Friday, 6 December 2019

Review by Jeannette Flannery of “The Last of Us” by Harriet Cummings.









The Last of Us tells the story of 82-year-old Nettie, a lonely widow whose memory is not as vivid as it once was. Ostracised by her neighbours, taunted by local children and estranged from her only daughter Catherine, Nettie enters the story as a sympathetic figure.

But when young handyman James arrives in the village Nettie is thrilled to discover he is an old friend of her daughter and the two of them quickly build an unlikely friendship. As James begins to question Nettie about her past, Nettie begins to remember treasured memories of her husband Harold, as well as memories she’d rather forget. James, much like the reader begins to wonder if Nettie is really a harmless old lady or if there could be truth in the rumours circulating about her around the village.

Harriet Cummings is an accomplished writer of the domestic mystery novel. Here, as in her first novel, We All Begin as Strangers, secrets simmer under the surface of an idyllic village. The reader experiences Nettie’s nostalgic memories for themselves in the tiny details; the music and miniskirts of the swinging sixties; Harold’s garish red Ford Cortina of the seventies. 

The sights and sounds as we travel with Nettie through scenes of her past are vivid but as the reader learns more about Nettie, we too begin to question her version of events. What really happened to Harold? Why doesn’t her own daughter want to talk to her? How much of what she remembers is the truth?

The Last of Us is a heartfelt exploration of loneliness, ageing and complicated family relationships: a slow burning novel where tension builds to a final devastating climax. I found the character of Nettie stayed with me long after I had turned the final page.


About the Reviewer: Jeanette Flannery is a writer of fiction for young adults. She loves all things Japanese and lives in the midlands with her partner and a pair of mischievous kittens.

Wednesday, 4 December 2019

Review by Colin Gardiner of “Pattern Recognition” by William Gibson






Cayce Pollard is a young American woman with a ‘sensitivity’ to corporate branding symbols. Cayce makes a living advising clients on the viability of their product. She has been hired by an eccentric, rich client to investigate the origins of a mysterious film clip that has appeared on the internet.

Gibson deftly draws the reader into a post-11 September world of espionage and intrigue.

The novel has a melancholic feel, suited to the geo-political tensions of the era.
His characters are sharply defined, in particular the protagonist, Cayce, who forms a sympathetic but sharp-eyed lead.

Gibson has a talent for describing the cultural undercurrents of the city. London, in particular comes across as a potentially lonely, but vibrant place, filled with possibility.

The novel works, both as a compelling thriller and as a curious historical time-capsule, written just before the social media boom of the mid 2000’s. Recommended for readers of science fiction, and techno-thrillers.

About the Reviewer 
Colin Gardiner lives in Coventry. He writes short stories and poems and has been published by The Ekphrastic Review, Ink Pantry, The Midnight Street Press and The Creative Writing at Leicester blog. He is currently studying a Masters in Creative Writing at Leicester University. More of his work can be read here



Tuesday, 3 December 2019

Review by Kathy Hoyle of “The Glass Woman” by Caroline Lea



        
The Glass Woman is a stunning debut from Caroline Lea, taut and atmospheric from the very first page. 

Set against the unforgiving claustrophobic landscape of an Icelandic winter, the reader cannot help but be pulled into this dark and isolated world of secrets and superstition. 
The year is 1686. In the remote Icelandic village of Stykkishólmur, the ice cracks, and a body is pulled from the water. The villagers have their suspicions, there is talk of murder, witchcraft and punishment … and newcomer Rosa is determined to find the truth. 

Rosa’s heart belongs to Páll, but when Jón Eriksson passes through their village and asks for her hand, she cannot refuse. A girl must be dutiful and pious and Jón is not the sort of man to take no for an answer. Desperate to help her ailing mother and knowing that Jón will provide for them both through the harsh Icelandic winter, Rosa agrees.

Rosa is afraid. The women of Stykkishólmur refuse to talk, save for whispers of Jón’s first wife, Anna and her mysterious death. Rosa must stay in the house, forbidden by Jon to be anything other than his dutiful wife, trapped and afraid. Then there is Petur, Jon’s strange but trusted friend, who seems intent on catching her out. Rosa must find answers. 
What are the noises she hears in the attic above? Why do the villagers fear Jon so? And what happened to Anna, his first wife?

