K. Velk's Blog, page 9

Strange, Fun Fragment of a Lost World

I know eight minutes is a lot of time to commit to anything from the Internet, but for those who like an odd little window on the past, I've got one for you that I especially enjoyed.

A couple of things that jumped out at me from this old movie short.  In addition to my affection for the look of the animated scenes of the brothel-cum-nightclub featured here, where sinful elephants, bears, and cows sway in time to the music with their rubbery limbs,  I was taken with how they cleared the dance floor so Betty Boop could present the evening's entertainment. (I have a similar scene in the book  set in the fictional London nightclub, The Ginger Jar- dancing ends, floor show starts, there's sin at the back of the house).  I liked the odd little confirmation of my research.  So hard to imagine the young people of today in tuxes and gowns out for a debauch...

Also of particular interest to me is the way this urged the audience to sing along to "Just a Gigolo."  This sing-along business has a long history (which I also mined for the book) and is not altogether dead.  Adele's concerts feature them, which is one reason I  view her, in part as a modern day iteration of the grand girl singer of the music hall.  The DNA, at least, is there...

So, for your viewing pleasure:

Re-Kindling

Yoo Hoo!  I am waving a hankie in your direction, though you can't see me.  I need to get your attention so you will know to download Up, Back, and Away for FREE from midnight August 30 to midnight September 2, 2013.  (Midnight Pacific time, that is).

That's Labor Day weekend, of course, and one last chance for the beach or hammock or what have you, so get your copy and tell your friends.  The way things work in publishing these days, the more free downloads the better so I am officially deputizing any stoppers-in here as literary agents for a long weekend.  If ten people tell ten people, and on like that.  I'd offer you the standard agent's take of 10 percent, but 10 percent of free is not much of an enticement.  I'm sure any helpers will enjoy karmic rewards in addition to the free book.



This is my second Kindle giveaway.  The first went very well - thanks for your support.  If you have your copy, well, see the above-reference to agenting and share the linky love.
Speaking of that last giveaway, it resulted in this nice review from the Book Gardener.  You might want to have a look at that if you're worried about getting a book in poke.  
The book signing went well, thanks for asking.  Sales were underwhelming but the social side of it was excellent and I enjoyed myself.  If you're one of those who stopped by but were put off by the $14.99 price tag of the paperback, here's your chance.
My big book news is that I am heading to England in September to see some of the real places that inspired the fictional places named in the book.  I blogged about that over on my other blog.  Right here.
Thanks.  See you on Labor Day Weekend.

Review of Neil Gaiman's Ocean at the End of the Lane

The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


I'm a big Gaiman fan and always pleased to have a new Gaiman book to read. This one was fun (with the usual sharp edge of a child or two in mortal danger). The menacing figure was complex in a satisfying way and the protagonist, boy and man, someone to cheer for. My only dissatisfaction was that it is a bit thin - literally. I ordered a signed hardback copy and when it arrived, happy as I was for the signature, I was a little disappointed to see it was more like a plumped out novella than a proper novel.

Since we are talking about a writer with a significant body of work it's hard to resist putting this somewhere on the Gaiman quality scale so I won't - resist, that is. I would say not as good as The Graveyard Book, which is still my Gaiman favorite, or Neverwhere. Still, I wouldn't have missed it and I'm glad that I didn't.



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Review: Memoirs of a Fox Hunting Man

Memoirs of a Fox-Hunting Man by Siegfried Sassoon

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


It has been a couple of years since I read this book but it left a deep impression and I commend it to everyone. It is a semi-autobiographical novel that tells one man's experience at the end of England's Edwardian summer. Sassoon, and so many others and so much more, went over the cliff in World War One. It is the first of the three books known as the Sherston trilogy. They are all excellent, but this one is the pick of the litter of prize winners. Sassoon was a poet too, of course, and a great one. He writes like an angel. Below is one of my favorite passages. It comes just near the end of the book as Sherston is thinking back to the period of time on the Western front, shortly after the death of his best friend.

