Review by Jonathan Taylor of "Degrees of Twilight" by Maggie Butt

According to Shelley, "poetry ... may be considered as the bridge thrown over the stream of time" - and there is certainly something peculiar to poetry about its relationship to time, something which marks poetry out - which, maybe, is part of its essence. Whereas painting and sculpture are naturally static forms, with no obvious fourth dimensions (though, of course, there are ways in which that stasis is subverted or complicated); whereas prose narrative fiction, at least in English, is naturally a linear form (in that it's read in a linear way, and set out as such, even when linearity is brought into question); and whereas music is necessarily experienced in a linear, almost narrative way; poetry is different. Often read in a non-linear way (you read a poem, then perhaps re-read it, and your eye does not necessarily move smoothly across the page, left to right), poetry is perhaps the most successful art form at capturing the complexity of time, at throwing a "bridge ... over the stream of time." Clearly, narrative prose fiction does have a fourth dimension - but, as I say, that time element assumes, more often than not, a basic linear, chronological mode, even where that linearity is disrupted.

Poetry can do something different: poetry, as Maggie Butt realises in her brilliant new collection, Degrees of Twilight (London Magazine, 2015), can simultaneously hold in its hand the present, past and future. In Butt's poetry, the reader can "listen to the future: rain-rocked, lake-like" precisely because "nothing divides the waters from the waters" - past, present, future waters all intermingle in her poems. Butt's poetry hears voices "calling down the years" from the past, watches as the present "all goes on," and foresees "futures latent as a roll of undeveloped film."

There are poems here which, to use her own words, are "forward-facing" and ones which are "backward-facing," watching the "open country of the past / spread itself far as the eye can see." And there are a lot of poems which are both: in the remarkble poem "Time Travellers," for example, "time zig-zags like a running man avoiding bullets," encompassing, as it does, scenes from a whole personal history; in "New Mothers," the mothers cry not just for present pain, but also for future "falls we can't womb you against: / the bully teachers, failures, phone calls in the night / beyond our arms," for which the mothers "paid up-front in tears"; in "Variance Analysis," a dull meeting "in a windowless room" is happening simultaneously "while the first day of spring unfurls outside; / and you are motorbiking scented country lanes / absorbing this year's deficit."

This is the poetry of simultaneity, of synchronicity, as multiple pasts, presents and futures co-exist in the same poems, sometimes even same lines. In the final poem, "Wish," the narrator poignantly attempts to reach towards a kind of Shelleyean timelessness, whereby, as Shelley himself puts it, "time and place and number are not." Here, future, past and present - the "years scampering by"- all finally seem to dissolve in the face of the narrator's wishes: "let there ever be you / let there ever be you."

About the reviewer
Jonathan Taylor is an author, lecturer, editor and critic. His books include the novels Melissa (Salt, 2015), and Entertaining Strangers (Salt, 2012), and the poetry collection Musicolepsy (Shoestring, 2013). His website is www.jonathanptaylor.co.uk.

Review by Dips Patel of "Dead Leader" by Jang Jin-Sung, and "Nothing to Envy" by Barbard Demick

And I’ve just finished reading Dear Leader by Jang Jin-Sung, which is a memoir/autobiography of a guy who escaped out of North Korea (and escape is the right word, though fleeing for his life is more apt). He was a poet/writer/musician who somehow got himself into the inner-most circle of Kim Jong-il (this circle is referred to as "the Admitted," which tells you something about the cult of Kim) and right when he was riding that popularity wave at its highest, one careless slip, one "unthinking" moment meant his life was up for grabs and escaping to South Korea (via China) was the only option.

It is an immensely affecting insight into one of the most secretive, insular countries in the world and a disturbingly intimate look into Kim Jong-il’s reign and also reveals the history of the country post WWII, the split with the South, and how the North Korea of today came into being seen not from an outsider’s perspective, but a man who had access to government documents and workings.

