News

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.

After all that has been happening nationally and internationally in the past week, perhaps we should turn our thoughts instead to...the weather!?

Yesterday's warm, bright sunshine certainly lifted my spirits and the days are getting noticeably longer now too. It's a welcome reminder that winter will pass.

In my reading this week, I was pleased to find books which offered hope and promise.

Women writing in '100 voices' shared their experiences of bringing about change in their lives, and it urged me to think about introducing small positive actions in my life - even writing letters more regularly to friends who enjoy receiving a personal message in the post.

And 'The Comet' is a beautiful picture book for young readers who might be experiencing an upheaval, giving them solace and the promise of a positive way forward.

There will be an opportunity to share our reading treasures tomorrow, when it's our book group meeting in Woodbridge.

We will be keeping to our existing measures regarding ventilation, distancing and masks, and I hope that you will feel comfortable to come along to discuss 'Mayflies' by Andrew O'Hagan.

I need to ensure we have everything in place ahead of the meeting so would be grateful if you would reply to this email by 10am tomorrow at the latest to let me know if you are joining us, and I'll send you all the details.

Thank you for reading!

When I heard that Adam Kay's memoir 'This is Going to Hurt' was being dramatised for television, I wondered how it could be done.

A hugely popular book, topping the charts for many weeks, it's clearly had a wide appeal but its wry and knowing observations on the life of a junior doctor would not be easily translated to the screen, I thought. And surely it would then undermine what was achieved so well in print - to entertain and enlighten, shock and inspire simultaneously.

Although I still feel that I prefer the book, the seven part series that is currently showing on BBC One is well done. But it is a difficult watch.

There is still some humour, and the acting is excellent - we really feel we know these characters - but it is a bleak presentation of our hospitals and of the overwhelming pressure bearing down on the people we call on for life and death decisions.

Although Adam Kay is presented as an unattractive individual in this drama (perhaps more so than in his books), we still see the subtle but distinct change in him when he needs to step up to the plate and save a life. What's more, every member of the team comes together for this common goal. There can be no point scoring when a life is at risk.

Reading the Covid diary of the ICU nurse, Anthea Allen, this week (Life, Death and Biscuits), I was moved to read of both her pride and delight in her team and in the nursing profession as a whole, and also how everyone implicitly knew their role, their contribution in any task or crisis. It is humbling and uplifting to read. When our society today continues to value individual goals and achievements, it is worth remembering how much good we can do when we work together.

Thank you for reading!

This week I went to see the film 'Belfast', written and directed by Kenneth Branagh, which has been nominated for seven Oscars - and well deserved in my opinion!

I found it to be a very affecting film. It's important not to forget the terrifying ordeals experienced by so many people through the Troubles, particularly as communities throughout the world are living through such horrors today. 

There was also, though, a powerful sense of community with the bonds of family, friends and neighbours presented with humour and sensitivity. And the artistry of the production, the camera shots, the scene setting, the acting, clothes and music, all made for this to be an uplifting and memorable mix of joy, hope, horror and sadness. What's more the story was told from the perspective of a child, inspired by the nine-year-old Kenneth Branagh. This made it even more poignant and telling as he and his friends sought to make sense of the bewildering and frightening actions of the adults they had grown up trusting.

Another story of childhood was released last week. Justin Webb, the presenter of the BBC Radio 4 Today programme has published a memoir called 'The Gift of a Radio'. In this very entertaining and nostalgic book he nevertheless acknowledges that he didn't have a happy time growing up. Indeed his experiences are at times quite unsettling to read. But again he writes with a sensitivity and humour, and the lesson he has learned, which he shares with the reader, is that we are all multi-faceted and we need to treat each other with kindness, understanding and compassion. He hopes, he says, that we can nurture “our ability to look at ourselves and others without condemnation".

And I was interested to read the latest children's book by the presenter and writer Danny Wallace. Called 'The Luckiest Kid in the World', it explores how commercialism today relies on finding the common denominator, the thing which everyone wants. In pursuing this, though, we all risk losing what is special, unusual or creative, and "no one thinks differently or tries different things or is ever truly excited about anything ever again". And it is through the experiences of Joe Smith, "an average kid", that the reader is reassured that "however ordinary we are, we are each of us so very special".

Thank you for reading!