In this tense and powerful story, Lea weaves a brilliant tale of mystery, witchcraft secrets and lies. This debut novel is rich, dark and poetic, with twists and turns that keep the reader guessing all the way to the end.  


About the reviewer:  Kathy Hoyle is an MA graduate of Creative Writing from the University of Leicester. Her Flash fiction and short stories have appeared in various Online Zines. She has been shortlisted for The Exeter Short Story Award, The Fish Publishing Short Memoir prize and the Ellipsiszine Flash Fiction Collection Competition. She will write for chocolate. 

Saturday, 30 November 2019

Review by Jonathan Taylor of "Walking the Coventry Ring Road with Lady Godiva" by Cathy Galvin



Famously, in Dante’s Inferno, the poet follows Virgil down through the circles of hell, meeting the famous dead en route. In Cathy Galvin’s new and compelling pamphlet, Walking the Coventry Ring Road with Lady Godiva, the narrator follows Godiva (‘Godgifu’) round the circles of Coventry ring road, ‘following a road, a river, a prayer.’ 

This is not really an inferno – the narrator remarks at one point ‘there are no circles of hell, just this road’ – but rather a kind of limbo, a ‘circling sandstone,’ which, at least in these poems, delineates a circular history, as much as it does a city’s geography. Like W. G. Sebald’s The Rings of Saturn, Galvin’s beautiful pamphlet is a walk through a circular, eternally-recurring history of destruction – from the city’s bombing in the Second World War, to the ruinous rebuilding of the city in the 1950s and 60s, to the poverty and job losses of the 80s, captured by the Specials in their well-known song about Coventry, ‘Ghost Town,’ and ultimately to post-industrial decay:

          Just watch me walk beside the demolition
          of buildings that once rose to post-war visions,
          the planners pleased the bombs sanctioned their plans …

          [then] more bombs. More cries of Liberty. Unions,
          monasteries, militants, all have their day;
          Carmelites and car factories the same. 

For the poet, these wider histories of destruction and rebuilding are intertwined with her own personal history: she notes that ‘the ring road … was built the year I was born,’ and her parents, who came to Coventry to work in the car factories, are buried in a cemetery close by one of the ring road’s flyovers. ‘Words wait in my flow to return,’ declares the poet, and the poems themselves are a kind of ring road, marking a circular return to home and the poet’s past. Ring road is history, geography, poem – and even human body: just as the ring road seems to contain the city’s past, so ‘the dead walk within our hearts’: ‘I stroll my body back to what holds within / its light, its stone, its bare bones.’ 

This is a past that does not vanish, but persists like light, held in the body, in stone, in the road, in Galvin’s haunted poetry; the dead may be dead, but they also ‘walk within our hearts.’ This a cyclical history that is not just a matter of circles of hell or destruction, but one which also involves persistence, renewal, possibility. The River Sherbourne becomes a potent symbol of this more optimistic element: routed under the ring road, it eventually returns to the surface to join the Sowe and Avon. ‘Culverted under ring road,’ Galvin writes, ‘the river sinks beneath the streets / holds its breath,’ but ‘Sherbourne will not die’:

             The light will come – 
           this stream re-emerge; tunnels crack, 
           supporting towers collapse …
     – all must repeat – in rubble, nettle, willow, fern. 


About the reviewer
Jonathan Taylor is an author, editor, critic and lecturer. His books include the novels Melissa (Salt, 2015) and Entertaining Strangers (Salt, 2012) and the poetry collection Cassandra Complex (Shoestring, 2018). He directs the MA in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester. His website is www.jonathanptaylor.co.uk

Friday, 29 November 2019

Review by Jonathan Taylor of "The English Disease" by Lydia Towsey



As with her previous poetry collection, Lydia Towsey’s second book, The English Disease, is full of poems which are musical, lyrical, performative, but which also jump off the page into the ears and mouth of the reader: poems, that is, which work equally out loud or ‘in-loud’ – heard via silently-moving lips in the mind’s-ear of the reader. 

