Callum McLaughlin's Blog, page 44
February 28, 2018
February Wrap Up
All the books I read in February
As February comes to a close, it’s time for another wrap up. I finished 10 books throughout the past month, bringing my total for the year so far up to 19. Here are some thoughts on each of them, in the order I read them.
My Absolute Darling by Gabriel Tallent
[ 
] The beauty of Tallent’s vibrant and expressive prose formed an effective contrast with the dark and often brutal nature of the subject matter being explored here. Focussing on an abusive father-daughter relationship, he didn’t shy away from both the mental and physical impacts such a dynamic can have. For a long book (and one so heavy in content), I flew through it, so that must say something for how readable his prose is, but I didn’t feel the emotional payoff of the ending was as strong as it could have been. I also thought that towards the end, it spiralled towards being needlessly dramatized and gratuitous, flirting with possible sensationalism.
A Kiss Before Dying by Ira Levin
[ ] This book gave me tingles from the off; that elusive feeling that tells you you’re going to love something – and love this I most certainly did. The plotting of this sinister tale was masterful. Levin consistently got the balance of what he did and didn’t tell the reader spot on, allowing him to build tension at all the right moments, to establish a tone of mounting dread, and to keep the reader on their toes with great characters and brilliantly delivered twists that culminate in a perfectly satisfying conclusion. Clever, intricate and damn thrilling to read, this is a fantastic example of crime and suspense at their very best.
The Lady in the Looking Glass by Virginia Woolf
[ ] Woolf is an author I really want to like but just can’t get into. I hoped I’d have better luck with her short fiction, but none of the 5 stories in this collection did anything for me, sadly. With a few, I could see and appreciate what she was doing thematically, but the others were a struggle to even get through in all honesty. It’s a shame, but we can’t like ‘em all, I suppose.
The Book of Joan by Lidia Yuknavitch
[ ] Yuknavitch’s prose held moments of real beauty, and this was another book that I flew through. I thought it was very clever to use such an old story (Joan of Arc) as the basis for a futuristic story, that in turn speaks volumes about our own times. There was a lot that I loved about it thematically, as it explores notions of gender, sexuality, man’s destruction of the Earth, and the role of storytelling in both survival and in documenting history. However, I felt Yuknavitch became too heavy handed with these themes, with the allegorical imagery and potentially preachy tone threatening to swallow the plot in favour of the messages she so obviously wanted to convey, leaving things feeling a bit messy overall.
The Princess Diarist by Carrie Fisher
[ ] Carrie Fisher was a natural born storyteller, and these pages ooze with her trademark wit, warmth, zingy one liners, and playful turn of phrase. The inclusion of the diaries she kept as a 19-year-old during the production of the first Star Wars (and her fling with Harrison Ford) offered a surprisingly poignant insight into a vulnerability we didn’t associate with Carrie’s vibrant and confident self later in life.
Vixen by Rosie Garland
[ ] With her ornamental prose, Garland captured the atmosphere of the rural 1300s setting and the backdrop of the encroaching Black Death very well. There was something about the whole feel of the story that I liked, and once again for a big book, I sped through it. Lots of interesting themes and ideas were touched on (like corrupt religious power, historic gay relationships, and gender roles) but I felt like none of them were pushed as far as they could have been. That said, I did enjoy its look at the enduring nature of love and the questioning of faith when the two are put under immense pressure.
Lullaby by Le їla Slimani
[ ] This book opens in the wake of the story’s powerful and shocking climax, in which a seemingly perfect nanny has murdered two children. The actual reading of the book was perfectly fine, but I have to admit it just never really went anywhere beyond the power of its striking opening scene. It threw up so much potential in terms of examining the events that led to the climax; the disturbed psyche of the nanny; or the grief of the aftermath – but sadly we didn’t really get any of that. Though we do go back and see the events leading up to the murders, nothing that occurred felt convincing or satisfying enough to explain why she was pushed to such actions, or to provide some kind of closure or emotional payoff. Meh…
Wonderland by Kirsty Mitchell
[ ] As a physical object, this is easily the highest quality, most beautifully produced book I own. As for the content, Mitchell’s photography is absolutely stunning; full of impeccable attention to detail and rich thematic meaning. The project began when her mother was diagnosed with terminal cancer, with the series serving as Mitchell’s solace from the pain of the real world, and a means to honour her mother’s memory by bringing to life the stories she told her as a child. Each image is a world of its own, full of mesmerising beauty, and yet tinged with something darker. They all weave together to tell one ongoing narrative of life, death and healing, and the project is testament to the power of art as a means of escapism, and the wonder of channelling emotion into something meaningful and transporting.
