News

It's difficult to know how to respond to everything that is happening in the world today. The issues seem so great and it's easy to feel helpless. How can we halt the climate crisis? How can we get alongside the homeless and dispossessed? What can we do for the people of Ukraine?

The novelist Andrey Kurkov, 'Ukraine's greatest living author', was interviewed in the Guardian this week and was asked what we might be able to do to help Ukraine. His response was to recommend that we read non-fiction. 

"Find out more about Ukraine," he says. "Read about our history: Serhii Plokhy's 'The Gates of Europe', Anne Applebaum's 'Red Famine'; Timothy Snyder's 'Bloodlands'. It's really important to understand the difference between Russia and Ukraine. If you really want to know about Ukraine's history and why this is happening, read those books."

Fiction titles were harder for him to suggest as, he says, Ukrainian literature doesn't tend to have a universal message. Nevertheless he does make some suggestions, and his own novels 'Death and the Penguin' and 'Grey Bees' have sold in high numbers in recent weeks.

Although my recommended titles this week don't refer to Ukraine, they do shine some light on difficult situations - the wise and wry words of Margaret Atwood's essays address big subjects with authority and insight, while the children's book is a clever, funny and moving presentation of what it might be like to be homeless as a child. 

I was in the bookshop this week when someone picked up the book 'The Life of an MP: Everything you really need to know about politics" by Labour's Jess Phillips. The customer decided it would make the perfect gift for her Tory-voting father: "that's how we got into this mess," she said, "by not reading someone else's point of view". Whether or not we agree, it's good to read about different perspectives and experiences to our own.

Thank you for reading.

There are certain cornerstones in my week. One of them has been 'Desert Island Discs' on Radio 4. So I was rather disappointed this morning to find that it had finished its run. In its place was 'Reunion' and the subject matter was the 2004 tsunami.

I have to say that I've rather had my fill of disasters, tragedy and catastrophe and I turned it off before the programme got fully underway. So you may think that my book recommendation this week is also poorly timed.

'When the Dust Settles' is a memoir of a woman tasked with dealing with the aftermaths of disasters.

I received an advance copy of the book some weeks ago and devoured it. When I enthused about it to friends at the time, I had some strange looks. I'm pleased to say that now that the book has been released, it has received a flurry of good reviews and has been the Radio Four Book of the Week.

The book is brilliant, in my opinion, because far from dwelling on or detailing what are of course horrific and harrowing situations, the author clearly exhibits such empathy and insight that knowing she is at work in these places is strangely soothing, reassuring and uplifting.

It was good to hear from someone who is calm and compassionate, skilled and knowledgeable, who knows how to lead well. And it was frustrating to hear of the times when she had been thwarted because of people who felt they knew better yet had none of her years of experience or study. It's a beautifully written book. I hope you'll give it a try.

Spring has arrived!

It's been so lovely in the past few days to feel the warm sunshine and anticipate the longer days now that the clocks have gone forward.

I've been fortunate in being able to enjoy the good weather alongside the water. Ahead of hosting an event for Maldon Bookshop with the printmaker and illustrator Angela Harding on Thursday, I was able to take a walk to the riverside where a number of spectacular Thames barges were moored alongside the quay. Their red ochre sails looked stunning against the sparkling blue water and golden marshes.

And this weekend I coxed two sweep oar crews along the River Deben.

It's not often the water is flat calm, empty of other river traffic and a glistening bright blue but early on Saturday morning it was just about perfect. The beauty and tranquility of our environment lifted our spirits, and possibly improved our technique, so we returned to the clubhouse feeling triumphant! 

We had been able to get out on the water because we had all made ourselves available to form a crew, and then committed to playing our part in moving the boat through the water - an individual and a collective effort. And though we are far from making any comparisons to an Olympic crew, my reading this week inspired our outing along a Suffolk river. Scroll down for details!

Tomorrow evening we will be meeting in Woodbridge to discuss this month's book 'Actress' by Anne Enright. We'll be taking all the usual precautions so please let me know if you are planning to come along so that I can send you all the details. 

Thank you for reading.

It's been wonderful to see the release of Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe this week, and for her to be reunited with her husband and daughter.

Former hostage Terry Waite, when interviewed about what Nazanin might expect in the coming days and weeks, said it is important for her to retreat quickly from the glare of publicity and then to talk to someone, to tell her story. The implication is that this might become a book just as he, Brian Keenan and John McCarthy, did so powerfully.

Naturally, many of us will be interested in learning about Nazanin's experience - how she felt, how she coped, her hopes for the future. Despite the fact that we can relate to the horrors of what she went through, and the loss of the time with her daughter growing up, we might still feel distanced from it, though, knowing this is something we are unlikely to experience ourselves.

When are we too close to a subject to be able to immerse ourselves in a memoir or a novel without causing ourselves additional upset or distress?

I started reading 'Uncommon Courage', about the yachtsmen volunteers in the second world war, before the book was published and before the war in Ukraine. Returning to it now feels more challenging. It no longer feels a distant reminder of the heroic efforts of ordinary people rising to a national threat. It is perhaps, though, even more salutary - if we ever need a reminder of the tragedy and destruction of war, and the costs and courage of individuals.

On other matters, we are hoping still to be able to meet in person for a couple of events in the coming days.

This week I will be in Maldon, Essex, hosting the printmaker and illustrator Angela Harding as she talks about her book 'A Year Unfolding' on Thursday 24 March at 7pm. There are still tickets available if you'd like to join us. Take a look here.

And it's time again for this month's book group meeting. We'll be taking all the usual precautions on Monday 28 March so if you'd like to join in the discussion, please reply to this email and I"ll send you the details.

Thank you for reading.

There hasn't been much to laugh about in the past week, two weeks, two years. But being able to smile even in the darkest times can help us to cope, to take control, to have hope.

People who work in the emergency services lead the way in this, of course, with the much documented 'gallows humour'.

I've always relied on satirical news programmes to bring a touch of sanity, insight and humour to increasingly baffling world affairs. When 'ordinary' people express what we 'all' seem to be thinking, highlighting the often ridiculous nature of politics and government, our collective laughter suggests that perhaps the problems aren't so great, so everything will be alright, it will all come good.

Recent times have proved particularly challenging for these commentators and comedians, though. When issues are a matter of life and death, how do they find the right tone for jokes and comments? How might there be anything funny to say about the situation in Ukraine? Is it possible to laugh about trivial concerns if we push these terrible events to the back of our minds?

I was amazed then at The News Quiz recently and The Now Show last week for their clever, astute but nevertheless sensitive approach to the events of Ukraine.

There was a time when I used to dip into 'The Mash Report' on television to see its often quirky take on the wrongs in society. I particularly enjoyed the pseudo-analysis provided by Rachel Parris. She is a comedian, a musician and a co-founder of an improv group called Austentatious who perform each unique stage show in the style of a Jane Austen novel.

When the lockdowns prevented live performances on television and in person, some comedians like Parris and her husband Marcus Brigstocke worked with a team called Always Be Comedy to provide comedy nights on Zoom. It was strangely comforting. They would speak from their spare room about what had happened to them that week, what they thought of the news, and then some silly games or songs. It felt like spending the evening with friends.

Rachel Parris has now written a book in the same tone as her performances, mixing sensible observation and commentary with her own wry and humorous take on life. It's similarly quite a comforting and enjoyable read, while at the same time encouraging the reader to share in a passion for change and justice.

Thank you for reading.

PS The heading this week is a quote from Mother Theresa.