Characters: eight members of the Wednesday afternoon “Reading for Pleasure” group

Event: a day exploring aspects of David Mitchell’s “Cloud Atlas” helped by good food and drink, and various reference materials.

The group had decided in advance that each of the six sections or stories in “Cloud Atlas” would be read and analysed by a member of the group, as a way of trying to unravel and make sense of them. Each story is in two halves, and we spent the morning examining parts of Adam Ewing’s diary, Robert Frobisher’s letters and Timothy Cavendish’s ghastly ordeal. Lively conversation and discussion led us to agree that the common themes of these plots were exploitation, control, explorations of different power dynamics and slavery, and varying perceptions of freedom.

After a convivial lunch, we returned to our themes, this time working ourselves on different types of writing styles, echoing those used by David Mitchell. We each prepared a short piece in two halves, using six different styles, with the theme of pathways, in which we had to include the two words “missing button”. After an intense 15 minutes of thinking and scribbling, we emerged with some extremely amusing and intriguing story lines. This fun exercise impressed on us the enormity of the task accomplished by David Mitchell, who spent at least 3 years writing “Cloud Atlas”.

We spent the last part of the day connecting to the half lives of Luisa Rey, the interview with Somni, and last (or first…it is the pivot of the book!) the description of Sloosha’s crossing and everything after….Mitchell clearly had a lot of fun as well, weaving the common parts and overlapping threads (such as the Adam Ewing diaries, the Cloud Sextet; the comet birthmark) and using a different model or author’s style for each.

The day ended musing over how optimistic the book is. It finishes on a positive note: Adam Ewing’s’ father is concerned that only as Adam dies will he realise that his life “amounted to no more than one drop in a limitless ocean.” But as Adam says: “What is any ocean but a multitude of drops?” David Mitchell suggests that Cloud Atlas can be distinguished form his other books as it has “more of a conscience…I think this is because I am now a Dad. I need the world to last another century and a half, not just see me to happy old age…

And we only touched the surface!

Many thanks to everyone who took part, and to Judith Boot who welcomed us so smilingly to her home.

Clare Morrall at Eden

2006-09-07T14:15:00.000Z

Photograph by The Shropshire Star 7/9/06

Just a reminder that Clare Morrall is ocming to Much Wenlcok on Friday 22nd September; see post below.

Tickets selling fast!

Anna.

Reading for Pleasure at Wenlock Books: September

2006-09-02T14:43:00.000Z

September 8th and 15th: The Turbulent Term of Tyke Tyler by Gene Kemp (Children's groups)

September 13th 2pm and 7pm Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert

September 27th 7pm Consequences by E M Delafield (Persephone Group)

All of the above groups meet at the bookshop.

Reading for Pleasure

2006-09-02T14:35:00.000Z

Reading Days at Brook Cottage are to re-launch on 24th September with a day discussing Zadie Smith's Orange Prize-winning On Beauty. Also under discussion will be this year's Orange shortlist. The day will start at 11 with coffee and homemade biscuits. There will be a shared vegetarian lunch at one, followed by quiet time in the house or garden. The day will end at 4.30pm with a cream tea and homemade scones.

Cost: £15.00 Contact Wenlock Books 01952 727877 or info@wenlockbooks.co.uk

Literary evening with Clare Morrall

2006-09-02T14:25:00.000Z

On Friday 22nd September, Wenlock Books is hosting an evening with Clare Morrall.

The event will take place at Eden Cafe in Much Wenlock and tickets are £6.

Expect convivial chat and lots of book talk!

Please contact Wenlock Books for more details: 01952 727877 or info@wenlockbooks.co.uk

photograph (c) Sally Moore Design

Meeting Alan Bennett

2006-09-02T12:13:00.000Z

At the end of August I attended the launch of Faber's Independents' Alliance: a joining together of independent publishers and bookshops with the aim of promoting both. It was a fun evening (though very hot, as you can tell from the photo!) and I especially enjoyed meeting and chatting with Alan Bennett and Lynne Truss.