 

I’ve read and recommended Barbara Demick’s Nothing to Envy countless times and while that chronicles the lives of the ordinary Korean on the street (so to speak; it’s essentially a series of interviews with six defectors given some novelisation stylings), this gives you the chance to see North Korea from a different angle, from a real insider’s view, life in N. Korea for the privileged few and what that looks like and means. As Jin-Sung recounts his life and escape, it also reveals how North Koreans are seen and treated by the Chinese, by South Koreans and by fellow North Koreans, particularly ethnic Koreans living in China. As is the case with Demick’s book, there are several moments reading the book where I put it down, got up and walked away, got myself a brew, went for a walk, just did something to give myself some breathing space before I continued reading, as lumps-in-the-throat appear with more frequency than is comfortable and what you read becomes almost overwhelming. Yeah, I would say Dear Leader is absolutely worth reading as it is bang up-to-date (2014) and if you haven’t read Nothing to Envy (2009), that’s an essential read too!

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Dips Patel reviews Justin Kurzel's "Macbeth" and writes about his "Snowtown" and Kurosawa's "Throne of Blood"

The latest version of Macbeth hit the big-screen recently, directed by Justin Kurzel (who brought us Snowtown, which if you haven’t seen is well worth catching; brutal, grim and based on a true story it’s worth bracing yourself before you press play on that one...)

I digress, back to Macbeth, this time we have Michael Fassbender and Marion Cotillard in the lead roles. Visually sumptuous, the cinematography is exhilarating (and could easily be cast as a character in its own right) some interesting modern flourishes to the story and generally casting is spot on with Fassbender immensely affecting and pretty much perfect as the initially sceptical and apprehensive would-be king turned maniacal tyrant. My only issue with the film is, and it pains me to type this, Cotillard as Lady Macbeth. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, I think she’s a fantastic actor and has a great screen presence but a presence which doesn’t quite ring true for this role, her understated take on the character lacking any ‘theatrical’ quirks (a good thing) but also lacking (a bad thing) in that believable insidious lust for power that in my head, the character is consumed by, not just for her husband but herself. In my ever-so-humble-opinion, it’s the Lady Macbeth character that’s the driving force of the play and sadly I just didn’t get that from Cottilard’s performance, nonetheless , the film as a whole is definitely worth watching. 

Now then, for a pretty awesome Macbeth-y film I would highly recommend Akira Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood, which loosely takes the story and sticks it into a feudal Japan. Starring Kurosawa stalwart and long-time collaborator, Toshiro Mifune as Taketoki Washizu in the Macbeth role, and even given the deviations from the original source (of which there are many, including having just one witch instead of three who, by the way gave me the heebiejeebies) for the most part it’s a fantastic take on the Scottish Play. The point of me mentioning this now, sapping the last vestige of your patience is simply the performance by Isuzu Yamada, who plays Lady Asaji Washizu (the Lady Macbeth equivalent role). Creepy as hell, hugely impressive and wholly believable as the quietly Machiavellian wife whose whispering words in her husband’s shell-like unleash a murderous monster before falling to pieces as the realisation and ramifications of her machinations make themselves at home. A mesmerising, stunning and exquisitely pitched performance, well worth a peek.

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Night out with the Nanna's: Alex Bliss writes about a live gig by “Nanna Radleys Band”

Night out with the Nanna's by Alex Bliss

Nanna Radleys Band

So on a Saturday night, I have a problem. I’m not much of a clubber anymore; I’m fed up of having to shout to talk to my friends, I’ve got absolutely no rhythm and I am growing ever more angry at rising cloakroom prices. I like to sit in a pub until the early hours, chatting with my friends.

But my best friend, Verity, now she likes to dance and won’t hesitate to cut into the pub conversation with a cutting, “I’m bored now.”

Some weeks ago, Verity and I were trekking through town heading to a bar (to avoid paying the cloakroom fee at the eventual club, I am wearing only a T Shirt and am freezing!), when we pass O’Neills Bar on Loseby Lane and hear Ain't Nobody by Chaka Khan being belted out. I wanted to warm up (and get a pint), and Verity spied a dancefloor…

The Nanna Radleys (a band neither of us had heard of) were playing, and your foot starts tapping (or in my case shoulders bopping) almost the moment you walk in the door.

The atmosphere was heady with pure and simple fun! There is not posturing from the band, no slightly irritating attempt to be "cool" (they just are). It is brilliantly performed covers all the way and it is clear they know their job is to entertain their audience.