"I can see myself sitting in the sun in a nook among the sandbags and chalky debris behind the support line. There is a strong smell of chloride of lime. I am scraping the caked mud off my wire-torn puttees with a rusty entrenching tool. Last night I was out patrolling with Private O'Brien, who used to be a dock labourer at Cardiff. We threw a few Mills' bombs at a German working-party who were putting up some wire and had no wish to do us any harm. Probably I am feeling pleased with myself about this. Now and and again a leisurely five-nine shell passes overhead in the blue air where the larks are singing. The sound of the shell is like water trickling into a can. The curve of its trajectory sounds peaceful until the culminating crash. A little weasel runs past my outstretched feet, looking at me with tiny bright eyes, apparently unafraid. One of our shrapnel shells, whizzing over to the enemy lines, bursts with a hollow crash. Against the clear morning sky a cloud of dark smoke expands and drifts away. Slowly its dingy wrestling vapours take the form of a hooded giant with clumsy expostulating arms. Then, with a gradual gesture of acquiescence, it lolls sideways, falling over into the attitude of a swimmer on his side. And so it dissolved into nothingness. Perhaps the shell has killed someone. Whether it has or whether it hasn't, I continue to scrape my puttees, and the weasel goes about his business."






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Live and In-Person: Bear Pond Books, Stowe - August 17

Jane Faintly, my New York publicist, just sent me this press release with strict instructions to post it here. (If you don't like it, blame Jane F. and remember, I didn't have a big publicity budget. [FYI, Jane works for peanuts but she is very stern]).

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

NEW YORK - The international book trade has been wondering for months about the elusive K. Velk, author of the time-travel adventure story, Up, Back and Away.  Who is she, really?  Why does she keep her clamoring readership at arms length?  Well, answers may be had, and soon.

It has been said of Velk that she is so retiring that she makes the famously reclusive J.D. Salinger look like a Kardashian sister. Now, in an astonishing volte-face, this veritable Willie Wonka unicorn of an author, has announced that she is emerging from her cone of silence on Saturday, August 17 to sign copies of Up, Back, and Away at Bear Pond Books on Main Street in Stowe, Vermont.  

Velk will be coming down out of her mountainside hideaway on that day from 11 AM to 1 PM to sign paperbacks. "If anyone wants one, that is," Velk said.  "Assuming there is not a line down the street, which is a fairly safe assumption," she added, "I'm just as happy to chat with people, take questions about the book, or about how they might write and produce their own book. Maybe I'll bring some butterscotch candies or something.  Maybe a thermos of tea.  Maybe the first five people or so can have the tea.  The candy should hold out for the full three hours."

Here's a link to the Bear Pond Facebook page for more info: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bear-Pond-Books-Stowe/232454216764792

Thumbs Up From Canada

I don't really need another reason to love Canada.  I feel demi-Canadian myself, but I got one today anyway.

Here's a link to a fresh and lovely new review of the book (or, as I think of it THE BOOK) from the Ontario-based book blogger (and exquisitely perceptive genius) the Teatime Reader.  She's a children's librarian by day so I am particularly gratified to get a nod of approval.

Book bloggers today largely occupy the space once taken by newspaper book review supplements and book review sections. Those have all but disappeared, but there are lots of amazing reviewers who have taken up the slack.  I am very pleased to have these bloggers take note, especially since I am not really kidding about how good they are.  Did I post link earlier to another nice review over at A Garden Carried in the Pocket earlier this spring?  Can't remember, but while we're on the subject, here's that.

All right. I ought to do something nice for you, gentle reader, for having stopped in and listened to me trumpet about my reviews.  Since I am feeling grateful to Canada again today, I have just the thing.

Some months ago I was moving pictures around in my new house and my attention was drawn to a letter I received more than 25 years ago from the great Canadian writer Robertson Davies.

Of course "Morgan Davies" the Professor Emeritus and owner of the Britannic Wheelman in Up, Back, and Away was heavily influenced by the late, great Robertson Davies.

I have always valued the letter highly, but it had become a fixture in its little box frame and I hadn't stopped to consider it in a long while.  Before I re-hung it,  I re-read it and decided that this relic of the pre-internet days should be shared.  I scanned the letter and wrote a blog post about it then over on my other blog.  I had the bright idea one late night this spring to send a link to the post to Margaret Atwood, whom I follow on Twitter (me along with a significant portion of the English-reading world).  She re-tweeted it, and the response was quite impressive.  Anyway, while I am feeling all grateful to Canada again today, and as a reward for you who have read to the end here today, here's a link to that lovely, wise letter.  

