Sharon Booth's Blog, page 10

In Praise of Libraries

Today (February 6th) is National Libraries Day, and the internet has been full of articles about the importance of libraries, and information about events that are being held to celebrate this special day. Which got me thinking about my own experience of libraries, and also made me realise that my relationship with them has changed dramatically. And not in a good way.

My first experience of a library – that I can remember, anyway – was when I was around four or five years old. Having sat through an assembly at school and hearing the Nativity story for the first time in my life, I was so enamoured of this miraculous tale that I wanted to know more about it. My dad simply said, ‘Well, let’s go to the library and you can get a book about it.’

The library was above the Town Hall

Now, I may or may not have visited the library before this, but I really don’t remember any previous visits. So off we went, me and my dad, to the local library, which was above the town hall. I well remember my dad pushing open that door at the side of the building, and the creaking of the stairs as we made our way up to the first floor. Opening the library door, I was faced with a large counter, where solemn looking librarians stamped books with silent authority. The stamping of books fascinated me. I wanted to be a librarian for years, just so I could stamp books.

The main room of the library was, unsurprisingly, given over to adult books, but

Ladybird Book of Baby Jesus

there was a small room that was purely for children, and, oh! What heaven lay behind that door. On that particular visit I found a Ladybird Book of Baby Jesus and fell upon it in delight. Later visits yielded treasures such as Paddington, the Wombles, Stig of the Dump, Babar and Milly-Molly-Mandy.

I was lucky. My mum and dad were avid readers, and my dad would often take me to the library where I was allowed to choose two or three books. As I got a bit older, I was allowed to go alone, and would spend hours in there, choosing books and sitting at the little table by the window, browsing through them and deciding which ones I would take home with me that day.

Milly-Molly-Mandy

As I got even older and could venture into the city on my own on the bus, I would take my pocket money each week and head to WH Smith to choose a new pony book every Saturday. But before I reached that age, the library was essential to me. Our little town had only one bookshop, and it wasn’t a particularly large one. Often, books had to be ordered and there would be an agonising wait for weeks until the stock arrived. I remember having The Cat that Walked a Week, by Meindert Dejong, read to me at school, and deciding that there was nothing that I wanted in my life more than that book. I begged my mum to buy me a copy. She was reluctant. It was a hardback book and quite expensive, but eventually she agreed and placed an order. I had to wait for ages until we got a call from the shop to say it had arrived. It wasn’t that easy to get new books. They weren’t cheap. There were no Kindles, no Amazon. The

The Cat that Walked a Week

library kept me sane.

I only really got new books at Christmas. They were my favourite presents. Invariably, they were Enid Blyton books, all hardbacks, and usually I would get at least three from my parents, who recognised my addiction to reading and, thankfully, encouraged it.  But three books a year would never have been enough for me. Those visits to the library were essential.

School libraries were a wonderful discovery, too. Packed to the rafters with books I couldn’t wait to get my hands on. I could never have afforded to buy them all. With a library at school and a library round the corner from my home, I never had to worry about running out of reading material.

When my own children were little, I took them all to the local library and they soon had their own little tickets. After school, I would take them there and let them choose books, while I browsed for yet more myself.

With the advent of the IT age, spaces were cleared so that computers could be set up in the libraries. My childhood library closed and a new one opened, modern and spacious with lots of glass and no creaky stairs. I realised that librarians didn’t just specialise in stamping books – not that they ever had, of course. But now, it wasn’t just books they had to know about. They had to understand the world wide web and information technology. Reference books were less in demand. We had Google, after all. Paperbacks were on sale in supermarkets. I could download a book I wanted to read in seconds to my brand new Kindle.

Hello Mr Twiddle

To my shame, I haven’t been to a library for some years now. Thinking about them today, I realise how vital they were to me and to my own children. There must be many people who still rely on them. Not everyone has access to technology at home. Not everyone has money to spare for books. Libraries have changed and adapted, holding events to help and encourage youngsters to read, classes to teach information technology, “meet-the-author” evenings and talks…Libraries are having to fight back, because so many have closed. It’s easy to blame the authorities for the closure of the libraries, but we have to look to ourselves, too. How many of us use them regularly? How many of us use them at all?