I got the drinks in and Verity headed straight for the dance floor. But soon the infectious music - songs you are either guaranteed to know or at the very least sort of remember the tune - had me dancing on the edge of the crowd, clutching the drinks. The bar was packed, and all seats long claimed.

The Nanna’s (as they call themselves) are a six piece band. They are led by singers, and sisters, Lauren and Sarah Bird. Sarah has a powerful, belting voice that brims with soul and a diva presence as big and fabulous as the flower pinned to her quiff. Lauren has a sensuous voice that leads you happily to the dancefloor (shoulders bopping!) and injects excitement into the repertoire as she throws herself into a rendition of Diana Ross’ I’m Coming Out.

The rest of the band is made up of David (guitar), Glen (bass), Carlos (drummer), and Craig (keys); all (to my unprofessional yet judgmental-a-though-a-professional-eye) brilliantly talented. One really nice and quite unique point to note about the Nanna’s is the range of ages: 27 - 57. Yet their laidback camaraderie and genuine warmth can be easily felt by the crowd.

Between them, they soon even have the men dancing and you feel like they are at least partly drawn by the music and not the ladies on a Hen Night already occupying the dance floor. I soon make my way to join Verity, sufficiently embarrassing myself with my dance moves but cheered by the Hen flirting with me (I think…).

Without a doubt, the Nanna’s provide Leicester’s least boring night out. You can sit, sup and sing along or bound onto the dancefloor and enjoy the fact that it’s not sticky. Like the Nanna’s themselves, the bar was choker with different ages; this is a band suitable for all.

Verity wasn’t bored. We’re going back.

Nanna Radleys Band website: http://www.nannaradleys.co.uk/

About the reviewer

Alex Bliss is a writer and producer. He is co-director of Original Ink, a theatre production company who have supported local writers, directors and actors by producing evenings of short plays which include: Hashtag, Mashed and The Meltdown Test. He has written plays for the 14/48 at the Y Theatre and currently works in events at Curve in Leicester. He is writing the book for a new musical soon to be performed at the Sue Townsend Theatre called Madeline and Joe, which revolves around a relationship between a young couple trying to conceive.
 

Review by Lloyd Wright of “Lost Japan” by Alex Kerr

Many first time foreign visitors to Japan arrive with an impressive set of delusions about their new surroundings, but American writer Alex Kerr avoided that fate by spending the best part of several decades there, from 1960s schooldays to middle age in the compelling and award winning Lost Japan (1993).

The upshot is an eclectic, insightful and very enjoyable collection of essays which take the reader into areas such as kabuki, calligraphy, to his sterling efforts renovating an abandoned old farmhouse in rural Japan.

He beautifully weaves intellectual curiosity with personal frustrations and trenchant opinions about contemporary Japan and its shortcomings (e.g. Kyoto). “After centuries of political intrigue ... the people of Kyoto have developed the technique of never saying anything.”

He unravels myths and celebrates the best aspects of his adopted country in a chatty and engaging style. Along the way, the reader is introduced to some key friends and associates who shaped his understanding such as his first Japanese teacher in America who chastised him in an early lesson for introducing himself as “Alex-san” (i.e. Mr Alex) because “san” is a value-laden honorific suggesting a degree of self-promotion that would not go down well in modest, ego-suppressing Japanese society.

One impressive feature of Lost Japan is the way that pan-Asian perspectives, whether Burmese mandelas or Chinese temple design, are dropped in to remind the reader of a much larger context beyond Japan. He states: “I realised I could never understand Japan if I did not know something about China.”

This book is a gloriously honest and passionate piece of writing which repays multiple readings. So, should you be lucky enough to find a copy, let “Alex-san” take you on a memorable journey up, down and through one of the most fascinating places on the planet.     

About the reviewer
Lloyd Wright is an under-employed EFL teacher who values engagement with students and others from across the globe – Chile to China – and especially their quirky views about British life. He writes occasional articles for diverse outlets and was briefly on the Disney payroll while writing about the unfolding drama of the 2002 World Cup.

Review by Dips Patel of “Alone in Berlin” by Hans Fallada

Easily ranks as one of my all-time favourite books and is one of my “go-to” books whenever I’m asked to recommend a book to anyone who asks me, “I want something I can really get me teeth into.”

