Hey hey hey everyone. I’ve been away in the mountains this week, and hardly had any time on social media. So that means I may have missed something important, or funny, or entertaining. If you think so, leave me a comment, or a link in the comments, and I’ll take a look. Who knows, it may feature next week?
But in the meantime, here is what I did see on all your timelines, feeds and just in general on social media this week, so you can catch up before the weekend catches you.
Hope you find something you enjoy watching/reading, and that it starts your weekend off on the right note.
Let’s begin with a update on the State of our Nation - a summary - the ANC, Hlaudi, SABC, everything (except Oscar Pistorius, who got a six year sentence - ain't that outrageous?) as seen by Richard Poplak in the Daily Maverick. (Click the picture for the article.)
On Fridays I participate in BookBeginnings, hosted by Rose City Reader, and The Friday 56 - hosted by Freda’s Voice. Both involve sharing excerpts from a current book - the beginning and - you guessed it - page 56.
This week's book-
Click the cover for the Goodreads blurb.
Katie Browne is packing.
She gropes under her bed, seizing her blue backpack with the faux leather trim and begins stuffing clothes and toiletries into it, her eyes blinded by tears.
Here's my P56
I applied the scrunched up napkins stuffed into the driver’s door to my face, happy I had not made myself up that day. I needed to get to school, but I just wanted to howl and howl.
So this was love, apparently.
I would be better off teaching the kids about this, rather than To Kill a Mockingbird. It would be of much more use to them in the future.
I started this book two days ago, expecting to be well into it by now. I finished it yesterday. It was that good. I do love a quick read, especially after I've had a few waders. Dear Amy is a column that local teacher, Ms Lewis, runs as an agony aunt. After a girl goes missing, one who disappeared decades ago starts writing to Dear Amy, and if they can find her, they may have a chance of saving his latest victim. I loved the psychological aspect of it, and all the heartstopping action.
Tell me what you're reading, and I'll pay you a visit. Happy reading everyone.
All the Missing Girls starts, at a point in time, then jumps two weeks forward, and is subsequently told in backwards order, day by day, counting down to the start of the story.
Initially I thought that this was clever, different and difficult to write. Getting used to reading in this way is also not easy. You have to come to terms with the fact that the story during the day moves forwards, but then there is a discrete jump back to the beginning of the previous day, which can jolt a little. I fell asleep while reading once, and my dreams were in such a jumbled order, I woke up completely disoriented.
But if you imagine writing a story by setting a number of scenes, drawing them so that the characters develop well, and the plot moves on, then it isn't as complex. And that level of planning is necessary for this kind of book.
All the Missing Girls is about the disappearance of a girl in a small town, and has reference to a similar disappearance a number of years earlier. The same crowd is implicated in both, and there is a strong sense of eeriness and distrust, which is unsettling.
Nicolette Farrell (Nic) has moved on from Cooley Ridge, where her best friend, Corinne, disappeared without a trace. She must return to visit her father, who struggles with dementia, and sort out the family home. The remaining members of the gang - her brother, Daniel, ex-boyfriend Tyler, Corinne's ex-boyfriend Jackson and the younger Annaleise (now dating Tyler) are all still around.
The story worked for me, but I'm not sure that the backward telling was completely necessary to the plot. But hey, I figure if you want to tell a story, you can tell it in the order that suits you, right?
The characters were great, and the plot was interesting. The resolution was well executed, if a little too neat and tidy for my taste.
A thoroughly enjoyable read. Don’t worry too much about the time-jumping.
4 stars
ISBN: 9781501146244
With thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for an advance copy in exchange for an honest review.
“Every once in a while you need to try something new.” Perfectly reasonable words, right?
Not when you’re under the age of 8, and your mother is chasing you around with a spoonful of disgusting looking cauliflower. Not just plain cauliflower, mind you. Cauliflower that has been cooked with you in mind, and therefore smothered in delicious cheese sauce. Only - now that you have moved from the eating nook in the kitchen, to the passage, tried unsuccessfully to escape to the bathroom, claimed a desperate need for the toilet, and are throwing a tantrum in your bedroom - the sauce and cauliflower are both cold, and you still don't want to try some.
I’m pleased to report she didn't give up. And today, a number of years later, I love cauliflower, but can’t eat cauliflower cheese without remembering being chased around the house by my mother, a cold spoonful, and her pleas ringing in my ears.