I was very happy to speak to the gathered bibliophiles, and chose to talk about a rather obscure but wonderful book, published by Faber, called Ashley's Book of Knots. This is a heavyweight tome, £50 worth of it, entirely dedicated to line drawings and descriptions of knots. In the last fifteen years or so, my predecessor, Perce Muscutt, and I have sold this book three times: not exactly a fast turn around, but no sooner is this book sold than we re-order it and get it straight back on the shelves. Why? Because we love it! Perce is a sailor, and hence a bit keen on knots, and I spent thirty years in the Guide movement and have huge nostalgia for all those wonderful knots we used to learn at camp.

So why, in this prestigious gathering, did I choose to talk about Ashley's Book of Knots? Because, for me, this book highlights what is so special and so very precious about independent bookselling. If we think a book is fabulous, or important, or worthy, or just plain good, we'll put it on our shelves. It doesn't matter that it's not celebrity driven; it doesn't matter that it's out of fashion, it doesn't even matter that it doesn't sell very often, because we choose what we want on the shelves around us, because the bookshop is our life, as well as our livelihood.

By the way, if this book sounds familiar to you but you're not quite sure why, Annie Proulx uses a different knot from it to start each chapter of her book, The Shipping News.

Lynne Truss, Anna Dreda and Alan Bennett.

Wenlock Readers Day

2006-07-08T08:58:00.000Z

Wenlock Readers’ Day

Come along on 23 July for a day of talks, discussions and conversation about books and reading. With guest writers Kate Pullinger, Mil Millington, Clare Brown and Jon Canter.

Sunday 23rd July 2006, 11am – 4pm at The Edge Arts Centre, William Brookes School, Farley Road, Much Wenlock, Shropshire

The Readers’ Day will be a chance to share your enthusiasm for books and reading with other readers and members of reading groups.
Doors will open at 10.30 am. and the Readers’ Day begins at 11am. During the day you will have opportunities to join informal discussion sessions with writers of your choice, buy copies of their books, and chat to other readers over a buffet lunch. The day closes at 4.00 pm.

Tickets: £10.00 / £8.00 concessions (including buffet lunch)

For a booking form or more information please contact:
Much Wenlock Library, The Corn Exchange, High Street, Much WenlockTel 01952 728 293, e-mail muchwenlock.library@shropshire-cc.gov.uk
Wenlock Books, 12 High Street, Much WenlockTel 01952 727 877, e-mail info@wenlockbooks.co.uk
Rawden Parslow, Shropshire LibrariesTel 01743 255 021, e-mail rawden.parslow@shropshire-cc.gov.uk
Please book by Friday 14th July 2006

Our guest writers:
Kate PullingerKate Pullinger was born in Canada and has lived in the UK since 1982. She is author of Tiny Lies, a collection of short stories, and the novels When the Monster Dies, The Last Time I saw Jane, Where Does Kissing End? and Weird Sister. Her lastest novel is A Little Stranger, a beautiful novel exploring the pressures that come to bear on the modern nuclear family. She has also written for radio, television and film and has been a writer in residence in an arts centre, a prison and a university. She lives in London.

Mil MillingtonMil Millington was named one of the Guardian's Top Five Debut Novelists of 2002 for Things My Girlfriend and I Have Argued About. He has since written two more novels - A Certain Chemistry and, most recently, Love and Other Near Death Experiences, both of which are absolutely lovely. He writes for various newspapers and magazines, is currently working on his fourth book plus a number of other things too excitingly secret to reveal, and he often appears on radio and television in some kind of shaming rent-a-gob capacity. He lives in the West Midlands.