It’s probably better to describe this as “faction” – the story is littered with biographical details of the author (as is the case for a lot of his novels) and is about a couple who were opposed to the Nazi regime in Berlin. After their son is killed fighting for the Nazis, the couple embark on a campaign of dissent, writing anti-National Socialist slogans on postcards and then dropping them in the stairwells of apartment buildings around the city.

The book can be seen roughly in a split, the first half is about the couple and the effect the war has on them, their relationship, and their relationships with their family, friends and neighbours. The second half becomes a real cat-and-mouse thriller with the couple trying to evade the attentions of the Gestapo Inspector charged with finding and stopping them.

What makes this book, for me anyway, is that the couple the story revolves around were real (and in the paperback there are facsimile copies of documents on the couple as part of the Gestapo’s files on them, as well as copies of some of the postcards they created). The author knew of them but didn’t really know them personally as such, so this is a fictionalised account of who they were and what they did. An extraordinary novel, brutal, harrowing and exhausting you will remember this long after you’ve finished reading it.

About the reviewer
Dips Patel is a graduate in Graphic Design which means he can colour in without going over the lines and when he does he makes it look deliberate, cool and edgy. He much prefers fine art where the art of talking nonsense is finer still allowing him extremely moderate success in introducing his work to a wider audience. Hobbies include reading stuff, watching stuff, commendably misguided attempts at painting stuff and consuming copious amounts of coco pops, clementines, curries, cakes and cocktails, not all at the same time which is frowned upon in polite society.

Lauren Bird interviews writer and producer Alex Bliss

Lauren Bird interviews writer and producer Alex Bliss

Alex Bliss

Alex Bliss is a writer and producer. He is co-director of Original Ink, a theatre production company who have supported local writers, directors and actors by producing evenings of short plays which include: Hashtag, Mashed and The Meltdown Test. He has written plays for the 14/48 at the Y Theatre and currently works in events at Curve in Leicester. He is writing the book for a new musical soon to be performed at the Sue Townsend Theatre called Madeline and Joe, which revolves around a relationship between a young couple trying to conceive.

LB. What inspired the story between Madeline and Joe?

AB. I was writing a musical with Jed Spittle about a band. The plot revolved around the members of the band and their lives in and out of the group (think Almost Famous but set in the 80s in Ibiza). We managed to get funding from the European Regional Development Fund to stage the musical, but quickly realised that the idea was too large - especially as we wanted the actors to also play the instruments.

There were two characters in that original story who were, for me, the most interesting characters: the most complex and real; and they had the most powerful storyline in the piece. That of, trying and failing to have a baby.

LB. Why a musical?

AB. Musicals, with some notable exceptions, have a reputation for being frivolous, superficial; all jazz-hands and kick-ball changes. There are very few musicals which try and address a challenging subject, such as infertility. Then, when writers do try to change the status quo, the project fails commercially. For instance, there was a musical called Next to Normal which dealt with a mother with bipolar disorder. The show won a Pulitzer Prize, but flopped commercially. I want to try again with a musical with a serious subject matter. I believe that a good musical should have a song at a moment of high emotion (whether that's happy or sad) as the characters need to reach for more than words in that instance and that's why I felt it was important to write this as a musical.

LB. We did our undergraduate and postgraduate degrees together and have been set similar assignments during our education, which mostly involved writing alone. I want to know how it is working in close collaboration with the other people involved in this project.

AB. It is challenging! But also very rewarding. So, we have Jed Spittle and Martin Slipp who have composed the songs and Michelle Gutteridge, who has directed the show and the main problems come when everyone is looking at the idea from their own point of view; from their discipline. We're all opinionated and a big bone of contention in the writing of the piece has been about the ending. We couldn't agree on whether it not it should end in a positive way; with there being strong opinions and arguments for a happy ending and the opposite.

Eventually, I wrote a new ending and then went to visit my parents in Devon. I sent the new scenes by email and heard nothing until I met up with the group for a rehearsal. We try to be as collaborative and inclusive as possible, but everyone had either added in or taken aspects from the new ending I wrote. At first, I was annoyed! We should've spoken about it first. However, when the actors played it out, I realised it was so much better and now we have an ending we're all proud of. And it's a lovely thing to know that it was a joint effort.