In these poems, the reader hears of modern England’s diseases and their symptoms – as well as possible cures, some which help, some of which make them worse: ‘There must be a shot. / There must be a cure // for the English disease, the English disease.’ Towsey asks diseased England to ‘write back’ to her, so she, like a poet-doctor, can diagnose what is wrong – and what might be right, too. Among the militant nationalists, the ‘men in monocles abusing privilege,’ the ‘treatments / elections and referendums,’ the war-mongering, the failed primeministers, the arms sales, the xenophobia, she traces a counter-narrative, a counter-culture, a half-obscured English tradition of resistance, hospitality, rebellion, subversive humour, courtesy, a ‘decency of queues.’ This is a crypto-Socialist England, not unlike that imagined by George Orwell in his great essay The Lion and the Unicorn, which needs to ‘remember the speeches’:

          We shall welcome them on the beaches. 
          We shall welcome them on landing grounds. 
          We shall welcome them in the felds and in the streets. 
          We shall welcome in the hills. 

          I remember Monty Python, 
          I remember Bowie, 
          I remember Boudicca, 
          I remember Bevan.

Politics, though, is not all speeches and heroes, not all Boudiccas and Bevans and Guy Fawkeses. It does not only happen on a national scale. It is also a uniquely personal force, as universal as gravity, which operates between people in queues, friends sharing cups of tea. And Towsey’s poetry beautifully captures moments of connection between the political and the personal, the macrocosmic and microcosmic. It stands with Jung, when he declares that ‘the psychology of the individual is reflected in the psychology of the nation.’ In Towsey’s poetry, family history, parenthood, eating disorders, tea drinking, queuing, politeness and its opposite all reflect the psychology of contemporary England – a psychology which intermingles all these things with a traumatic history ‘built on broken bones / returning boats to burning homes.’ 

Still, if this national history is reflected in individual actions and, indeed, individual poems, it can also be distorted, refracted, resisted – through utopian moments of friendship, through twisted nursery rhymes, reconceived myths, and a new language that Towsey calls ‘Zomblish.’ Towsey’s are visionary poems which reflect national psychological states, and then go on to shatter them, in order to piece together new, better ones – of ‘Donald Trump saying sorry. / Fiscal reform to favour the many. / My daughter sleeping through the night.’ A better England – a better world – is possible, and Towsey’s poems hold out that hope: 

          Build me a picket fence, 
          form me a queue. 

          Shall we sit for days on end 
          and talk as weather beats on tents?

          The light that sets on the British Empire 
          points from yesterday to a new tomorrow. 
          This land might grow a new beginning. 

          This generation must find a way. 
          There must be a salve.


About the reviewer
Jonathan Taylor is an author, editor, critic and lecturer. His books include the novel Melissa (Salt, 2015), the poetry collection Cassandra Complex (Shoestring, 2018), and the memoir Take Me Home (Granta, 2007). He directs the MA in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester. His website is www.jonathanptaylor.co.uk

Saturday, 23 November 2019

Review by Bobba Cass of Author Event with Carol Leeming MBE FRSA at Everybody's Reading Festival 2019




This evening of the festival celebrated the writing of one of Leicester's outstanding poets.  Carol Leeming read from her contributions to collections about Leicester, Welcome to Leicester and An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Leicester, and from her own publications, The Declamations of Cool Eye and the forthcoming, The Eclipse of Dread. The poetry moved from place to person to politics, giving the audience an integration of intensity and vision.

And it was an audience to honour our city - diverse in ethnicity, gender and age with a particular De Montfort University following from the Confucius Institute. Perhaps outstanding was the selection from Love the Life You Live, Live the Life You Love, the second of what will be a choreopoem trilogy. Here Leeming's rootedness in Leicester enables a monologue sustained in dialect and rude in reflection.

And the audience went away wanting more. The Eclipse of Dread promises to be an excoriation of Thatcher's Britain with scrutinies most apposite for our times.


About the reviewer
Bobba Cass is a grey poet and gay grandad who organises a monthly open-mic poetry event, Pinggg...K!, and writes children's fables for Creatures Creatives Collective.

Monday, 11 November 2019

Review by Lee Wright of "An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Leicester" ed. Jon Wilkins



In 1975 the French novelist and filmmaker Georges Perec spent three days recording the everyday events he witnessed through different café windows in the Saint-Sulpice Square.  The result of this became the much-loved An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris, a short collection of observations that has since been held up as an example of good writing. It is an eerie, fascinating read, turning the somewhat innocent act of people watching into something more surreal and sinister. The short book takes the reader on a journey of secrecy, privacy and voyeurism. So much so, that Perec’s piece deserves to be on the bookshelf next to the best collections of Raymond Carver, who in turn was fascinated by and wrote about similar subjects.  

