Author: Sara Crowley

sunseaseasun

Sara Crowley6 Comments

Life gets pretty fucksy at times. It’s hard. It’s not always what we hoped for, not the way we dreamt it could be. I like to reference Dave Grohl, guru of all literary types, when he said “You just fucking play the hand you’re dealt.” That’s all we can do, right? So, I don’t have much time for writing, and that makes me feel a bit weird. I process life by writing so not writing means, perhaps, that I absorb a lot of what’s happening without dealing with it in my usual way. I’ve been looking for other ways to stay strong and finding enormous solace in nature. Look at the sea. The moon. Stars. Trees. Flowers. These are the things that help me breathe. And the Prosecco. Hoho. Anyway, I took a couple of photos/snaps in Worthing and they are pretty damn gorgeous. Thought I’d share.


Worthing sunset

Laura Lamont’s Life In Pictures by Emma Straub

Sara Crowley2 Comments

This is a thoroughly enjoyable read; a book one can sink into and enjoy. We join Elsa Emerson as she lives through the years 1929 – 1980.  Brought up in a theatrical family, we witness as she transforms from little Elsa from the country, to Laura Lamont, Hollywood movie star. The heart of the story is Elsa’s attempt to reconcile both parts of herself, Elsa and Laura, and come to peace with the losses and loves of her childhood. All this takes place against a back drop of film sets, glamour, silk dresses, leading men, money, opulence and fame. The story attempts to also dig beneath the glitz to show the seedier side of life in pictures; characters develop drink and drug problems, actors fall in and out of favour with their all powerful bosses, sex is traded, lives are ruined.
Straub writes well, though she overdoes the references to the two sides of Elsa/Laura. It became a distraction to me to note how many times we were told this was an issue.
The trouble with a book spanning over fifty years is that huge chunks of time must be skipped over. Laura’s love affair with studio boss Irving Green is sweetly told, and her family relationships are interesting. She forms a friendship with kooky actress Ginger, and a close bond with Harriet, the nanny, but there’s no depth. Neither is there weight in her relationships with her mother, sister or children. The novel doesn’t stand up to scrutiny but sometimes it’s best to just enjoy, and so I did. It is a delicious read.

Everything is not ok…

Sara Crowley5 Comments

I can’t tell you how much I love this image. It was in the weekly brain pickings (You do subscribe to brain pickings, right? It’s wonderful – always full of chewy, interesting things.)

Anyway, everything is not ok but some things will be, so this seems pertinent right now. My life is not how I’d wish it to be. It is not how I ever imagined it. I am not ok. But, ya know, I will be. Probably.

Alys, Always by Harriet Lane

Sara Crowley4 Comments

I’ve just finished reading Harriet Lane’s debut novel, Alys, Always. There have been many positive reviews and this is a book with a buzz and a big promotional push behind it. Lane was, maybe still is, a journalist, and I suspect she is rather well connected. She writes beautifully. By which I mean she describes things excellently. Looking through the cooly appraising eyes of her first person narrator, Frances, we see, as she does, the objects and decor, the books and foods, the lives of her family, colleagues, friends, and the Kytes, and they are brought to life for us in this way. 

“My parents have set up a picnic table in the garden. ‘Isn’t this glorious?’ my mother says, unpopping foldable chairs and disregarding the rather stiff breeze that is sending the paper napkins fluttering like giant yellow butterflies into the euphorbias.” 


It reveals so much about the mother it’s really wonderful. Yet at other times the prose  seems overdone.

“Just for a moment, as I stand by the sink peeling a long rosy spiral from the yellow flesh of an apple, I think about all of this and what it means to me.” 

Do we really need both the “rosy spiral” and the “yellow flesh”? Perhaps we do. I’m a far plainer writer, more likely to write “…peeling an apple…”

The story opens interestingly enough, with Frances driving home from her parents and coming across a car accident. She keeps the dying driver company whilst she awaits an ambulance, and becomes the last person to speak to Alys Kyte, wife of famous author Laurence. From this moment on Frances becomes involved in the Kyte’s lives. 

I’m baffled by the praise heaped on what seems to be a rather shallow novel. Touted as a psychological thriller it’s really not. I was waiting for a twist or reveal to force me to rethink the whole thing, but it never came. It’s a not terribly exciting story about a woman who aspires to be more, and have more, but she’s not exactly awful about it. It’s more a case of worming her way into people’s affections with flattery and faux interest. Hardly thrilling. There’s a weird bit where she becomes a reader for the same woman that Alys was a reader for, and the whole part feels entirely bolted on as if an editor advised there should be some additional stalky creepiness. 

