Just a Thought

I sat on this earlier. It’s a bench in a war memorial not far from home. Peaceful place it is too.

I spent a bit of time looking at the memorial itself.

And I noticed that the back had been left blank.

Now I know, I know, it hasn’t actually been left blank, and the fact that there are no names on it is a good thing. But there’s something poetic about it, I think.

Just thought I’d share.

I Don’t Do Reviews

It’s true. I don’t. But I do like to mention books I’ve enjoyed, and I’ve not enjoyed anything more than Willful Creatures, by Aimee Bender in a long time.

So where to start? Well, the book’s a collection of short stories, fifteen in all. And they’re fantastic and I mean, REALLY fantastic. I ordered the book from my library after reading a review of it in The Short Review. The first story grabbed my attention, it was like being grabbed by the throat, to tell the truth. And after reading it I thought, wow, this is good, I hope she can keep it up.

And she does. And I mean REALLY. Each story seemed better than the last, which when I considered each one a gem, is quite a thing.

Three stories in I ordered my own copy. Now, this wasn’t solely so I could have my own copy, though that was a big part of things. You see, I wanted to read the book slowly. Slowly. I wanted to savour the experience. Take one story at a time. One every few days, giving myself a real treat. And I didn’t want a library fine.

After each story I think I spent longer sitting, turning the book in my hands, being in that strange, warm, glowing place of reflective admiration, than I did reading the stories themselves.

And on to the stories themselves. If I were to describe them they’d sound odd and strange and trippy. And they are a bit: there’s a women who has potatoes for babies; a family of pumpkin-headed people who have an iron-headed son; a man with a noisy brain…

But as bizarre as they sound, they (and the less out-there sounding ones) have one common factor: they all have an affecting emotional heaviness. And they all feel very, very real. (Okay, I know that’s two – so what!) They’re all boldly, and excellently, dazzlingly written (there’s a touch of Hemingway’s directness) and utterly captivating. And they all have resonance. I think they’re all applicable to our lives, to our world. It genuinely felt as though it could have been written for me.

When I finished it last week I was genuinely disappointed. That was it. All gone. No more.

It’ll be a long time before I read something as good, I think. It’s not all bad though – there are two other Aimee Bender books out there for me to read…

***

While I’m talking about short story collections, I wanted to re-post what I wrote about Leading the Dance, by Sarah Salway, at the beginning of the year, because I felt the same way about that as I did about Willful Creatures.

“Like ChocolatesSome books, more specifically short story collections, are like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. And I found myself thinking this about Leading The Dance, by Sarah Salway this week.

You see, I never read the stories in collections in order. I don’t know why, I just don’t. Last week, after many weeks of dipping in to it, I realised that sadly I was nearing the end. I probably only had one or two stories left to read, though, as I’d not read it in order, I didn’t know how many.

So, like those last few chocolates in a box you’ve really loved, I tried to save them. You know, as a treat. I didn’t want to be greedy and scoff them all in no time. And I didn’t want to lift the lid and see how many (or few) I had left. I wanted to enjoy them. And enjoy them I did but…

The box is empty now, and I’m disappointed.

I want more.

I loved the first book (Something Beginning With) of Sarah’s I read. And I love this, I think, as much. It is, I think, the best collection of short stories I’ve read. It’s delicate and tender in places, and heart twistingly sad in others. It’s not short on laughs either. And if there’s one thing that’s present right the way through the book it’s the uncanny way that you can empathise with or recognise almost all of the characters.It is expertly written and hugely enjoyable. The prose sparkles mostly, while at times it is nothing short of dazzling. And touching. A fantastic collection.”

Who Should Buy Your Books?

Phew. I think I’ve finished everything for the writing group’s two collections. Tomorrow it all goes to the printers. It has been hard work and stressful and to be honest I’m glad it’s done and over with and that I can get back, properly, to doing work for me.

Glad I can get back to being a writer.

I’m not, and would never pretend to be, an editor or publisher. And doing what I’ve been doing over these past few weeks has made me realise (or maybe reminded me) how difficult those jobs are. (Writing’s difficult as well, of course, but in a different way, and in a way I’m familiar with.)

Anyway. Back to the question. At the meeting last night we were trying to suss out how many books we’re going to need. We already have orders for the one we’re doing for the British Legion, so that’s kind of simple – we just have to guess how many we’re likely to sell at events. The other one, the one which is a collection of the group’s work, is a little trickier. Some members want to give it to people as presents. Some we’ll sell at readings we’ll do. Some will be on sale at local outlets (library etc).

So, it got to the question of how many we’d each like to order for our own use. When I said that I thought I’d need no more than 2 I saw a few pairs of eyebrows raised.

I think that people thought that, being a writer, I’d know loads of people who’d want to buy a copy. Truth is, I don’t. Truth is, I know plenty of friends who haven’t bought a copy of my book. And why should they? Just because I’ve written one? Don’t think so. Sure, it’d be nice of they did, it’d do my sales no harm at all but (and it’s the first time I’ve really thought about this)…

And I think this is the point.

I don’t write for my friends or my family. I write to be read by people who’ll buy or read my stuff because they like the look of it, because they think they’ll enjoy it.

I’m not suggesting for a minute that the only people who’ll read my writing group’s stories will be doing so out of pity or obligation. And I don’t think I’m being a misery-guts in not sending a copy to everyone I know. I didn’t do it with my book after all. And I certainly didn’t intend my comments to be offensive. I’m very proud of what the group have written (I wouldn’t agree to put the book out if I wasn’t). There are plenty of good stories and poems in there.

So I’m curious. What do you guys think of this? When or why do you buy books? Who would you give books to? Am I being a great big meanie?

(And just so there’s not any confusion: I love my writing group and think they’re all fab people and writers; and I ended up agreeing to buy more than 2 copies of the anthology…!)