Murder is Easy by Agatha Christie
[ ] This may not be considered one of Christie’s all-time classics, but I found it such an enjoyable read. I loved the concept, and that we jumped right into the grips of the story with no undue fuss. The set-up of a lone character trying to penetrate a rural, small village was great, and she captured the everyone-knows-everyone-else’s-business kind of atmosphere really well. It wasn’t perfect (there were a few coincidences, and a small romance sub-plot that felt a little rushed at first), but I had a lot of fun reading it. I spotted a major red herring right away, and thought I had it all wrapped up way ahead of time… Alas, she got me again.
The Imaginary by A.F. Harrold, illustrated by Emily Gravett
[ ] This middle grade novel didn’t blow me away by any stretch, but it was a fun palate cleanser of sorts with some great ideas in it. The concept of a villain that hunts imaginary friends is fantastic, and there were a couple of well executed, creepy scenes. The fact that imaginary friends forgotten by their children go to libraries to survive (because that’s where imagination lives) is a rather beautiful notion that I’m sure will strike a chord with bookworms of any age.
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Though a bit of a mixed bag in terms of ratings, February was a very enjoyable reading month overall, and I look forward to seeing what books March will bring my way.
What was your favourite read in February?
February 22, 2018
Women in Fiction | Leia Organa
Leia Organa
Everyone’s favourite Princess-turned-General, Star Wars’ Leia Organa was a force to be reckoned with from the moment she first appeared on screen, flipping stereotypes on their head from the off, and refusing to be the damsel in distress. In her first scenes, as her ship is breached and she’s taken prisoner, she doesn’t cower; instead, she fires her blaster gun at the bad guys, smuggles out a message to the good guys, and serves unadulterated sass to her captors. Thus, a legend was born.
Taking control of her own would-be rescue, and telling the men how it should be done, she was never forced to play second fiddle; she was truly the heroine of the saga. That said, and despite being a trailblazer for strong women when there were so very few in fiction, there’s no denying that Leia was sexualised (we all remember the metal bikini), but the true power of that scene isn’t how good Carrie Fisher looks, it’s the fact that Leia strangles her abductor with the very chains he used to try and bind her. She doesn’t need men to rescue her. Nor does she need a flashy lightsaber or even The Force. No, all she needs is her bare hands and a determination to survive.
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Carrie said it best herself…
Though it’s Leia of the original trilogy that most of us think of with the most nostalgia, Leia of the later movies is just as inspiring – if not, more so. Having dedicated her life to fighting the good fight, Leia is still on the front lines some 40ish years later. Older, wiser, but still snarky as hell, she’s not only a member of the Resistance; she’s its founder and leading General. Leia is quite literally the boss; an inspirer of hope throughout the Galaxy.
Wary of avoiding specific spoilers for the most recent film, suffice it to say that The Last Jedi lets us see another side of Leia, tapping into whole new realms of strength in more ways than one; stoic in her measured yet maternal leadership, but also vulnerable and human in the wake of her years of loss. And speaking of that loss, let’s just take a moment to appreciate that by this point, Leia has lost pretty much everyone and everything she loves (her home planet and adoptive parents have been destroyed; Han is dead; her brother is missing; her son has gone to the Dark Side) and not only is she still leading with strength and conviction, but not once has she been so much as tempted by the Dark Side herself, despite her strong Force connections – putting those Skywalker men to shame, you might say.
With the untimely and tragic loss of Carrie Fisher, Leia’s ultimate fate remains to be seen. We can only hope they do a true screen icon the justice she deserves. Whatever the outcome, may The Force be with her, always.
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“To me, she’s royalty.”
February 13, 2018
Book to Film | Strangers on a Train
Strangers on a Train’s book cover (left) and film poster (right)
Having read the book and seen a stage version of Strangers on a Train so recently, it seemed only right to complete the trio by watching the famous Alfred Hitchcock film adaptation as well.
There was much that I enjoyed about the film, and many attributes that made it a very good conversion to the big screen. It felt very faithful in tone to the original text, particularly with regards to the overall concept and the narrative of the first half – more so than the play I saw, which favoured a camper tone over the tension Patricia Highsmith set out to create with the book.