The prose is delicious but is steeped in the kind of ultra middle-classness that made me think of those times a Daily Mail columnist bemoans the high price of cashmere or something and the whole of twitter mocks mercilessly. As for Frances, well, she’s so chilly it’s impossible to warm to her. It’s ultimately a novel that I found difficult to care about.



By the way, I have no idea why some of this post is double spaced and one quote is highlighted white. I’ve tried to look at the html but can’t make head nor tail!

How The Trouble Started by Robert Williams

Sara Crowley1 Comment

Robert Williams is the author of Luke and Jon, a young adult/crossover novel which I loved. How The Trouble Started is his second novel and can be found in adult fiction, however, there is a definite continuation of theme and style in this story of guilt, isolated children and single parenting.


Donald, the first person narrator, is 16. He lives with his mother in Raithswaite, a place they moved to after “the trouble”. We immediately learn that at 8 Donald was involved in an incident in which a 2 year old died. We don’t know how it happened, or how culpable Donald was. He returns to school afterwards but the harassment he and his mother consequently receive results in their move. Donald’s mother is resentful, veering from silent admonishments to loud, angry outbursts in which she rages at Donald for everything and anything. She demands he doesn’t discuss what happened with anyone for fear of reprisals. The incident is the silent burn between them, and the barrier between Donald and the rest of the world.


Inescapable guilt overwhelms Donald to the extent he learns to perfect “vanishings”; imaginary lives in which he is a whole other person, not the boy who killed a toddler. He attempts friendships but feels too awkward and different. In a wonderfully achy part of the story Donald describes his one and only visit to his two schoolmate’s houses. His sense of wrongness is reinforced by the luxury of their homes, the warmth of their parents. 


“Even their mums made me feel out of place. They were bright and friendly, coming back from the shops with bags full of expensive things, handing out treats like it was Christmas.”


After that he distances himself from them and, apart from Fiona, (the only sympathetic female character) a neighbour who he occasionally walks and talks with, is a loner.


When he sees 8 year old Jake in a playground, not fitting in, not dressed in the right clothes, he talks to him and they form a friendship of sorts – Donald making up scary stories, taking him to a spooky deserted house, buying him a can and sweets – and we worry about his intent. 


The fragility of life is never far from Donald’s mind, or ours. The story is short (I pretty much finished it in one go) and as I read on I couldn’t predict how it would conclude, I only knew that I had a worried feeling throughout and I wanted to know how it would end. Taken at face value Donald is extremely naive and his actions become increasingly hard to justify. 


When we learn the truth of the “trouble” it’s satisfyingly murky and neither Donald or the reader is sure which of two memories is the real one.


Williams is excellent at capturing kids that don’t fit; the alienated, the sad, the guilty. His mothers are absent even if they are physically present (in L&J the mum is dead) and neglect their sons. Boys are left to deal with the cruelty of the world, of school and other kids, alone. Occasionally an older man (teacher, neighbour) will show some much needed kindness. With his clear prose and easy voice Williams is able to touch on huge subjects like mortality, memory, guilt and intent without it ever feeling laboured or difficult. 


“… every second I was alive he wasn’t. That every time I looked at the sky, stroked a dog, ate a cake, ran a race, drank a drink, read a book, went to sleep, cleaned my teeth, combed my hair, woke up, sat down, stood up, he couldn’t. And all the things he couldn’t do, his mum and dad were there to see him not doing them.”


Wonderful.






James Meek – The Heart Broke In

Sara Crowley2 Comments

I’ve just finished Meek’s “The Heart Broke In” and enjoyed it far more than I expected to. It’s curious how one makes snap judgements about authors based on nothing at all. I thought I’d dislike this for no reason I can think of. It’s a page-turner of a read; I was always engaged enough to want to know what happened and how it would resolve.  It’s one of those sprawling (550 pages) family stories where years pass and we watch the characters evolve. Some of them felt a little sketchy and obvious, mouthpieces for the author to say something about morals, time, mortality, parenting or love. The scientists, the rockstars, the newspaper editor, the postman, the TV presenter – each of these was a clear type.


