Hello & Goodbye February

I originally intended to call this post three books, two house moves and a wedding – a round up of my activities for the month. February 2022 was always going to be a busy with Daughter No 1 due to get married, and Daughter No 2 completing her first house purchase. My mother-in-law is also in the middle of moving, but for some reason known only to those who work in the conveyancing world, nearly six months after she had her offer accepted on a flat, she’s still waiting for a completion date. The anticipation/stress lingers on. But the wedding was wonderful, despite the wrath of Storm Eunice. The bride looked beautiful and Mr T’s speech went down very well.

With house moving tasks and mother of the bride duties taking up much of the month, I’ve not knuckled down with any new writing. I need to crack on with Eliza Kane Book 3. I’m playing around with a few ideas. It’s easy enough killing people off, but as Eliza and I are both amateurs, we have to avoid solving crimes that require in depth forensic knowledge. Writing cosy mysteries is harder than I thought! It doesn’t help that Ed the cat has developed attachment issues – it’s not easy typing when half your keyboard is permanently covered up by a cat’s bum.

On a more positive note, Book 2, The Puzzle of Pine Bay is about to go off for a professional edit and at least this time I know what to expect. I’ll shortly be adopting the brace position. Seriously, I’m hoping to publish in June or July, although I realise all those plans I had to hit the market with a book 1, book 2 and book 3 in close succession have long flown out the window. And talking of things flying out of the window…if at some point in the future you happen to read one of my novels featuring an incident where a bridesmaid’s dress gets swept out of a window on a strong gust of wind just hours before a wedding, and you say to yourself, how ridiculous, that would never happen in real life. Trust me. It did.

So, on to February’s reading material. The Foundling by Stacey Halls is my first book of the month. I’ve read both Stacey’s other novels, The Familiars and Mrs England, and enjoyed them immensely.  The Foundling was Stacey’s second book and personally I thought it lacked the punch of the first, and the fluency and consistency of the third. The historical research is as meticulous as always, and I loved the premise of a baby left at a Foundling Hospital being reclaimed by someone posing as her mother, but the plot seemed a little too weak to carry the story. Overall, an enjoyable and interesting enough read, I was just left feeling slightly disappointed.

My second February book was Inheritance by Jenny Éclair. I’m a big fan of grumpy old woman Jenny and I imagine she had great fun writing this saga about a well-to-do dysfunctional family with plenty of warts. The story jumped about all over the place and there was plenty of humour amongst the waffle. But what a lot of waffle there was. Perhaps someone should have reined Jenny in!

My third read of the month was an enjoyable sci-fi romp, Andorra Pett and the Oort Cloud Cafe which was kindly donated by its author Richard Dee via a Facebook Group we’re both in. It’s a cosy mystery in space – a first for me – but as I’m writing my own series of cosies I thought it would be a good idea to check out the opposition. I could certainly see similarities between feisty amateur sleuth Andorra Pett and my own Eliza Kane, but the Isle of Wight is a long way from a space station just outside Mars!

I’ve enjoyed all the books I’ve read this month and have now opted for a heavy weight, Kate Atkinson’s Behind The Scenes at the Museum, which although I’m only a few pages in I sense will keep me occupied for most of March.

February has come and gone and spring is on its way along with all manner of other nasties, unfortunately. In times of trouble books can provide great solace – so keep on reading (preferably one of mine because they’re very uplifting and they will make you smile : ))

The Book by my Bedside

I’m starting my first blog post of the year with a resolution and a new feature – a book review. I’m a member of quite a few Facebook groups where the one question that pops up every December is what’s your favourite book of the year. As I find it impossible to remember anything without writing it down, one of my resolutions for 2022 is to keep notes of my bedtime reading so that I can answer the question honestly when the time comes this year.

I could do all this on the Goodreads website. I joined Goodreads long before I was a writer but keeping my virtual bookshelves up to date has fallen by the wayside. Goodreads is a useful tool for keeping track of books read, but I’m not setting any targets. I don’t want a reading challenge. I’ll read what I want, when I want to. That’s why I won’t join a book club. Having to read for anything other than pleasure is too reminiscent of studying for exams. The minute reading becomes a task it ain’t fun, no matter how intellectually enlightened I’m supposed to feel at the end of it. Ernest Hemmingway’s The Old Man and the Sea (English O’Level) left permanent scars. Old man goes to sea in a boat, catches a fish, ties fish to his boat, other fish eat his fish, he returns to port empty handed.  Did reading that book enhance my life? Not one iota. Totally pointless.

Many of the so called literary classics are far more likely to put teenagers off reading for life than instil a love of books. I do wonder who’s decreed some of these titles life enriching. Likewise, all those prestigious literary prize winners, and books listed in the Sunday papers as the “must reads before you die”.

Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s One Hundred Years of Solitude inexplicably falls into this category and is another book that left a permanent mark on my well-being – and not in a good way. Even worse, I read it under my own volition during my super school mom phase when it cropped up on my daughter’s US High school English syllabus and I wanted to be helpful with homework. If there’s one thing guaranteed to confuse your readers it’s to give multi-generations of the family all the same name. Just saying.

These “must read” lists are certainly not based on popular demand because talking of pointless stories, as in the ones above, we all know which author topped all the fiction charts in 2021 and is quite likely to do it again in 2022 with his latest offering.

Which brings me very swiftly onto my first book review of 2022. Yes, The Man Who Died Twice has been my bedtime reading for the first half of the month.  It’s very easy to be critical, especially as an author who was unsuccessful in finding a literary agent or publisher prepared to take on her own cosy crime featuring a feisty pensioner. Envy is a nasty thing. We all know celebrities these days only have to be able to write a shopping list and they get snapped up by a publisher, blah, blah, blah.

The trouble is I’m actually a great fan of Richard Osman on TV, I like his sense of humour. His first book, The Thursday Murder Club appeared in my Christmas stocking in 2020, and my main complaint, with my author hat on, apart from the extremely complicated plotline, was the constant head-hopping between characters – and there were an awful lot of characters to keep up with.  I’ve lost count of the number of novel writing courses/workshops/articles I’ve been on/read where wannabee authors are told not to switch points of views between characters – or at least not that many characters! Everyone in this story threw in their five pennyworth. That aside, I recognised the book for it what it was – a novel deliberately written to have mass appeal by a witty TV scriptwriter/producer, and who can blame him for trying. The Marketing Department at Penguin must have been rubbing their hands with glee when the manuscript landed on their desk.

Back to my review. Basically, for anyone who has been shut in a cupboard for the last few months, The Man Who Died Twice picks up where the first caper left off, four diverse pensioners in a swanky senior living village, setting out to solve a crime – in this case involving M15 and some stolen diamonds. It’s all very implausible, quintessentially British, and just like the first book, it has all the hallmarks of effortlessly transferring onto the silver screen with Dame Judi Dench and Penelope Wilton tucking into their sandwiches as they take the mini-bus into town to catch a Mafia boss.

Perhaps because I was used to the writing style and I knew the characters and accepted their flaws (although I still find Joyce extremely annoying) I preferred this story to the first. If you’re after intellectual self-improvement, forget it. This is not the book for you. But if you’re up for a lightweight romp through the Home counties, are happy with short snappy chapters, can overlook the ridiculous plotline, and keep track of all the characters and their histories…you’ll probably be well satisfied.

A 3 out of 5 from me.