That said, Hitchcock wasn’t at all afraid to deviate from certain aspects of Highsmith’s story. Chief amongst these has to be the omission of one of the key murder scenes. By having Guy not go through with the murder of Bruno’s father, the dynamic of the second half shifts dramatically. Whilst in Highsmith’s version of events, the two characters are drawn inexorably towards each other and seem almost to merge into one being as the story progresses, exploring notions of obsession and guilt, Hitchcock’s version establishes a much clearer divide between ‘good’ and ‘bad’, eliminating the moral ambiguity of Guy and presenting him very much as the hero of the piece that we’re supposed to get behind.
This change means that the latter portion of the story becomes a race against time between the two, with Guy having to outsmart an increasingly unhinged Bruno before he is framed for the murder that did go ahead; the role of the police greatly reduced. I must say, I felt this actually resulted in a better sense of building tension than the book, culminating in a more clear-cut climax. Even if this climax verges on the ridiculous by modern standards, there’s no denying it’s a more dramatic and visually striking final sequence than was present on the page. The book went in for deeper psychological analysis of what it takes to commit a crime and then live with it, whilst the film follows the path of a more traditional thriller.
Though I found the decision to make Guy a well-known tennis player rather than an architect a little odd at first, it did serve to speed up the initial meeting between the eponymous strangers, and it worked as a handy plot device later in the story to build more tension.
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The film’s cast. Top row: Farley Granger, Ruth Roman & Robert Walker. Bottom row: Patricia Hitchcock, Leo G. Carroll, Laura Elliot & Marion Lorne.
As for the characterisation, the homoerotic undertones between the two male leads was indeed still present, though definitely toned down. I found Anne less warm in the film than I did in the book; her role reduced largely to that of a stoic beauty without much impact. The sub-plot of Bruno’s alcoholism is removed, though his is still an enigmatic character that initially sits on the fence between anti-hero and full-blown villain, before landing firmly in the villainous camp. It is in fact Bruno’s eccentricity that carries the whole film, as it did the book, with Robert Walker understated though very convincing in the role.
To me, it was actually the supporting cast that stood out in terms of the performances, however. Patricia Hitchcock (yes, Alfred’s real-life daughter) and Laura Elliot were both great in their roles as Anne’s bold and amusing sister, Barbara, and Guy’s flirtatious though ultimately doomed ex, Miriam, respectively. Marion Lorne also made great comic impact with her role as Bruno’s mother.
There are some fantastic and creative cinematic moments, courtesy of Hitchcock’s distinct directorial style, and though it was due to the era of production more than anything, the black and white visuals served to enhance the old-school crime-noir tone of the story.
Having now seen both a play and a film that drastically changed the final outcome of the story in different ways, it seems Ms Highsmith’s book is destined not to receive a truly faithful adaptation, but that didn’t stop me enjoying this version for what it is.
February 5, 2018
Two Tags for the Price of One
I’ve got a couple of tags I need to catch up on, so thought I may as well be proactive and combine them into a single post. First is the Get to Know Me Tag, which I was kindly invited to do by Satou Johns @ Inkish Kingdoms. Let’s jump right into the questions:
FAVORITE COLOR AND DO YOU HAVE A BOOK IN THAT COLOR?
My favourite colour is probably a deep blue, akin to this beautiful Waterstone’s exclusive edition of The Essex Serpent. I really must read this sometime soon…
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The Essex Serpent by Sarah Perry
DESCRIBE YOURSELF IN 3 BOOK CHARACTERS
When that ‘describe yourself in 3 characters’ tag was going around a while back, these were my choices, so whilst not all of them are technically book characters, I stand by my decision. I think they pretty much speak for themselves.
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Seems about right…
HYPED BOOKS YAY OR NAY? IF YAY, WHAT WAS THE MOST HYPED BOOK YOU EVER READ? IF NAY, WHAT WAS THE MOST HYPED BOOK YOU DECIDED NOT TO READ?
Generally, nay. I read pretty widely, but at the same time I know what genres I like, so I wouldn’t pick something up that didn’t appeal to me purely because it was hyped. Too much self-inflicted hype can also damage a book for me, which is always a horrible feeling.
I rarely read YA, and a lot of the most hyped books on book blogs/booktube channels tend to be within that area, so I guess the most well-known examples I’ve not picked up would be anything by super popular YA authors like Sarah J. Maas or Cassandra Clare.