I am so thankful that I had access to a good library, and that I was lucky enough to have parents who recognised the importance of reading, and were happy to take me there. I hope that libraries will be around for a long, long time, revealing new worlds to young children, opening doors for all those eager to learn and discover. It would be a sadder world without them.

Have a great week xx

Beltane by Alys West

I was supposed to be writing this weekend, but I’ve been laid low with a chest infection and I’m feeling pretty wrung out with constant coughing and aches and pains. Abandoning all hopes of typing anything worthwhile, I decided to read instead. I thought I’d manage a few chapters and selected Beltane, the debut novel of Alys West. It’s set in Glastonbury, a town I adore, so the idea of it intrigued me from the start. Hours later, I turned off my Kindle, having finished the novel. It was so compelling that I couldn’t stop reading, and even felt bound to write a review, despite the concrete block on my chest! Yes, it was that good. There is, quite simply, nothing I didn’t like about this book.

From the very first page the reader is hurled into the story, with a shocking scene that really sets the tone for the whole book. A story of druidry, earth magic, paganism, witchcraft and spellworking, the plotline grips and enthrals, keeping you turning the pages, desperate to know what happens next. There are strong echoes of an almost-forgotten past, lost in a mist of mythology and legend, which isn’t surprising, given that the novel is set in modern day Glastonbury, a place where past and present collide and give the town a timeless aura.

Having visited Glastonbury on several occasions, and falling totally in love with the place, I could really picture the scene in my mind, but even those who haven’t had the pleasure of seeing the town in real life will be able to imagine it, with the help of the author’s beautifully written descriptions. The peace and majesty of the ruined abbey, the vibrant cafes and bustling streets, and the awe-inspiring and somewhat unsettling Tor are all brought to life within the pages of Beltane.

Strong plot, great setting and also fabulous characterisation – this book has it all. I adored Finn. What a hero he is, and it’s difficult not to fall for him. So difficult I didn’t bother trying! Zoe is a lovely heroine, and she shows a realistic and totally understandable bewilderment as the “normal” world she has always known tilts on its axis, and she struggles to believe in what she is seeing and hearing. The romance between the two of them is wonderful, and they certainly face a lot of unusual obstacles! Winston is intriguing, and I definitely want to know more about him. Since this is book one in the Spellworker Chronicles, I’m hoping we get to find out more about him and the work that he and Finn are involved in.

Beltane is a truly fabulous novel. It grabs you by the hand from the first paragraph and doesn’t let go, forcing you to run with it through menacing nightmares, evil magic, betrayals, terror, mystery, and tension, until finally it pulls you to a halt in a circle of standing stones and leaves you to face the final confrontation alongside Finn and his evil nemesis.

I loved this book and I would heartily recommend it. I really can’t wait to read the next novel in the series, so I hope I won’t be waiting too long. 5/5

You can buy Beltane here

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

I swear, I didn’t buy this book because of the recent television adaptation. I did, however, finally get round to reading it because of the recent television adaptation. I also swear that I didn’t watch it on television because Aidan Turner was in it. I would have watched it anyway. The addition of Mr T (and his towel) was a happy coincidence.

Right, so now that’s out of the way, what did I think of the actual book? I’m an avid fan of the Marple series on television, and I adore David Suchet as Poirot. Any Christie film is more or less guaranteed to enthral me. I watched the recent Tommy and Tuppence series, having never read any books featuring this crime fighting duo, and I quite liked them. They weren’t as good as Poirot or Marple, but they were okay.