 Bec and Ritchie’s soldier father was killed for not betraying a snitch, the repercussions of this heroic act resonate through the years and provide a core for the novel. Ritchie the rockstar is unscrupulous and utterly delusional about his own goodness. Bec the scientist works selflessly to cure malaria and yet behaves badly to Val, a newspaper editor who sets himself up as moral policeman. Alex (once a hobby musician) is a scientist, as is his dying Uncle Harry. Harry’s own son is rather a cartoon Christian, bringing his family up under Bible rules. Meek attempts big things with this book – it doesn‘t get bigger than Science VS God does it? So it’s a commentary on power, media, sleazy old men and young girls – who is exploiting who? And it succeeds in having enough of a story to tie all these huge issues together. Enjoyable but not dazzling.


Notes

Sara Crowley6 Comments

I used to write about some of the stranger, funnier, or more demanding bookshop customers I had. They were always very popular posts and I enjoyed sharing them. Then a couple of pals told me another bookseller/writer had begun blogging about her customers and asked how I felt about it. I said I didn’t have ownership on amusing anecdotes, and I felt not much of anything about it. I couldn’t see that it was any kind of a problem. Then this person got a deal to publish a book of these ha ha customers. We have some mutual bloggy/writer pals but we’re not acquainted in any way. I haven’t read the book or her blog. Yet I stopped writing my own bookshop blether because I became self-conscious. I suppose I worried that people would think I was copying her (yes, even though I have blog evidence that I was doing it way back when.) Curious. 

Anyhow, I’ve just been tidying my desk and come across piles of notes. One includes an exciting message to myself:

THIS UNLOCKS THE NOVEL
Wince at the light
How do you know
How do I know

You may be surprised to hear that this note has not unlocked my novel. In fact I have no clue what it means at all.

Other notes are things I’ve jotted down about customers. All true.

Scary man shouts that the order I’ve just given him can’t be his as he was told it would take 3 weeks and it’s only been 4 days.

A man grabs my hand and kisses it. He leaves a wet patch on my skin and I feel sick.

A man hands my colleague a book. Colleague zaps book and asks if customer would like a bag. Customer shakes head. Colleague asks if he has a Waterstones card? Would he like a stamp card? Customer shakes head and doesn’t open mouth. As customer leaves he leans over desk, opens mouth to reveal a froth of plentiful white saliva and spittle, and gurgles, “Goodbye”.

Customer asks for a copy of “The Girl With the Dragon Toe”.

A woman says she’s been harassed by building society staff who called the police when she told them she would smash their windows. She says she always gets in trouble because of her anger. She asks me if she should go upstairs for a cup of coffee or go to church and sit quietly with a cup of tea. I recommend tea and quiet. She asks if I can find her a man. She has a black eye. She says she drinks too much and doesn’t know how she got it. She says I am a nice person and asks where I work. I tell her “Here, in the bookshop,” and she says she thought I must be a professional carer as I’m making her feel so much calmer. She leaves smiling.

A man asks me to recommend a book. I ask what books he has previously enjoyed and he shouts, “Never judge a book by it’s cover.”

A skinny man talks with the slowest speech pattern I’ve ever known. He maintains constant eye contact, monotones, does not smile. 

An angry woman asks if we sell books on how to control anger.


On being a "Reading Champion"

Sara Crowley1 Comment

City Reads is a damn fine organisation who describe themselves thus: 


City Reads is an annual citywide reading initiative which aims to spread a love of books and ideas to the widest possible audience throughout Brighton & Hove. The project is run by Collected Works: a Reader Development organisation based in Brighton. The concept is simple: selecting one book by one author for the whole community to read, discuss, debate and creatively engage with in a series of special events, workshops and performances.


They asked me to write a small piece for them about being a “Reading Champion”. (By the by, I find the name “Reading Champion” quite awkward and comical, so never refer to myself as such. I do, however, volunteer for their Read to Recovery programme.) 


Fiction has always played a large part in my life, I was making stories up before I could read, and I’ve never lost the joy of immersing myself in a fictive world. I work part-time as a bookseller, I’m a writer, and still an avid reader. I love the idea of using fiction as a tool to bring people together. After going through a selection process, and training, I’m currently co-running a group in Southwick at The Corner House – a fabulous resource centre for people with mental health issues. We meet once a week and take turns reading aloud (it’s fine if a group member prefers to listen, nobody has to read aloud). During the first sessions we read a short story and a poem each week, now we’ve moved on to this year’s City Reads novel: My Policeman by Bethan Roberts. We chat about the story as we go along, springboard off it into other discussions, memories, thoughts. It’s a small group, relaxed and informal, no opinion is wrong, all voices are equal.

I’m passionate about sharing stories, it’s part of what makes us human, and I see the group as a safe place for people to get together and do just that.

If you’re interested in any of the City Reads events you can find programme details here and if you’d like further details of Read to Recovery please click here.