Inspired by Perec’s work, writer Jon Wilkins has published and contributed to his own attempt at exhausting a place. His new anthology An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Leicester brings together seventy-three separate pieces comprising stories, poetry and monologues by a whole host of writers in an attempt to wring out everything that makes up the city of Leicester. And there is some rich material to exploit. Authors such as Colin Wilson, Sue Townsend, Joe Orton and Julian Barnes were all born of the city. In recent times there has been the exhumation and reburial of Richard III and of course Leicester City’s Premier league win of 2016. But it is the little things written about the city that hold the most pleasure. Poet and musician Lauren M Foster’s poem, 'Bus Stop, Woodhouse Eaves,' opens with the lines:

It’s late.
I wait
some more.

And goes on to describe two separate conversations which end with the poet graffitiing the bus stop timetable whilst waiting for the bus that never arrives. This short poem best captures the inconsequential moments that Perec was striving for when he wrote his Paris project. So too does Lisa Williams’s flash fiction piece, 'Community,' which captures a ripple-effect moment in Victoria Park that is as beautiful as it is satirical. There are also reminisces of being bought apples from Leicester market and political poems of belonging. But the best parts of this anthology are the ones which read like a water-damaged love letter to the small moments as they happen in the city - which Perec’s An Attempt at Exhausting a Place in Paris was all about. 


About the reviewer
Lee Wright was born in Nuneaton, Warwickshire in 1980 and has been writing both fiction and non-fiction since 2008. He has just completed an MA in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester.
            

Tuesday, 29 October 2019

Review by Jayne Stanton of "The Anatomical Venus" by Helen Ivory



The Anatomical Venus is an eighteenth century waxwork model – life-sized, anatomically correct, ‘breathing’ and dissectible – of an idealised female form. With human hair, string of pearls and posed, she is morbid and macabre; her seven layers of body parts open secrets to the men who once handled and studied her.  

‘The Little Venus’ is ‘presented voluptuously’; she is beautiful even in death:

          Yet how charming the rope of pearls at the throat –
          the throat itself a repository for kisses.

The voice in the poem is distasteful; it is that of a tout encouraging ‘gentlemen’ to examine the exhibit, hands-on. 

Six years after her previous collection, Waiting for Bluebeard, which chronicles the stages of a woman’s disappearing, Ivory’s latest collection seems a natural progression. The Anatomical Venus explores how women have been (and still are) portrayed (and treated) as ‘other.’ The reader encounters witches, hysterics, psychotics, asylum inmates, objects of curiosity, corpses and AI dolls. 

These women are portrayed through the eyes and voices of men: the witch-finders, physicians, employers, and husbands. They are rarely named. Instead they are known only as the wives or daughters of working men (Labourer’s/Boatman’s/Farmer’s wife), or by their own occupations – shockingly so in ‘Female Casebook 6,’ a list poem of asylum inmates’ occupations or status, ending:

          Wife of Boatman
          Housemaid
          Prostitute
          None 

This anonymity is, in itself, a kind of disappearing.

The ‘Wunderkammer’ poems in the collection portray women as objects of curiosity. They, like the waxwork Venus, and Read Doll X in ‘Pygmalion,’ are perfectly posed. Like the corseted wife in ‘The Fainting Room,’ and the hysterical and psychotic housewives of other poems, they are confined, contained. 

That is not to say that the women in these pages are not given a voice. ‘Hellish Nell’ puts forward her own case as a medium for the ‘ectoplasm’ of grieving mothers’ sons. A woman hanged for witchcraft questions the cleric responsible for Malleus Maleficarum. The wife of an unfaithful husband in ‘Stripped’ vows she’ll tear out a rib and return it, owing him nothing. ‘Anger in Ladies &c’ harnesses the power of women’s anger in a rant against the James Dunton, author of The Ladies Dictionary (1684):

          Now they will lecture you
          on how to wear your hair, Mr Dunton –
          how to cover your shame. 
          They are sharpening their bread knives.

The call to arms of this, the penultimate poem in the collection, is akin to that of the title poem of Tishani Doshi’s Girls are Coming Out Of the Woods (2017). 

Women as vessels is an overarching theme in the collection. The ‘she’ in the closing poem ‘wakes inside her body.’ Unlike Real Doll X, she arranges her own limbs and, free at last, ‘she leaves her body / at the mouth of the door.’ 