LB. How tough has the research aspect of the project been? Are you all clued up on ovulation and conception now?

AB. All I know is: ovulation is extremely complicated! I try not to get too bogged down into the medical jargon and have focused more on visiting forums and websites where couples going through IVF and fertility issues talk about their experiences. Some of the lines from the musical have come from being inspired by the emotions conveyed through those blogs and forums. Such as: "£6000 down the drain and our arms are still empty."

LB. You are co-director and co-producer of a theatre production company Original Ink. As Original Ink is acting as producer of the show, how easy is it to marry both roles as writer and producer?

AB. You have to go beyond what you want to write when you're thinking as a producer. A producer is about the bottom line: what sells. And so, as I'm writing, I'm fully aware of this.

There's also the stress of trying to promote the show whilst writing it. I have to prioritise writing social media statuses over re-writing scenes sometimes and that can be a hard way to think, as a writer. I had to console myself with the fact that there's no one to throw a hissy fit at, as I'd just be throwing one at myself!

It's also very easy to lose the quality of the show; or the perspective of the quality of it. I've seen it and read it so many times I sometimes don't know what to think of it. What was invaluable was being able to workshop the piece and showcase it to family, friends and industry professionals at Curve. I think this entire project has been a learning curve in collaboration and taking on constructive feedback and just having the balls to show something you've created to a group of people and honestly asking: "How can this be better?"

About the interviewer
Lauren Bird is a writer and musician from Leicester. She has written and directed two short plays which were produced by Original Ink and performed at Upstairs at the Western. She performs in various covers and originals bands in Leicester and currently works at the University of Leicester library.

Review by Alexandros Plasatis of a scary event at Fosse Public Library

I slowed down as I cycled along Tudor Road so I could take in what I saw, and I saw people standing outside their front doors, some holding a can of beer or a spliff, it was a lively road, and I wondered if Everybody’s Reading Festival was good enough to reach out to those people, not only the ones that see themselves as book lovers or whatever - that would be too easy - but those ones, those with the hard lines on their faces. And, down down down then left and right, I reached Fosse Library.

It was a tiny library, and the children’s section was set for the event with spider webs here and there, on the wall a dark castle surrounded by bats, witches’ hats all over the floor, and 15 or so children, some of them dressed in scary costumes. Some parents were there too. A boy was on the floor, underneath blankets, pretending to be asleep. I heard some kids talking about me, saying, “We have never seen this man before, who is this man?” and I didn’t say anything, I was looking mean, because I wanted to add to the atmosphere, because I am mysterious anyway.

A young female library staff member was hanging about in the children’s area, and after a while she said, “Are you prepared to be scared?” and someone switched off the lights. She stood in the middle of the children’s section, in the semi-darkness, all about her the scary decorations, and said: “Close your eyes and switch on your imagination,” and the kids sat on the floor, around her, circling her, and closed their eyes. Some parents closed their eyes too, but I was a bit suspicious of all that and kept my eyes open, just in case. A little girl stood up: “Wake up!” she said, and gave a threatening glance to us all: “I’ll tell you a story and you won’t be able to sleep. Ever again.” I thought, “Oh you mean little thing, I will sleep like a log.” Then the library girl ordered the children to make scary noises and the children went bonkers, they screamed screamed screamed, they were mad.

We were going to hear stories now, the library girl said, written by the children, especially for the occasion. One by one, the children stood up and read their stories, they read them out loud, and I heard about the ghost of Fosse Library, a strange creature called “Zozo” who ate two girls in the Library’s toilets the other day; about the training witch who wanted to transform a TV into a dog but unfortunately it came out as a sausage roll that tasted really bad; about radiators who bubble and gargle maliciously; about spiders who follow us. They all told their stories, and when they felt self-conscious as it can happen sometimes, they glanced at the library girl who encouraged them with a smile or a scary face.

Then a male member of staff took over and read out a scary poem, which was fine, but his real expertise showed straight after that, when he told us the story of Cold Johnny and Mean Morgan and some other chap whose name I didn’t catch. The guy was a natural storyteller, he narrated without reading from the book, and his performance was flawless, professional and impressive.