We don’t always like trying new food combinations. Especially soups with things that aren't usually in them (like pears). This one you may want to try, however. I’m going to. I’ve tasted it, but not made it. That will change soon.
Broccoli, Avocado and Rocket Soup
You need: 2 cups broccoli florets
1 ripe avocado, chopped into small pieces
½ cup chopped onion
2 cups rocket
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 teaspoon lemon juice + zest
2 cups low-sodium vegetable stock or chicken stock
Heat the olive oil in a large pot, and fry the onions until translucent. Add stock and bring to a boil. Add broccoli and simmer for 30 minutes. Don't worry if the liquid doesn't cover the broccoli, but watch that it doesn't burn. Allow to cool. Add the rocket, avocado and lemon juice and use a stick blender to puree. Serve reheated, or cold, with a dash of lemon zest.
H is for Hawk is unique. This is a book that is so completely other to any I have read.
I listened to the Audible version, which is read by the author. An unexpected treat, because she has a lovely lilting subtle voice, which was a pleasure to listen to. Also this works, since it is a memoir, but then, it's really not a memoir at all.
It may be easier to tell you what this book is not...
It's certainly not a crime novel, with a twisty dark plot. Neither is it historical fiction, nor is it YA, chick-lit, or a family saga.
It is quite beautiful. Haunting, it is mostly about a goshawk, named Mabel, and the author, recovering from trauma, who turns to the ancient practice of falconry to help her through the grief of losing her father.
Your reaction may be similar to mine - "Why would anyone want to keep and train a wild bird of prey. It's cruel, inhumane and just wrong?"
But people do, and then others write about it. And it's monstrous and tragic and fraught and sad. Kind of like death. I think that may be Helen's point. She makes it well. It is what it is.
"...proper Winter is here, and Mabel is fizzing with happiness, rugging her tail in barely suppressed excitement; tummy feathers fluffed over her grippy toes, eyes gleaming silver in the sun. If this hawk could speak, she’d be singing under her breath. Something has changed inside me. Today it’s hard to slip into the wordless sharpness of being a hawk. Or rather, the hawk seems more human today."
The bonus is how the author tells it. With elegant choices of words and phrases, that expose the raw pain, the wild fury, the tremendous sorrow and the heart-wrenching agony of falconry and death. Quite gorgeous.
I'm glad I listened to it.
A conflicted 4 stars.
ISBN: 9780224097000
I don't know what other books to recommend that are like this one, but if you're looking for a good memoir, here's one, or beautiful prose, what about The Keeper?
"Did you get Mondayed?" I asked the drowsy, clearly-not-in-the mood-to-talk teen, as she eventually flopped into the car seat, her scholarly possessions - enough to take up a shopping trolley, all carried in various sized, equally heavy bags on her small person - having been ceremoniously dumped into the boot, as she drew a frosty sigh. She nodded, tired and grateful that I got it.
"Me too. Let's just have a moment of silence, shall we?"
The silence lasted all the way to school - it isn't far, and I realised that I was all grown up as a parent, I could even do this without shouting, swearing and a glass of wine at eight in the morning. It has taken me a while.
Monday is the worst day. And when it hits, and you're not ready, it's the absolute pits. If you're unable to climb back into bed and avoid it altogether, then it's best to go easy on yourself. We're only human, after all. Paula Marais, a published South African author, blogs about it in on 'A jumpstart to my week'
Since most of you reading this are probably in bed, and not planning to do much today (t's holiday season for the whole world in SA (all education systems) and 4th July elsewhere) let's remember the manicness that Monday usually is, lie in a little later, and enjoy some music.
For those of you running, or exercising in other forms, here's your track. Just Another Manic Monday. Hope you enjoy it.
"Wish it were a Sunday. Cos that's my fun day. My I don't have to run day."
Except it actually kind still is Sunday, after all. Have fun wherever you are and whatever your'e doing.
Sunday morning. Time to think, to dream, to be inspired.
There is an old Christian hymn - "It is well with my soul", written by Horatio G. Stafford, who was born in 1828, and lived on earth until 1888. The story behind the hymn is often-told, and you may know it, but I am going to paraphrase it here, because it will provide context for my post.
Once upon a time the Stafford family lived in Chicago, attended a Presbyterian church, were friends with the Moody's and other evangelists of the time. In 1871, the Great Fire of Chicago started a chain of events that wiped out the family's investments. They kept the faith, and when there was an opportunity for a ministry trip to Europe, Mr Stafford thought to take his family - they all needed a break.