RECOMMEND ONE BOOK PER SEASON. SPRING. SUMMER. FALL. WINTER.
Spring: Spring makes me think of baby animals, and so what better than a book full of gorgeous illustrations of baby animals by one of my favourite artists? Thus, my pick is Flying the Nest by Hannah Dale.
Summer: Little Deaths by Emma Flint is set during a stiflingly hot summer, and the building, sticky heat of the setting is used to cleverly mirror the mounting pressure and strain the book’s anti-heroine is under.
Fall: I haven’t read it yet myself, but Autumn by Ali Smith is an obvious choice, since that’s what we call Fall in the UK, and it’s precisely when the book is set. Plus, the cover is suitably autumnal. (SIDE NOTE AND POTENTIALLY STUPID QUESTION: Do Americans use the word autumnal, even though they don’t call it autumn? I’ve never thought about that before. Answers on a postcard please. Or, you know, the comments section would do.)
Winter: I’m going to pick Sweetgirl by Travis Mulhauser. I read it this winter and thought the cold, snowy, isolated setting was captured very well, and the dark tone of the story suits the mood of the season. A perfect, pacy read to curl up with by the fire.
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My seasonal recommendations.
NAME ONE BOOK THAT WRECKED YOU EMOTIONALLY
Jo Cox: More in Common is a biography of a British MP and humanitarian campaigner who was murdered in 2016 in an act of terror because of her pro-EU views, written by her husband, Brendan Cox. It’s so tender, insightful and full of the love and respect Brendan obviously had for his wife. She was a remarkable person who achieved so much in her short life, and the more I learnt about her whilst reading this, the sadder I became that politics (and society in general, really – not to mention her two young children) had lost such a positive life force who genuinely wanted to do good in the world.
NAME ONE BOOK YOU WOULD RECOMMEND WITH TEA AND COOKIES?
This makes me think of something immersive that will sweep you up, hence stocking up on snacks and cosying in with a cuppa. My go to recommendation for such a book is Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier; a masterclass of brooding atmosphere that you just want to lose yourself in.
WHAT IS YOUR GUILTY PLEASURE BOOK?
I do enjoy a good middle grade novel every now and then when I’m in the mood for something with a nostalgic feel that is an easy read, but I don’t think I ought to feel too guilty about that 
January 31, 2018
January Wrap Up
All the books I read in January
With almost a month behind us, it’s time for the first wrap up of the year. Throughout January, I finished a total of 9 books, and so without further ado, here are some thoughts on each of them, in the order I read them.
Sweetgirl by Travis Mulhauser
[ ] A highly readable, page-turning read to kick off the year, Sweetgirl had a cinematic quality to it. The plot follows a teenage girl who inadvertently becomes embroiled in a dangerous cat-and-mouse chase when she rescues a baby from a drug den whilst searching for her mother before a big storm hits. The cold, bleak and isolated setting was painted very well, and though there were a few instances of coincidence and melodrama, I enjoyed the dark tone.
Strangers on a Train by Patricia Highsmith
[ ] Though the catalyst of the book is a crime (two men who agree upon a chance meeting to each kill someone on behalf of the other), the focus is far more on the introspective look at madness and the effects of living a life ruled by secrets. Highsmith’s prose was very good, and I thought the homoerotic undertones between the two main characters added an interesting extra layer of depth to the themes of obsession and a desire to break free. Plot-wise, however, I felt it needed a bit more oomph; it follows a path you will no doubt expect, and personally, I think it would have benefitted from catching the reader off guard a little more.
A Slip Under the Microscope by H.G. Wells
[ ] These two short stories by Wells are very different plot-wise, but thematically they both urge us to go against the grain every now and then; to follow our hearts instead of our heads and revel in a little risk-taking. The title story very effectively poses a thought-provoking moral question; is honesty really always the best policy? It’s the companion story, The Door in the Wall that I adored, however. In gorgeous, vivid prose, Wells writes a poignant cautionary tale about not shutting yourself off from the wonder of the imagination, using a perfectly pitched hint of the fantastical. He discusses how, as we get older, we feel an increasing obligation to put our responsibilities over our heart’s desire, and in doing so, deprive ourselves of the joy and beauty that is a childlike lust for adventure, risk and creativity.