Normally, I’m the sort of person who will tell everyone to read the book if they’ve enjoyed a film or television programme. It’s not often I think the book inferior to the adaptation. The strange thing about Agatha Christie is that, I actually prefer to see her work on the screen. I used to own the complete Miss Marple collection (until a charity shop accident, when all my favourite books were taken to Oxfam by mistake and I was left with the huge box containing the ones I’d wanted to give away – but we don’t talk about that *sob*). Anyway, I really liked the books, but they weren’t quite as exciting as the programme.

I remember watching Peter Ustinov in Murder on the Orient Express. Strange choice of actor for Poirot, really, but nevertheless, I loved the film. I also loved the David Suchet version. When I finally got round to buying the book, I was sooo disappointed. It felt flat, dull, lifeless. Maybe that’s appropriate for a book about murder? Anyway, I didn’t enjoy it.

So I finally, having been enthralled by And Then There Were None over Christmas, picked up my copy of the book and began. It’s quite short and very easy to read. However, I have to say, I think I enjoyed it a lot more because I could visualise the characters in my head from the programme. I don’t think Agatha Christie does characterisation very well. We don’t really get any insight into them, and they come across more as plot devices than actual fully-rounded people. Seeing them come to life on screen makes them much more interesting.

Having said that, the plot is first class. Agatha Christie is a master at her game. No one can match her. She really knows how to come up with amazing stories, with twists and turns and red herrings galore. And Then There Were None is probably her best. I remember watching an old black and white film version of the story years and years ago, when I was a child, and it had terrified the life out of me. I remember, even then, wondering what sort of a twisted mind could come up with that solution.

The setting is fantastic. An island off the Devon coast, cut off from the mainland due to bad weather. There is just one single house is on that island, and a group of people, who do not know each other, have all been invited to stay there by the mysterious U N Owen. The island soon becomes a prison, as one by one, the guests are murdered. As it becomes clear that there is no one else on the island, and that one of them is the murderer, the sense of fear and claustrophobia is palpable. They are trapped. They trust no one. They become paranoid and terrified.

With every one of them accused of heinous crimes,  each of them must face their pasts, and acknowledge their guilt. Someone is making them pay, but if they are all killers, who is it that is acting as executioner?

Christie cranks up the tension beautifully and her plotting is ingenious. I read through the book very quickly indeed, not wanting to put it down. Given that I already knew the outcome, that says something about the story! And Then There Were None is by far the best Agatha Christie novel I’ve read to date, and it’s made me want to give some of her other books a chance.

I would definitely recommend this to anyone looking for an amazing, terrifying, superbly-plotted murder mystery. Agatha Christie is the best-selling novelist of all time. And Then There Were None is the best clue as to why. 5/5

You can buy And Then There Were None here. 

A Post-Christmas Gift of a Kiss

Hope you all had a lovely Christmas! I had a hectic one and, quite frankly, I could happily sleep all day. I’m quite worn out, what with all those tears I shed for Doctor Who, Call the Midwife, Downton Abbey, and the perennial favourite, It’s a Wonderful Life.

So, before I nod off with a glass of snowball in one hand and a festive chocolate in the other, I’ll just let you know about A Kiss from a Rose, book two in the Kearton Bay series, which is FREE for five whole days, starting today (Boxing Day).

Catch up on the goings-on in this quaint old former smuggling village on the North Yorkshire coast, and find out what the straight talking Rose McLean has been up to, discover the secrets that her daughter Fuchsia is keeping, meet her appalling mother, and fall for the divine Finn Pennington-Rhys, who may just be harbouring a secret of his own…

You can get your free copy of A Kiss from a Rose here, and don’t forget, book one in the series, There Must Be An Angel, is just 99p!