Talismans

I am superstitious, about the usual, stupid things. I don't like the number thirteen.  Tails-up coin on the floor? DON'T PICK IT UP! Black cat crossing path? Change course! If I spill some salt, I make it better by throwing more salt on the floor, over my left shoulder. I make my kids do the same thing, which I am sure will be a big help to them down the road.

The post before this one (re: "Giveaway Weekend!"), was post number thirteen on this blog.  

Irksome.  Possibly dangerous.  

True, the weekend went quite well and thanks to all of you who downloaded the Kindle book.

Now, to make sure that those of you who procured it will like it, I am back here with post number fourteen.  (The flip side of this particular symptom of a weak mindedness is that I also have a belief in lucky charms. If some things are unlucky, others are lucky, right?)  

Here though, I am a little more original.  No rabbits feet or four leaf clovers for me.  As I was writing Up, Back, and Away, I surrounded myself with bits of English things that I felt would beam genius at me, or at least a little inspiration.  I wrote it in a few different places.  Mostly in this cabin behind our farmhouse.


I kept certain things near me in there like this:

This plate and one of its mates hang on the wall in the cabin, right over my writing desk.  (English pottery, particularly English transferware, has a role to play in the story and I have LOTS of it - don't start me).

I also had the works of Shakespeare, in a gimcrack 19th century multi-volume set, on the book case behind me.  I had an old Union Jack, the sort people might wave at a parade, stuck into a salt-glazed jug made by T.J. Mayer, Longport and dated 1851 on my writing table.

I had this stamp (and its penny and a half companion) in a little frame on the window sill:

I had these guys.  They MUST be lucky:
I had this 1917 pound note on my desk in a protective plastic sleeve.  It's just like the ones Miles brings with him on his journey.

And I had this: the original "Banded Stone."
You'll have to read the story, maybe on that free Kindle download, to find out what this is all about.  
These rocks are common in some places in Vermont.  I encountered them at one of my favorite places in the world, Shelburne Farms in Shelburne, Vermont.  If any place has magic, Shelburne Farms has magic.  I dragged my kids there one day while I was deep into writing the story and made them round up some choice examples to inspire me.  This is the one I actually wound up describing in the book. 
Lucky?  
I can't help feeling so.
Thanks again for your interest.  I hope you will enjoy the book as much as I liked writing it. Fingers crossed.

Review of Ian Mcewan's On Chesil Beach

On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan

My rating: 5 of 5 stars


[N.B. I am posting some reviews that I first wrote for my blog back before Goodreads, in 2008. They are slightly edited in their Goodreads form but not much and all were written contemporaneous with my reading (or listening)].

I loved this book - squirm making as it may be. I fled to it after abandoning the over-rated People of the Book [by Geraldine Brooks, which I've also reviewed). This is read by McEwan himself and the contrast between this and Brook's audiobook was immediate and apparent. That contrast it mostly what compelled this post. BEWARE - POTENTIAL SPOILERS AHEAD. HERE'S YOUR STOPPING PLACE IF YOU HAVEN'T READ IT YET.

Over 4 CDs McEwan unfolds the story of the wedding night of a pair of nice 22-year-old English people in 1962. The central fact of their existence at the moment is that they are both virgins. Also, they have grown up in a time and place that completely constrains them from talking about this difficulty. The story goes back and forth from their hotel room, where we get excruciating detail of their attempt at first marital intimacy, to the "backstory: their origins and lives so far. My colleague, after reading this post, pointed out to me that there is a hint that the woman was sexually abused by her father as a child. I had almost missed that but it's true. Since the girl's feelings toward her father seem otherwise equable, and there is next to no discussion of it in her internal monologue, I didn't assume a childhood horror, but it is there as a possiblity.

The interior state of each character is precisely and acutely rendered. McEwan's descriptions of all he touches upon are accurate and economical. He makes an excellent reader as well. The reviewer in the New York Times says McEwan has a "dazzling authority" and I agree. It was this authority that struck me so forcefully when I decamped from The People of the Book and landed On Chesil Beach. "Here I am in the hands of a real master," I thought, before McEwan read through the second paragraph.

As for the story (beware, more partial spoilers ahead) Florence, the bride, is convinced that her low libido means there is something wrong with her; she's a freak of nature and it will soon be revealed to her everlasting horror and shame. The boy, Edward, and at 22 he is a boy, is as pent up as he can be, trying to behave well, trying to read the signals rightly. Painful as it all is, I had to laugh.