Stay with Me by Ayòbámi Adébáyò
[ ] Literary fiction meets family drama, with a hint of an almost-thriller, Stay with Me centres around a Nigerian couple who have been unable to conceive a child, who are put under increasing pressure to welcome a second wife into their home to ensure to continuation of the male bloodline. From there, the plot takes many unexpected turns, and ultimately asks us to consider if love and hope are enough to overcome grief. It’s beautifully written, features brilliantly flawed and fleshed-out characters, and the themes of womanhood, and the pressures of societal norms and gender expectations are handled excellently.
Leonora Carrington: Surrealism, Alchemy and Art by Susan Aberth
[ ] Leonora Carrington is a surrealist artist and writer. Though I was already a fan of her artwork, I was keen to learn more about her as a person. This analysis of her fascinating life and work is accompanied by high quality images of many of her pieces, and was exactly the sort of thing I was looking for. Known for being private, however, I would say there’s a degree of conjecture from Aberth involved, particularly where the inspiration and meaning behind certain works are concerned. I didn’t mind this, I just feel it’s worth pointing out in case a complete lack of bias is important to you in non-fiction.
Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto
[ ] Kitchen is a great if slightly odd tale about the duality of life and death, and the finding of true family. The characters are wonderful and instantly endearing, and there’s an almost serene atmosphere throughout that lends it a somewhat calming, gentle and bittersweet quality. Though this is to its credit in some respects, I must say it left me wondering about how powerful the story could have been had the emotion of the narrative been brought into sharper focus. The companion story, Moonlight Shadow, has a similarly strange and almost ethereal tone, and deals with the same themes of life, death and loneliness. With a heavier dose of more overt magical realism, it is a meditation on the need to accept loss if you are to be able to move on.
The Hollow by Agatha Christie
[ ] In comparison to the other Christie novels I’ve read so far, The Hollow admittedly doesn’t feature the best plot or ‘twist’ per se. It is, however, the most contemplative when it comes to character and theme, with the author really allowing herself the time to explore the concept of truth; the need for it; the inability to cope with it; the responsibility of it; and, indeed, the potential danger of it. As ever, it was still a compelling whodunit, with a brilliantly playful use of foreshadowing and a delightfully complex web of secrets and lies entangling the characters.
A Pale View of Hills by Kazuo Ishiguro
[ ] A Pale View of Hills is a strangely hypnotic exploration of distorted memories, the power of a first-person narrative, and how manipulative the two can be. It’s a thought-provoking read that opens itself up to many possible interpretations and leaves you wondering about the true nature of the book’s supposed heroine long after you turn the final page.
The Spinning Heart by Donal Ryan
[ ] The Spinning Heart has a fascinating and unique structure, with every one of its chapters told from the perspective of a different character. One ongoing story is woven together through their various viewpoints, and this coupled with the way Ryan paints the atmosphere of an entire town decimated by the recession is a fantastic technical achievement. He’s also a master of imbuing his characters and scenes with emotion and gut-punch twists, making you feel instantly invested in them. The book had its flaws, however, and really would be best read in a single sitting, as subtleties and connections between the many characters are inevitably lost when read sporadically.
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January was certainly a great start to my reading year overall, and I’m excited to see what books February will bring my way.
What was your favourite read in January?
January 27, 2018
Strangers on a Train | Theatre Review
Show: Strangers on a Train
Venue: Theatre Royal, Glasgow
Date: 25th January 2018
Director: Anthony Banks
Writer: Craig Warner (based on the novel by Patricia Highsmith)
Cast: Chris Harper (Charles Bruno), Jack Ashton (Guy Haines), Hannah Tointon (Anne Faulkner), John Middleton (Arthur Gerard) and Helen Anderson (Elsie Bruno)
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Strangers on a Train
Another show seen, and another case of mixed feelings. Having very recently read the Patricia Highsmith novel of the same name that inspired the play, the source material was fresh in my mind. For better or worse, this meant every alteration in tone and plot felt heightened, and it has to be said there were a fair few.
I shall of course avoid spoilers, but suffice it to say the ending was drastically altered, completely changing the lasting impression of the story. It’s not to say I don’t understand the need to make changes from time-to-time in a screen or stage adaptation, nor is it to say I didn’t like the climax of the play (it was, in fact, the most engaging part of the entire show), it’s just that, as a bookworm, I always feel a sense of loyalty to the original narrative, and in this particular case, couldn’t understand why such drastic changes were deemed necessary.