Have a great final week of 2015!  xxx

Making a Baubles of it all…

Picture: Sarah Ackerman: The Grinch’s Holiday Workshop https://www.flickr.com/photos/sackerman519/8139519263

Merry Christmas! Well, merry Christmas week, anyway. It’s the nineteenth of December, and this will be my last blog post before the big day, so I’m taking the opportunity to wish you all a very happy and jolly day, with lots of presents and enough food to sink a luxury liner, and enough drink to float a luxury liner, and loads of love and laughter and all the usual Christmassy things that people wish each other – even people they don’t particularly like, or people who have really, really annoyed them this year, like say, just for example, Grinch-like bosses who’ve scrapped the Christmas bonus and not so much as chipped in for a bottle of something festive, or a box of chocolates or even a poxy card for their hard-working employees. Just for instance. *Cough*.

Anyway, enough of that. I’m quite sure that I can leave them to their fate and that, one night, they will be visited by three spirits who will show them the error of their ways.  In the meantime, I am getting on with my Christmas. As usual, it’s organised chaos, and I’m left staring at a pile of Christmas cards that I bought weeks ago, remembered to write on weeks ago, even bought stamps for weeks ago, but somehow completely forgot to post/hand to relatives/give to DH to deliver. It happens every year! And the weird thing is, I never find them afterwards, so I can’t even reuse them the following Christmas. How does that happen?

Even the Christmas tree looks dizzy!

I made an epic Christmas baubles of it all yesterday – even by my standards. I don’t know what’s going on in my peanut brain lately. I seem to be so distracted and forgetful and everything just slips away from me. I mean, I’ve known Christmas was coming for long enough. It’s not like it can sneak up on you unexpectedly, is it? Not when the tins of Quality Street are stacked up to the ceiling in the supermarket from the first of October, and you’re bombarded with Shakin’ Stevens wishing you a merry Christmas from the minute you step inside the store and have to endure him EVERY SINGLE TIME you shop for a whole twelve weeks. Anyway, I hate supermarket shopping so much that I’ve taken to ordering my stuff online. That’s not without its problems, but that’s for another post.

So, I decided that the Christmas shop would be no different. I’d book my delivery slot and the nice things would be delivered to my doorstep on Christmas Eve and all would be well with the world. Sainsbury’s even emailed me to tip me off that the delivery slots for Christmas week were being released, so as soon as I got the email, I went online and tried to book one. That’s when I discovered that deliveries weren’t made on Christmas Eve. Not only that, but some of the slots were already full, and the first one I could get was the twenty-second of December. Since that doesn’t coincide with pay day or my usual shopping day, I got thoroughly confused. Honestly! You know, years ago I would have taken all this in my stride. In fact, I wouldn’t have dreamed of doing my shopping online. (There was no such thing as online shopping. In fact, there was no such thing as online!) I would have taken all five of my children out with me and tackled the Christmas shop with a determined attitude and a list a mile long, and I would have got everything I needed with no problems. Now I just curl up in a ball and sob. It’s all too difficult! I can’t think straight!

Being unable to make sense of anything any more, I ended up booking a slot for the eighteenth, and then another for the twenty-seventh. I figured I could order my usual week’s shopping plus a few extras for Christmas Day and Boxing Day, and then have another week’s shopping delivered just after the big day to take me into New Year.  So why did it all go so wrong? What was I thinking???

I don’t know why, but for some reason I ordered lots of fresh food, like salad and fruit and pork pies and trifle, which all turned up yesterday on my doorstep. Sadly, I hadn’t taken into account the little matter of use by dates. It turned out that everything fresh I’d ordered would be out of date even before Christmas Eve. So that was useless. I’d also ordered a lot of frozen stuff, not thinking that I only have a fridge freezer these days, not my old chest freezer. So after the delivery man had left, I set to work putting everything away, only to sink onto the kitchen floor in a trembling heap twenty minutes later, after realising that I had a bag full of frozen food that I didn’t have any room for. I shoved the bag outside in the garden, hoping it would stay cold, while I tried to think what to do.

Luckily for me, while my brain cells seem to be diminishing rapidly, DH seems to finally have developed some. He came downstairs, saw the sorry state of affairs, and within ten minutes had completely rearranged the freezer and managed to put everything away. I could only look on and try to remember that once upon a time, I’d been the intelligent one.