Back to the library girl, she ordered the kids to make scary faces and noises and they went mad again. Then she asked all of us to come closer (of course I didn’t), and those who dared formed a circle, and they had to keep on jumping because, apparently, a big scary hairy ball was after them: they jumped and laughed and they had fun and I laughed too. Meanwhile, I noticed (because I’m a very observant guy) that the boy who was pretending to be asleep earlier, had slipped out of the blankets and crept outside the library. He moved from window to window now, making scary faces at us, turning reality into fiction, living the fiction, but I got worried because no-one else seemed to notice him; I was wondering if he was real or if I was slightly influenced by the whole thing.

The children stood in a line, having a creative task to complete: the first one was supposed to come up with a sentence, the second would continue it, and eventually we would hear a scary story, but the first child was so excited that told us a whole scary story in one very long sentence.                   

And I sat back, thinking what a pleasure it was to listen to their stories, how much effort and love the library staff put into this event, how they had ignited the kids’ creativity, what great things happen in tiny public libraries like this one in this urban neighbourhood: in other words, I was lost in kind thoughts, when... “Boo!” three silly girls came behind me and made me jump.

“Now we will hear the Fosse Singers,” said the library girl: “Music, please,” and a lovely piano tune began (good coordination with the person who pressed “Play”, I thought), and the children’s lovely voices sang a scary scary song, and then another one, and it felt good, I liked it.

The library staff thanked the participants and the audience, and asked for a goodbye tune and the piano tune began, and as I turned to make my way out, I encountered my last surprise as I saw this chap right behind me playing the keyboard, waving his musical goodbye.  

About the reviewer
Alexandros Plasatis lives in Leicester and had short stories published in Overheard: Stories to Read Aloud (2012), Unthology 6 (2015), and Crystal Voices: Ten Years of Crystal Clear Creators (2015).

Review by Lloyd Wright of “Street Without a Name: Childhood and Other Misadventures in Bulgaria” by Kapka Kassabova

From time to time my book collection has been significantly enlivened by obscure gems from old library stock, made available to the public for 50p or less. A few years ago I stepped out of a Leicester library clutching a copy of the wonderful Street Without a Name: Childhood and Other Misadventures in Bulgaria, by Kapka Kassabova (2008).

As Bulgaria was about to join the EU and I knew little about the place beyond its role as a cheap property magnet for some Brits, I was eager to get reading.

The author superbly combines travel and memoir with a generous sprinkling of Balkan history in a book that evokes the grim atmosphere, contradictions and absurdities of growing up under Bulgarian communism at the height of the Soviet Empire. As if in direct dialogue with the old regime, she quickly asserts: “Beauty might be more important to the ego of a country, but truth is more important to me.”

Now a successful expat writer living in Edinbourgh, Kapka travels back after a long absence to a changing country, yet brings the perspective of a sharp-eyed outsider with an insiders grap of the good, the bad and the unbearably nostalgic. Her travel companion is an English-speaking boyfriend which only adds to the feeling that she now occupies a very different world from the everyday Bulgarians they meet.

The chapters zigzag through various stages of the author’s life before emigration with vivid descriptions of Sofia life spent in a residential complex known colloquially as “Soc Bloc.” Nevertheless, as someone with professional parents, her family enjoyed occasional trips to Moscow and other foreign delights.

Indeed, one highlight of the book concerns her mother’s reaction while visiting her father in Holland on a 6 month job placement during the cold war: the “orgy of abundance” in department stores, the “supernaturally clean sheets” and the “sparkling, perfumed” toilets in a provincial Dutch town puts her on the brink of a breakdown. When a Dutch colleague and his family then visit her father in monochrome Sofia in their brand new camper van wearing “bright pastel colours,” it is a moment of real comic beauty tinged with sadness.

I have subsequently visited Bulgaria on several occasions and can honestly recommend the country as much as the book. Happy reading – and happy travelling.

About the reviewer
Lloyd Wright is an under-employed EFL teacher who values engagement with students and others from across the globe – Chile to China – and especially their quirky views about British life. He writes occasional articles for diverse outlets and was briefly on the Disney payroll while writing about the unfolding drama of the 2002 World Cup.