The biggest effect of the altered outcome was to move away from the sinister and melancholic tone of the novel, and this is characteristic of the play as a whole, I’d say. There seemed to have been a conscious effort to play up the more humorous and camp side of the story, transforming it into something of a black comedy, rather than a psychological suspense. Again, it’s not that this didn’t work and still make for an interesting dynamic, it’s just not what it felt the show could or should have been.
This brings me to the crux of my problem with the play, which is that for something that is technically classed as a thriller, it just wasn’t very thrilling. The whole concept of the story is that two men meet by chance and agree to exchange murders on behalf of the other, so it’s not much of a spoiler to say that murders do indeed occur. The trouble is, neither are shown on stage in this version of the story. To omit the two scenes that offer the greatest moments of drama and menace felt largely to the detriment of the tone Highsmith originally set out to achieve.
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The play’s principal cast; Chris Harper, Jack Ashton, Hannah Tointon & John Middleton
The cast is made up of a number of familiar faces from British TV. In terms of the performances, Chris Harper’s turn as the unhinged Charles Bruno was easily the standout. His emphasis on the eccentric side of the character really helped to heighten the homoerotic undertone between the two main characters, which served in turn to bring home the theme of obsession, and added another layer to Bruno’s repeatedly stated desires to ‘live’ and ‘be free’. His spiral into madness and the grips of alcoholism were also captured very well. As for the others, Middleton gave a good performance but was given so little to do it couldn’t leave much of an impression; Tointon was fine if a little shrill at times in her affected American accent; Anderson was good as Bruno’s sickly-sweet and overly appeasing mother, and Ashton was perfectly adequate, though didn’t really sell the torture and anguish of being drawn in by Bruno, meaning that all but Harper felt a little bland by comparison.
Odd as it might sound to say, the real stars of the show were the staging and set design, which were easily some of the most ingenious, inventive and seamless I’ve ever seen. Cleverly utilising a series of sliding panels and projections, it allowed the narrative to flow uninterrupted and all décor changes to take place unseen by the audience. It’s hard to explain, and I’m probably not doing it justice, but it was so well engineered and very impressive visually.
Overall, it’s another show I’m glad to have seen, and one that perhaps I would have enjoyed more had I not felt it didn’t manage to capture the mood of the original story. Clever word-play and extended discussions on the psychology of murder are indeed interesting and thought-provoking, but are simply not enough to grip an audience for the best part of two and a half hours without being balanced out by some much-needed tension and release; more akin to what most crime enthusiasts would normally expect from such a show.
January 23, 2018
Miss Saigon | Theatre Review
Miss Saigon
Show: Miss Saigon
Venue: Festival Theatre, Edinburgh
Date: 20th January 2018
Director: Laurence Connor
Music: Claude-Michel Schönberg (music) & Alain Boubill (lyrics)
Producer: Sir Cameron Mackintosh
Starring: Sooha Kim (Kim), Red Concepción (The Engineer), Ashley Gilmour (Chris), Ryan O’Gorman (John) & Zoë Doano (Ellen)
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My feelings about this show are pretty mixed. I’d definitely go as far as to say that I liked it, and am glad to have seen it, but wouldn’t say I loved it. Despite enjoying going to the theatre fairly often, my experience of musicals is admittedly somewhat lacking, but based on that limited experience, I’d say there are generally two types: A play with songs, as it were, in which the characters have normal conversations and the musical numbers are integrated into the story (akin to Singin’ in the Rain, which incidentally I saw and adored at the end of last year); and a continuous musically driven show, in which every single line is sung and accompanied by music, even simple exchanges between the more defined songs. Miss Saigon falls very firmly into the latter type, which as a concept just sadly doesn’t wholly work for me.
Personally, I find that when every single line is sung, the show can’t escape an inevitably cheesy feeling. I mean, nothing kills the tension of someone having a gun held to their head if their attacker is singing threats at them in a high falsetto… This is of course purely personal preference, and fans of this style of show will no doubt love Miss Saigon fall all its musical melodrama.
Aside from the structure, I had a few other slight niggles with the story itself. Namely, the insta-love between Kim and Chris (seriously, they made Romeo and Juliet’s romance look slow and considered). It was also a lot… let’s say… raunchier than I realised. I’m not a prude, but I knew very little about the story going in, and suffice it to say there were some children in the audience whose parents I suspect were feeling a tad awkward at certain moments.