Four doors opened this morning!

I’m now sitting here writing this, when really, I should be wrapping up presents. I hate wrapping up presents, but since DH wrapped a third of them and DD1 wrapped another third, it seems only fair that I wrap some. Unfortunately, I didn’t buy enough wrapping paper either, so I probably won’t get to finish the job today. I haven’t even started wrapping DH’s presents, and every time he goes upstairs I scream at him, “Don’t go in the spare bedroom,” because that’s where they are. Since he doesn’t go in the spare bedroom I don’t know why I say it anyway. I’ve even taken to whispering about the dog’s presents so she doesn’t know what she’s got. And, after making a huge fuss about buying an advent calendar without chocolate, just like the ones I had as a child, I finally got one just in time for December, and have forgotten to open the doors every single time. The result is that, every few days, I look at it in horror and open about five or six doors, barely registering the picture behind them. Hardly the image I had in my mind.

Honestly, I’d love to say it’s the stress of Christmas that’s making me act so weirdly, but the truth is I’ve been declining for a few years now. I used to be so organised and so in control. Now, with all the kids grown up and left home, I’m completely losing track. Well, they do insist on breeding and this family is expanding more than the Von Trapps. I have so many people to buy for now I don’t know where I am or what I’m doing, and since DH is working all over Christmas again and I’m working up until Christmas Eve afternoon and back again on the Tuesday, there doesn’t seem to be much time to plan, prepare or enjoy the festivities.

Ah, all will be well…

Still, the main thing is, I managed to get a bottle of advocaat, so the Christmas Snowball will be happening! There’s always a bright spot, and this is mine. A few glasses of that and I’ll be wearing a paper hat and singing Abba songs into a hairbrush and all will be well again. I’m easily pleased. Right, that’s my lot. I’m off to eat some pork pie and trifle. Hopefully, I’ll remember to put them on separate plates.

Have a great Christmas xxx

Author Spotlight – Sharon Booth

Thanks to Julie Stock for having me on her lovely blog today. I’m the last writer to feature in her author spotlight for 2015, so I feel very honoured!

Julie Stock - My Writing Life

My final author spotlight of 2015 falls on contemporary romance author, Sharon Booth. Sharon’s latest book is A Kiss from a Rose.

A Kiss from a Rose – Sharon Booth

Flynn Pennington-Rhys is the quiet man of Kearton Bay, so when he finds himself entangled in the chaotic life of Rose MacLean, his whole world turns upside down.

Rose is at a low ebb. With one daughter clearly harbouring a secret, another who has morphed overnight from Shirley Temple into Miley Cyrus, and a mother hell-bent on reliving her misspent youth with her childhood sweetheart, Alec, AKA Red Rum, it’s no wonder her self-esteem is at rock bottom. But when, on top of all this, her best friend goes on ovulation alert, and her slimming club leader has a meltdown, Rose needs someone she can rely on.

It seems, though, that Flynn has his own secret, and as events take an unexpected…

View original post 1,857 more words

Christmas at the Crescent by Veronica Henry

This is such a lovely book. I’ve never read a Veronica Henry story that I didn’t enjoy, and this “noella” was no exception.

I really liked the heroine of the story, Josie, and was rooting for her right through the book, hoping that she’d get her happy ending.

Initially, it seemed quite obvious who was going to be the hero of the story, but I quickly realised that things weren’t going to be as straightforward as I’d supposed. I was quite torn for a while. The great thing about this book was that the two men in Josie’s life weren’t black and white. There were good and bad things about both of them. Both were kind and loving at times, and both behaved selfishly and thoughtlessly at others. Overall, though, it became clear eventually who deserved Josie, and who she would be happy with.

I adored Titus, who was so gorgeous that I got quite broody! And I loved the resolution, which felt just right, and was a lovely, romantic ending. This book is so Christmassy and the setting is gorgeous. Having visited Bath I could really picture the Crescent, and the whole thing left me feeling very festive and contented.