I am not sure if McEwan intended that particular laughter. Some of it is meant to be comic,surely; Florence thinks of Edward's "early arrival" as so horrific, worse than if he had burst his jugular vein. Did he not mean us to laugh at that? Much ado about nothing? At the end of my audio version McEwan is interviewed briefly. He tells how he read one part of this agonized sex scene to an audience in Surrey (I believe) in England. The audience sat in complete (probably horrified) silence through it all. When he read the same scene to a Palo Atlo, California audience (where Stanford University is), many women in the audience burst into laughter. He attributed this laughter to his having struck a raw nerve, eliciting a kind of hysteria. I think what he actually got was the predictable response of a roomful of educated women remembering their own anxiety and the high drama regarding their passage out of virginity. Years down the road it is hard not to laugh at the ridiculous girl you were. Or maybe some of the Stanford audience just couldn't believe anyone would ever take such a thing so very seriously. I don't think, in any case, that it was nerves that made the women of Palo Alto laugh.

The book was too short for me. (Another contrast from People of the Book). My one complaint is that the ending, after such a true-seeming story, seemed false to me. I won't give it away completely; suffice it to say that Edward and Florence do not do what nervous young people in real life typically manage in the end. This rang a false note. Also, there is a tacked on post-script that focuses only on Edward, after having given equal time to both characters previously. I was sorry about that. In some ways this postscript is what gives the story a point; a sort of "road not taken" final analysis. But this seems banal coming from a talent like McEwan. Still, I admired it immensely and was glad to have stumbled on it.



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Review of Helen Mirren's In the Frame

In The Frame by Helen Mirren

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


[N.B. I am posting a few reviews that I wrote back in 2008 for my blog. I wrote them contemporaneously with finishing the books, long before Goodreads. I thought they might be of some use here so I am reposting with slight edits to fit the Goodreads format].

I have written about Mirren and my general admiration for her before. After I saw the movie "The Queen," I was in one my periodic bloggish raptures. (http://lasthouse.blogspot.com/2006/12...),

It is interesting to hear from her directly and unmediated in this book. (It feels like she actually wrote this herself and that it was not ghostwritten). The book is not a tell-all, thank goodness. It is an older woman's loving look back at the places and people she remembers - an older woman who has had a remarkable career, obviously. Her manners are too good to bash people or to trumpet herself. What interested me particularly were her Russian origins. Her grandfather was a Russian aristocrat stranded in England by the Russian revolution. There are some striking pictures of her Russian ancestors in the first few pages. She had the most beautiful great aunts...

Also of interest, and a bit of a surprise, was that she was her English hippy phase. I got to know about Mirren only in the 90s with Prime Suspect. I knew, vaguely, that she had been a famous stage actress and had some history as a sex bomb in the sixties but I had no details. It turns out that once upon a time she actually travelled around North Africa with a crew of actors who performed for the locals some kind of experimental dumb-show theater. Even when I was 19 this would have sounded like a complete horror to me. Artsy fartsys from France and England and Japan torturing tiny, bewildered audiences, sleeping in tents, jouncing over bumpy desert roads. Mirren hints that this was not all such a great experience but is also clear it had its rewards. She had a lot of boyfriends; she took off her clothes (there are some topless shots here). Who knew? I think of her as The Queen or Jane Tennison but she had a life those characters would not hint at.

I also found myself wondering, noting her obvious restraint about her own success, what her peers would say about her as she was way back then. I expect the hippies she remembers so fondly would have been jealous of her. I also expect they would have been impressed, maybe even put off by, her ambition. She could not have got where she is without a lot of that.

She writes a little soupily but with feeling at the end of the book about her extended family. She married Taylor Hackford, an American producer, rather late in life. She never wanted marriage and a family as a young woman but she has one now - albeit of the stepson and niece and nephew variety. It seems that they mean a great deal to her.




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Freeeeeeeeee!

I heard that little pig in the Geico commercial when I typed that headline.

Anyway dear people, the BOOK is free to download on your Kindle or Kindle App today and tomorrow (June 14 and 15),  So please get yours and tell your friends.  If you like it, feel freeeeeeeeee to write a review on Amazon.  If you don't, well, you can tell me or maybe just keep that to yourself.  (I'm smiling as I write this but inside I am all steel).

Happy Father's Day.

Here's a link to the freebie for my countrymen.

And here's a link for all my friends in Blighty (Amazon.uk).

Thank you all.