But, I have to say that twenty minutes or so into the show, once I had settled into the swing of the characters literally singing everything at each other, I was really drawn in, and there was a lot to enjoy. Lead performer, Sooha Kim, was excellent as the story’s tragic heroine, and she was able to easily avoid the cheese-factor that can plague a lot of theatre-style singers (no offence intended to others, of course). Red Conceptión (what a fabulous name!) was also great, and added a brilliant note of humour throughout. Whilst the intermittent exchanges being sung may have niggled me, the stand-out, properly choreographed and clearly defined numbers were slick and performed wonderfully by all.
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Sooha Kim and Red Concepción
The set design was very good, and staging changes were handled effortlessly, but it was the sound design that really stood out to me – You really could believe that gunshots were ringing out and helicopters were looming overhead. I also have to give props to the orchestra (lead by James McKeon). As I said, the entire show (over two hours, excluding the interval) was constantly driven by music, with virtually no respite, and it was performed seamlessly.
The story in general I liked, and it certainly had some powerful moments. Though stylistically Miss Saigon may not have been my favourite kind of show, I could recognise and appreciate its appeal, and thought this particular production was put on to an incredibly high standard.
January 19, 2018
Let’s Recommend | Family Dramas
Let’s recommend some family dramas.
Whether you’d specifically class it as a genre in its own right or not, I absolutely love a good family drama; a story that gets into the nitty-gritty of life behind closed doors, revealing the tensions of the household, and the complex web of secrets, lies and power play between the characters. Here are a few recommendations that really stood out to me, and as always, I encourage you to share your own in return.
Shelter by Jung Yun
When our protagonist’s parents are victim to a violent crime, he feels obliged to care for them, in contrast to the normally cold and tense dynamic between them. The circumstances re-open old wounds for the characters, with the book ultimately asking us to consider the extent to which we have a duty to respect and support our family, even if they haven’t earned it. The story is incredibly layered, touching on themes as varied as gender roles, racism, the class divide, Korean culture, religion and abuse, without any of them ever feeling tacked on.
Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng
When the body of the Lee family’s favourite child is found floating in the lake, so begins a moving look at the ways a family try and fail to understand each other, and the crippling effect of secrets, longing and resentment. We see the ways the various characters react to Lydia’s death, and being centred around a Chinese-American family in 1970s Ohio, the book also very effectively touches on racial tensions.
The Tidal Zone by Sarah Moss
This is a quiet, contemplative character study about rebuilding in the wake of disaster. The book opens when 15-year-old Miriam’s heart inexplicably stops beating. Though she is successfully revived using CPR, doctors can’t explain the scare, and her family must readjust to the reality that it could theoretically happen again at any moment. Told from the perspective of Miriam’s father, the story chronicles the frustration and constant fear that her family feels; the sense of being trapped in limbo; the need to carry on with all of life’s mundanities despite feeling like their whole world has changed; and the parents’ unwillingness to let their daughter out of their sight in contrast with her headstrong determination to live life her own way.
Stay with Me by Ayòbámi Adébáyò
The focus of this novel is the exploration of whether love and hope are enough to overcome grief. We follow a Nigerian couple who have been unable to conceive a child, which sees them put under increasing pressure from their relatives to welcome a second wife into their home in order to ensure the continuation of the male bloodline. The story itself has many unexpected twists, the characters are flawed and brilliantly well realised, and the book highlights the lies people tell each other and themselves to try and make each other happy, as well as the shame of not living up to societal norms and crippling gender expectations.
Black Sheep by Susan Hill
Bleak and harrowing, Black Sheep is about the oppression and inescapable grasp that ensnared the lower classes in rural working communities, where reputation and keeping up appearances were everything, no matter how much people may have longed for better. Our brother and sister protagonists each yearn for escape from their mundane and exhausting lives in a small mining town, and in a tone of melancholy, Hill documents their doomed attempts to break free, with devastating consequences for the whole family.
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What are some of your favourite family dramas? Let’s chat about them!
January 14, 2018
Spotlight | H.G. Wells
H.G. Wells, and some of his best-known works.
The latest bookish figure I’ve decided to highlight is H.G. Wells, an author who has quietly snuck up on me to become one of my favourite writers without me even realising it. That might sound an odd thing to say, so let me try and explain.