However, he was detained by business in Chicago, and when the time came to sail, he waved his wife and four daughters off on the SS Ville du Harve, planning to join them as soon as possible. Halfway across the Atlantic, their ship was struck by another vessel, and although Mrs Stafford miraculously survived, Tanetta, Maggie, Annie and Bessie all drowned as the ship sank in 12 minutes.
Mr. Stafford sailed across that same ocean to comfort his devastated wife, and at the approximate spot where the accident had occurred, received such comfort from God, that he was able to pen the following words:
When peace, like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll,
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say
"It is well, it is well with my soul."
If you are in a dark place today, and have lost friends, family, or even a little of yourself, know that exactly where you are is the place God loves to come and live with you. He brings light into our darkness, life from death.
The picture in my mind is of a grey stalk on a rose bush, that looks fragile enough to snap. In the bleak wintry day, buffeted by the frost and the wind, it looks ready to die, to give up. It is fragile enough to snap off and become compost. But God sees a tiny glimpse of green. A fresh new bud, that in time will burst forth with life and growth, a new beginning. And the seemingly dead stalk, because it held, will be the source of life for that bud, and that growth.
My prayer for you is that you will hold on, and hear the words of life that God is speaking into your heart today.
Psalm 46:1 God is our refuge and strength, a help always near in times of great trouble
Here's a post of the hymn, and a retelling of the story.
Welcome to the wonderful weekend. It's packed with activity, and all I want to do is read. #thestruggleisreal, as my teens would say. If you were an early bird, sorry about the technological problems - this one works!
Where should we start today? It's been an interesting week, what with the aftermath of Brexit and the reality of winter hitting where I live. It wasn't a huge news week on my timeline, but hopefully I found some interesting snippets for you to read, watch, or store for later. Click the pictures for the links. Now's the time to get your tea.
Trevor hasn't been as downright funny of late, but in my view, his Brexit rant was on form.
Staying with Brexit for a bit, it seems Boris will make it happen, and now maybe the Brits are stuck with him. So obviously this clip was hauled out to make them all feel better - 'You're a Nasty Piece of Work, Aren't You? The BBC's Insanely Awkward Interview with London's Mayor.
In other local news, Bonita Nuttall had a problem with FNB (a bank in SA). Problem is she lives in NZ. So she did this. What do you think? Takes a bit more effort than a phone call, but way more effective. Apparently it took one and a half hours after she posted this to be sorted. Time difference notwithstanding.
We are ALWAYS looking for new coffee spots to try. So here's a list of great places near us. Happy to say there are some new ones for me. All with wi-fi. Of course.
I know this makes this post risk being Joburg-centric, but these pictures are too good not to share. The 20 reasons to never visit Joburg. Please don't. (Or is that sounding a little Capetonianish?)
"OMG I nearly died..." Lucky for us, we don't hear that statement as often as it's said. These days it's said on social media, not out loud. Someone wrote obituaries for the girls who said this, if they actually did. Die, that is.
It's not them, it's us. Clearly. Why your teenager thinks you're an idiot. From The Guardian. I enjoyed this.
Let's lighten the mood, shall we? Music does it for me. This is amazing - Bobby Sweeney demonstrates the power of the pentatonic scale. With a very involved audience. I could watch this over and over again. You don't even have to know what a pentatonic scale is to understand, but if you're feeling the urge to Google, a pentatonic scale is five notes (scales usually have seven), that are used as a base for the music - be it jazz, country, ranging from China to Scotland. Even hymns. They are very easy to sing - as this clip makes crystal clear.
I love historical fiction. You too? Here's a list of the 50 essentials. As with most good lists, it has a number I've read, a few I feel the need to read, and a few I've never heard of. You? Anyone read them all?
I enjoyed this blog post. The benefits of being single by Kelley Thorrington. I'm not sure why, as it has been a long time since I was single. I think it's the writing. Yes, it must be the writing.
Do we need a bonus track? I think we do. It's THAT kind of weekend. So this is rude, has bad language, but if you know Jeff Dunham, it's hilarious. That's why it's the bonus track - if you're easily offended, just leave now.
Ok, time to start the race to fit everything I've planned for the weekend into a single day. So I can rest tomorrow. Enjoy yours - hope it's fun and relaxing.
Welcome to the wonderful weekend. It's packed with activity, and all I want to do is read. #thestruggleisreal, as my teens would say.