About the reviewer
Jayne Stanton’s poems have appeared in numerous print and online magazines, and anthologies. She has written commissions for a county museum, the Centre for New Writing, University of Leicester's Poems for International Women’s Day 2018, and a city residency. A pamphlet, Beyond the Tune, is published by Soundswrite Press (2014).  

Wednesday, 23 October 2019

Review by Victoria Pickup of "Rough Waking: For Those Confined and Homeless (Including You)" by Julian Daizan Skinner, Lazlo Mihaly, Kazuaki Okazaki



Rough Waking is a collaborative collection of poetry, photography and artwork on the themes of homelessness, incarceration and a quest for spiritual enlightenment through the study and practice of "Zen life." Presenting the accounts of three very different men, each having undertaken a unique and personal journey, this book reflects upon the idea that we are all, in our own way, both confined and homeless. Each story portrays a pathway to self-discovery through some of the darkest, most difficult times a human could experience.

The first part of Rough Waking shows the photography of Laszlo Mihaly (Lazz), including his prize-winning picture of a homeless man meditating on the street. His images are rough, stark and sobering, and rightly placed first in the book alongside Lazz’s frank thoughts about his experience of being homeless:

           I felt I wasn’t a man any more.
           I was in pieces.  At that point, you
           Stop being a man or woman.
           You’re just wreckage.

We next come to the poetry of Julian Daizan Skinner, the first Englishman to become a Zen master in the Rinzai tradition, who spent many years in a monastery before undertaking a period of "Zen homelessness." Having founded London-based Zenways, Skinner now works with St Giles’ Trust, providing support in prisons and to the homeless.

His collection, "Autumn in the Monastery and Other Poems" is a deeply personal account of his own spiritual journey and features many beautiful moments. The imagery is striking, there is a sharpness to Skinner’s focus and a lucidity in his words, perhaps owing to his mind being cleared of distraction whilst living in monastic confinement at the time of writing.

From "My Father’s Hands" ("My father had hands of power, / lightening and thunder lived there … When we walked, his hand swallowed mine / in its hard, dry mouth") to "Nigredo," when he focuses upon how the world’s violence breaks an individual down, which only pushes them further to freedom - the ultimate idea behind achieving Zen - Skinner’s observations are often simple and powerful, such as his description of "The Maintenance Monk":

            He’d much rather
            be fixing the wheelbarrow …
            than stand talking to you,
            all knobbly fingers
            and awkward pauses.

 There’s hope and light in his words, such as in "A Meditator’s Forecast" where the poem culminates in "hundreds of rainbows." One of the final poems in this collection, "Freedom Song," reinforces the positivity with strong imagery:

            This tongue can’t justify the prison
            when the jailer’s asleep and the door swung open.
            It’s time to tumble in the shining ocean,
            To loose my heart like a balloon in a storm,
            Let the hammering blood play freedom songs.

The final section of the book features beautiful ink drawings by Kazuaki Okazaki, a former member of the "murderous" cult Aum Shinrikyo, who released sarin gas onto the Tokyo subway in 1995. Following many years of guidance by Zen master Shinzan Miyamae, Okazaki repented of his past and spent many years attempting to atone for his crimes, which include the horrific home invasion and brutal killings of an anti-cult lawyer, his wife and baby son.

Okazaki was himself executed last summer but we are told he was "delighted" to know that his artworks would help other prisoners. Undoubtedly, his sequence of ink drawings entitled "Unsui’s Journey" is of the highest standard: thoughtful, contemplative and beautiful. Having lived up to the Zen saying: "The lotus blooms in the middle of the fire," how one begins to find harmony in such traumatic circumstances is beyond comprehension, but there is much to be gained in studying these pictures to gain an insight into the artist’s quest for peace. 

Rough Waking is an original combination of artworks, combining seemingly disparate accounts, but coming together in a creative and unique collaboration which explores humanity and delivers an interesting and hopeful message from which we can all learn.


About the reviewer
Victoria Pickup studied a BA in English and MA in Creative Writing at Loughborough University. A freelance writer for seven years, she continued to write creatively and in 2008 won the Café Writer’s Award with a poem inspired by travels in Bosnia: "The Chicken that Saved my Children." She was shortlisted for the Poetic Republic (MAG) poetry award in 2009 & 2010. Victoria now lives in Hampshire with her husband, three children and, of course, a pet chicken.