I haven’t yet read what could be described as a ‘wow’ book by Wells; one that totally blew me away, became an instant five-star favourite, and compelled me to rush out and devour his full bibliography as fast as possible. I have, however, read four novels by him (the ones pictured above), all of which I thoroughly enjoyed, was highly impressed by, and gave a solid four-star rating. In addition to that, I’ve read five of his short stories (courtesy of a couple of the Penguin Little Black Classics), which I also really liked (one in particular which I thought was fantastic). So, whilst there may not necessarily have been an obvious standout read, he has been easily one of the most consistently enjoyable and thought-provoking authors I’ve read, with the sum total of those various great reads putting him right up there amongst my favourite authors overall.
One of the main reasons I thought Wells was worth highlighting is how great an author he would be for anyone looking to get into classics, but who perhaps feels a little daunted, worrying they’ll find them too dense, slow or archaic. The predominant reaction I had whilst reading all of Wells’ work thus far has been, ‘I can’t believe this was written in the 1800s…’. His prose is so readable, his plots and themes scarily prescient in today’s society (often exploring human nature and the danger of pushing modern science too far), and his novels are often comparatively brief amongst the work of his contemporaries. They are the kind of books that have deeper moral and thematic ideas that can be picked at and explored if you wish, but also just feature intriguing and at times compulsively exciting stories, with his fantastic concepts incredibly well realised.
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Some more of Wells’ extensive bibliography that I’m keen to explore.
When discussing Wells, I think it’s also worth pointing out that he didn’t just write science-fiction, and that he was in fact far more varied in style than many perhaps realise or give him credit for. Though sci-fi was clearly his greatest literary calling, he did indeed dabble in many other genres, including war, romance, politics, fantasy, social commentary, and literary fiction. I, for one, am certainly excited to continue to explore his work.
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Have you read any H.G. Wells? What is your favourite of his works?
January 9, 2018
Winter is Coming | Book Tag
I was kindly tagged by Jenna @ Bookmark Your Thoughts to do the Winter is Coming book tag, so without further ado, let’s just jump right into the questions.
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The End We Start From
Snow: It is beautiful when it first falls, but then it starts to melt. A book/book series that you loved at the beginning, but then, at the middle of it, you realized you don’t like it any longer.
The first thing that sprang to mind for this was The End We Start From by Megan Hunter. I love the concept (surviving in a post-apocalyptic, flooded London, from the perspective of a new mother) and was very excited to read it, but was ultimately disappointed. It felt like it was a case of style over substance, where the author relied on a ‘quirky’ writing style and a desire to write a ‘beautiful’ book over focusing on character, plot or themes.
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The Vegetarian
Snowflake: Something beautiful and always different. Choose a book that stands out, that is different from all the other books you’ve read.
The Vegetarian by Han Kang is unlike anything I’ve ever read before, and is in fact very difficult to explain. It’s bizarre and hypnotic, and thus definitely not for everyone, but it is also a fascinating, allegorical look at society’s fear of difference and a futile need to understand everything that’s going on inside someone else’s head.
Snowman: It is always fun to make one with your family. Choose a book that a whole family could read.
Both The Christmasaurus and The Creakers by Tom Fletcher are brilliantly fun adventure stories perfect for kids and kids at heart alike. They both feature great main characters and tackle themes not often seen in middle grade fiction, but without bogging down the actual stories. Both are also nicely illustrated.
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The Christmasaurus and The Creakers
Christmas: Choose a book that is full of happiness, that made you warm inside after reading it.
Questions like this always make me feel a little cold and dead inside because they make me realise that I hardly ever pick up ‘happy’ books, and definitely have a tendency to lean towards the darker side of fiction. Even the majority of the books I’ve read that are ultimately hopeful are depressing on the way there, rather than ‘full of happiness’, BUT, I did just read The Night Before Christmas this festive season, and that counts!
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The Night Before Christmas
Santa Claus: He brings wonderful presents. Choose a book that you’d like to get for Christmas.
Well, since Christmas has just been, I guess I’ll mention one of the books I asked for and was very happy to receive. Leonora Carrington: Surrealism, Alchemy and Art by Susan L. Aberth is a look at the life and work of an artist and writer I’m fascinated by and am excited to learn more about.
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Surrealism, Alchemy and Art, and a couple of examples of Carrington’s haunting artwork.
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Peter and Alice
Snowballing: It can be painful to be hit by a snowball. Choose a book that hurt, that made you feel some strong emotion, like sadness, or anger.
Ah, and here we are back in my bookish comfort zone
