Month: April 2017

reading the memoir in 2017 (part 1)

This spring and summer seem to be a good time for readers of adult nonfiction, with a good few of those releases belonging to the sub-genres of memoir and biography and coming out right in time for us to enjoy the great outdoors and the lovely, warm weather that we can but hope will follow. Undaunted as I still am on my learning journey throughout the genre, I intend to read a fair number of memoirs this year. The question now is, of course, which ones and where to start. Isn’t it always? So how about I start with a beckoning towards old loves? Because, when all is said and done, aren’t loves of old the most enduring ones? § Women’s memoirs Jess Phillips, Everywoman: One Woman’s Truth About Speaking the Truth It should come as no surprise then, at least to those who know me well or have been following me on social networks for any amount of time, that the first memoir I hope to be reading this year is a book a) by a woman, b) a woman who …

the pleasure of simple things

  Encircled with shading net, it is cooler on the patio than on the outside-outside, the rest of the garden. Through its dark green weave, I can still see the glare of the summery heat, blazing white, overwhelming. Outside the netting, it is almost too hot to breathe, almost too hot to live. Inside the netting, life still seems possible. It is only April; it should not be this hot, not yet. I wonder what the real summer will be like, come July and August. I went to the fishmongers this morning. So much fish. So much variety. While here, I always try to eat what I can’t get hold of in England: ‘carapau’, my firm favourite; how I’ve missed it all these years. And then the ‘fanecas’, so delicately flavoured; I could never understand why the Brits, as proud as they are of their ‘fish and chips”, can disdain such lovely fish as pout and horse mackerel. Silly, silly, silly people; they don’t know what they’re missing out on! And then… And then there is …