Clare BrownClare Brown was born in Liverpool and moved to Sheffield at five years old. She worked in theatre administration and management for seven years, first at the Leicester Haymarket Theatre, and then in London for national touring companies The Sphinx and Paines Plough. She was Director of the Poetry Book Society 1996-2003 and co-edited Don't Ask Me What I Mean: Poets in Their Own Words, published by Picador in 2003. Her first novel, The Creation Myths, was published by Bloomsbury earlier this year and she is currently finishing work on her second book. She now lives in Nottingham.

Jon CanterJon Canter has been a scriptwriter for radio 4, and has written a huge amount for TV, including for The Two Ronnies, Not the Nine O Clock New, Rowan Atkinson, Smith and Jones and Fry and Laurie. He has had a long association with Lenny Henry, co-writing and going on the road for stand up tours. Seeds of Greatness is his first novel. It explores friendship, ambition, the nature of celebrity and writing and has been described as pin-sharp satire and a warm domestic comedy. He lives in Suffolk.

2006-06-30T12:15:00.000Z

Books Are Us: Holes
Harriet Dennys
The Bookseller Magazine 30.06.06

All the children in the Books Are Us reading group said that Holes by Louis Sachar was a book that they wouldn't have picked up, but when they did, they couldn't put it down.

Holes ultimately proved a hit thanks to its "exciting writing", uplifting ending and atmosphere of adventure; this was enough to overcome the children's initial prejudices against the book's "completely uninteresting title" and unappealing cover design. Anna Dreda, who runs the group in Wenlock Books, Shropshire, says: "Many of the children said that they took a while to get into the book, but once they did, they couldn't stop."

Books Are Us enjoyed the fact that Holes--the tale of an unlucky, home-loving boy who gets sent away to the Camp Green Lake correctional centre in the Texan desert when he is wrongly accused of stealing a pair of trainers--is a story about young people. The humour of the book went down extremely well, as did its narrative structure, which weaves tall tales from local history and main character Stanley's family into the central plot-line.

"The flashbacks were a good idea," says Will McCartney, aged nine, on the historical sections of the book, which include the adventures of "Kissing Kate Barlow" and the story of Stanley's pig-stealing great-grandfather. Dreda comments: "The flashbacks build tension and satisfaction in the narrative. The end of the book has delightful twists that marry the historical and the contemporary family in a magical and pragmatic way."

The main theme of the group's discussion was racism: sub-plots such as Middle America's intolerance of the mixed-race relationship between Kate Barlow and Sam, a young black boy, were the first time that some of the children had read about racial discrimination. The treatment of the black characters in the book shocked: McCartney says of the "not right" hostility displayed towards Zero and Sam that he "didn't agree with [it] at all".

The group also talked about what it meant to be a hero: how ordinary children can achieve heroic actions, and the distinction between a superhero and an ordinary hero. Sachar's well-drawn descriptions of the heat and dust of the desert were another talking point: the children were "spell-bound" by the boys' adventure on God's Thumb mountain and by the descriptions of travelling with insufficient food and water.

McCartney's favourite part of the award-winning book--his second-favourite book, after Hitler's Canary--was when the boys unearthed the treasure, only to find it covered in yellow-spotted lizards. He also enjoyed the scene in which Zero hit Mr Pendanski over the head with a shovel. For Lydia Torr, also aged nine, the highlight was the plot twist that the treasure of the letters proved to be more valuable than the diamonds. She says: "Holes is a really exciting book, full of adventure and descriptive words."

The proud winner back at the bookshop!

2006-06-21T16:04:00.000Z

Bill McCreadie, Aurum Press Anna Dreda, Wenlock Books Amanda Ross, Producer, Richard and Judy Bookclub

On May 9th 2006, Wenlock Books won the Aurum Press Independent Bookseller of the Year Award, presented by Amanda Ross at the Gala Dinner which drew the Booksellers' Association Annual Conference to an end.

This was such a proud moment for me, and wonderful validation of everything I had been working towards here in my bookshop over the last two and a half years.

I couldn't wait to get back to the bookshop and share the elation with my staff, customers and friends, and also my reading group, who were meeting that afternoon.