Where should we start today? It's been an interesting week, what with the aftermath of Brexit and the reality of winter hitting where I live. It wasn't a huge news week on my timeline, but hopefully I found some interesting snippets for you to read, watch, or store for later. Click the pictures for the links. Now's the time to get your tea.
Trevor hasn't been as downright funny of late, but in my view, his Brexit rant was on form.
Staying with Brexit for a bit, it seems Boris will make it happen, and now maybe the Brits are stuck with him. So obviously this clip was hauled out to make them all feel better - 'You're a Nasty Piece of Work, Aren't You? The BBC's Insanely Awkward Interview with London's Mayor.
In other local news, Bonita Nuttall had a problem with FNB (a bank in SA). Problem is she lives in NZ. So she did this. What do you think? Takes a bit more effort than a phone call, but way more effective. Apparently it took one and a half hours after she posted this to be sorted. Time difference notwithstanding.
We are ALWAYS looking for new coffee spots to try. So here's a list of great places near us. Happy to say there are some new ones for me. All with wi-fi. Of course.
I know this makes this post risk being Joburg-centric, but these pictures are too good not to share. The 20 reasons to never visit Joburg. Please don't. (Or is that sounding a little Capetonianish?)
"OMG I nearly died..." Lucky for us, we don't hear that statement as often as it's said. These days it's said on social media, not out loud. Someone wrote obituaries for the girls who said this, if they actually did. Die, that is.
It's not them, it's us. Clearly. Why your teenager thinks you're an idiot. From The Guardian. I enjoyed this.
Let's lighten the mood, shall we? Music does it for me. This is amazing - Bobby Sweeney demonstrates the power of the pentatonic scale. With a very involved audience. I could watch this over and over again. You don't even have to know what a pentatonic scale is to understand, but if you're feeling the urge to Google, a pentatonic scale is five notes (scales usually have seven), that are used as a base for the music - be it jazz, country, ranging from China to Scotland. Even hymns. They are very easy to sing - as this clip makes crystal clear.
I love historical fiction. You too? Here's a list of the 50 essentials. As with most good lists, it has a number I've read, a few I feel the need to read, and a few I've never heard of. You? Anyone read them all?
I enjoyed this blog post. The benefits of being single by Kelley Thorrington. I'm not sure why, as it has been a long time since I was single. I think it's the writing. Yes, it must be the writing.
Do we need a bonus track? I think we do. It's THAT kind of weekend. So this is rude, has bad language, but if you know Jeff Dunham, it's hilarious. That's why it's the bonus track - if you're easily offended, just leave now.
Ok, time to start the race to fit everything I've planned for the weekend into a single day. So I can rest tomorrow. Enjoy yours - hope it's fun and relaxing.
On Fridays I participate in BookBeginnings, hosted by Rose City Reader, and The Friday 56 - hosted by Freda’s Voice. Both involve sharing excerpts from a current book - the beginning and - you guessed it - page 56. It's fun because you get to showcase a book that you're about to read, or busy with, and also visit other people, and add to your bulging pile of books you want to read.
Beginning:
He walks into the living room and June is dead. No soft movement across her chest, no quivering eyelid. The sunlight from the window catches her lashes and greying blonde hair. Her painted red nails rest on the arm of the faded chair. He centres her, checking the light. Focusing, he clicks the shutter.
P56
Rook pretended not to see them. He thought of the first time he'd gone to the pub in Backton, how he'd stood amongst the crush of bodies, hoping that his father would turn and acknowledge him. That hovering feeling of not fitting in.
This week's book-
This is an early print copy from the publisher - so it doesn't feature on Goodreads yet. The picture is my bad photography, but you get the gist. It seems that a Kindle version is available on Amazon.
The blurb reads:
Rook Henderson is an award- winning photographer, still carrying the hidden scars of war. Now, suddenly, he is also a widower. Leaving his son Ralph to pick up the pieces, Rook flies to Vietnam for the first time in fifty years, escaping to the landscape of a place he once knew so well.
But when Ralph follows him out there, seeking answers from the father he barely knows, Rook is forced to retrace his past: his childhood in Yorkshire, his life in London in the 1960s and his marriage to the unforgettable June - and to ask himself what price he has paid for a life behind the lens.
What do you think? I can't wait to start.
Tell me what you're reading, and I'll pay you a visit. Happy reading everyone.