One word of warning! Don’t read if you’re on a diet. The descriptions of the food in this book are truly mouth-watering, plus there are some delicious sounding recipes at the back. Other than that, this is a winner. I loved it. 5/5

Buy Christmas at the Crescent here.

One Wish in Manhattan by Mandy Baggot

You know that feeling you get when you close the book, or switch off the Kindle, and you lean back with a satisfied sigh, and a hint of a tear in your eye, and a smile on your face, because everything just suddenly feels completely right with the world? Yeah, that feeling. That’s what I just experienced after finishing this fantastic book, One Wish in Manhattan.

I honestly can’t think of anything I didn’t love about this book. My friend, Helen, has just come back from New York, and although I was pleased for her that she went because I knew how much it meant to her, I can’t say it filled me with envy. I’ve never really been that interested in New York and never had any hankering to visit the place for myself. Well, now I can see why she wanted to go, and why she loves it so much. Mandy Baggot’s descriptions of the city are amazing. The sights and sounds and smells of New York are right there in the pages, and I was transported there in my mind – crunching through snow, feeling the icy wind against my skin, laughing at the ice skaters, catching the scent of Italian food, tasting pizza and ice cream, gazing out from a penthouse balcony at the lights and the traffic and the people, travelling in an elevator with a…No, won’t even go there!

The heroine of the story, Hayley, is lovely. She would be my best friend. She can eat her body weight in pizza and she once ate a full bag of custard doughnuts, so she’s all right by me. I sympathised with her over her fraught relationship with her mother, the loss of her father, and the fact that she’d shelved her own dreams yet was desperate to make her daughter’s dream come true. I enjoyed her relationship with her brother, who was everything a caring big brother should be and more. Most of all, I adored her relationship with her daughter, Angel, who was a fantastic character. I loved reading the banter between them and felt the mother/daughter bond was beautifully depicted.

As for the hero. *Sigh*. Oliver Drummond, billionaire businessman with a bad reputation and a terrible secret. Who could love such a man? Well, Hayley, quite obviously. And me, as it goes. Oliver is one heck of a hunky hero, and there was something so vulnerable about him I just wanted to get into that elevator with him and – reassure him that all would be well. *Cough*.

Seriously, this is a fabulous book. All the main characters are likeable, some are definitely lovable, the plot is absorbing and well-developed, the setting is fantastic, and there’s lots of snow. And lots of food. And lots of…romance. An absolutely brilliant novel, perfect festive reading. Loved it! 5/5

You can buy One Wish in Manhattan here.

One Wish in Manhattan by Mandy Baggot

 

Christmas Story Free to Read!

My short story, The Other Side of Christmas, is now available to read on Wattpad here.

If you’re in the mood for a cosy, feel-good romance, set at Christmas, featuring a pretty country cottage, snow, and a rather gorgeous builder, then head over and read it for free.

Sharon xxx

Through the Instagram App and What Sharon Found There

sharon:

On the Write Romantics blog today, I’ve been investigating Instagram. And it’s not as straightforward as you think…Well, I am quite old.

Originally posted on thewriteromantics:

Recently, I joined a marketing group on Facebook, formed to help writers and small business owners (the businesses are small, not the owners—although, they may be small, too, who knows?) improve their public profile.

It’s a tough world out there, you know. I may be famous in my own back yard—as in, a new book brings a flurry of excitement from my mother, my mother’s neighbour, my sister and my aunt—but if I’m to make any impact on the world, or even my little corner of it, I have to get my name, and my work, “out there”, wherever the heck “there” may be.

We’ve been discussing social media. Are you on Twitter? Tick. Facebook? Tick. Do you have a Facebook author page? Tick. A blog? Tick. Pinterest? Tick. Instagram? Er, what, now?  “Ah, Instagram. The new, trendy app that simply anyone who is anyone is using.”  “

View original 1,774 more words