National Cinema Day

It’s National Cinema Day in the UK on Saturday.

Hundreds of participating cinemas are offering tickets to all shows for just £4, to celebrate the joy of experiencing movies on the big screen.

National Cinema Day promotional video.

In Dorset, I’m a great fan of Dorchester Plaza, an independent cinema which offers you the chance to see up-to-date films at a fraction of the price of the big multiplexes. The Plaza is just one of the hundreds of venues taking part in National Cinema Day.

It’s a bit of a hike from Lush Places to Dorchester. But it’s so worth seeing a film on the big screen, rather than waiting for it to appear on TV or watching it on a hooky Firestick which keeps buffering.

In the part of France where I’m lucky enough to spend several months of the year, we used to have the most wonderful cinema showing VO – version originale – films with French subtitles.

It’s where I saw Elvis, Rocket Man and the Aretha Franklin documentary.

Sadly, the cinema closed because the couple running it retired. I did have a fleeting notion that perhaps Mr Grigg and I should take it over but then I thought better of it.

There is nothing quite like sinking into a comfortable seat and watching a film unfold. You are transported to another time and another place, which is so much more intimate than watching it at home, even if you have a popcorn cruncher or Coke slurper sitting beside you.

With a good film, you can totally immerse yourself in the onscreen action.

In Lush Places, we have a film club which is brilliant value for money. I’ll never forget seeing a spider scuttling across the village hall’s wooden floor in embarrassment as we all sat open-mouthed at a racy scene in La Spagnola, a 2001 comedy drama directed by Steve Jacobs.

I have never looked at courgettes since without wincing.

And then there was the time a handful of us watched The Shining (Stanley Kubrick, 1980) at Halloween. It was surreal seeing Jack Nicholson prowling the scary corridors of the Overlook Hotel, with axe in hand and a terrifying grin on his face, while half a dozen of us sat on village hall chairs, with the curtains closed to the outside world where children were tricking and treating.

I love going to the pictures and always have. The first film I remember seeing is Walt Disney’s The Jungle Book at the old Taunton Odeon with my big sister in 1967 when I was six years old.

My contemporaries always say they cried when Bambi’s mother was killed by a hunter. I didn’t, but I wept buckets when Mowgli went back to the Man Village.

I felt so sorry for Baloo. It was just how imagined my mother feeling (she didn’t) when I first went to primary school at the age of five. How would she cope without me, the baby of five, helping with her daily chores on the farm?

I had the joy of studying film and television history as part of my Open University degree in humanities. I struggled with some modules but I slam dunked that one.

In no particular order, here are ten classic film sequences from some of my favourite films (I will endeavour to do a post on British films and foreign language ones at some point. I love them all):

The Hula Hoop scene in The Hudsucker Proxy (Coen brothers, 1994)
Dance scene, Witness (Peter Weir, 1985)
Random Harvest ending (Mervyn LeRoy, 1942)
The King Louie scene, The Jungle Book (Walt Disney, 1967)
Do-Re-Mi, The Sound of Music (Robert Wise, 1965)
Ride of the Valkyries helicopter assault, Apocalypse Now ( Francis Ford Coppola, 1979)
Roller skate chase, The Big Store (Charles Reisner, 1941)
Binary Sunset, Star Wars: A New Hope (George, Lucas, 1977)
Chunk confesses to the Fratellis, The Goonies (Richard Donner, 1985)
Meeting Frau Blucher, Young Frankenstein (Mel Brooks, 1974)

Book reviews #1

I read so many novels, I’ve decide it’s time I started sharing some of my reviews.

I’m a reviewer for The Historical Novel Society and NetGalley. I get through books like chocolate biscuits.

I’ll try to post reviews on the last weekend of every month.

The Maiden of Florence by Katherine Mezzacappa

*****

The Maiden of Florence is based on a true story about Giulia, a young woman who, in 16th century Italy, was plucked from an orphanage to prove the virility of a prince marrying into the powerful Medici family. Her task done, a comfortable life is arranged for her. But she can never forget what happened, nor escape the unwanted attentions of the lecherous minister who facilitated the ‘test’ in the first place.

It’s a shocking, harrowing scenario and, to be honest, I wasn’t sure how I would feel about reading such a horror story, imagining bleakness and a tale without hope. The novel sat on my shelf for a while before I had the courage to read it. But when I started it, I just couldn’t put it down.

Katherine Mezzacappa uses every tool in her writer’s armoury to create an astonishing novel, weaving fact with credible fiction to totally immerse the reader in Giulia’s world, a world in which men of money and power call all the shots. The Maiden of Florence is beautifully written and diligently researched, with all the senses in action, making this reader feel uncomfortably prurient when the act is described and as injustice after injustice is heaped upon the protagonist.

Giulia is treated so brutally. Inside, she is raging, yet she manages to retain a quiet dignity to equip her well in the years that follow.

This is a novel with tenderness, hope, justice and love at its heart. The Maiden of Florence is my book of 2024.

The Engraver’s Secret by Lisa Medved

*****

In 17th century Antwerp, an engraver is on his death bed when he reveals to his daughter, Antonia, a terrible secret. Something he did when he worked in the studio of artist Peter Paul Rubens will have dangerous repercussions for his family for generations to come.

Meanwhile, in the present day, Rubens aficionado Charlotte secures a short-term position as a university lecturer in Antwerp. She has a secret of her own, which may be affecting her judgement when she makes a major discovery.

In a dual timeline, handled deftly by the author. Antonia’s and Charlotte’s stories intertwine, building layers of intrigue to reach a thrilling conclusion. Along the way, we get to know the two women, the times in which they live, the prejudices they face and the towns and workplaces they inhabit.

The Engraver’s Secret is that rare thing – solid, well researched and fascinating historical fiction combined with a fast-paced thriller, all wrapped up in terrific writing which flows off the page. The novel is a real page turner, and I couldn’t put it down. A Dan Brown for discerning readers of art history fiction.

Witness 8 by Steve Kavanagh

****

This is a fast-paced crime thriller with ex-con-man turned criminal lawyer Eddie Flynn defending a respected surgeon and family man wrongly accused of murder in a rich neighbourhood of New York. Throw into the mix some capable sidekicks, assassins, corrupt police, preening officials and an unlikely baddie in the shape of a young mother’s help with a sick mother, and you have a real page turner of a novel with a twist at the end which I did not see coming.

I’m familiar with the genre but not the author or his protagonist. I’d definitely read him again.

Thank you to NetGalley for an advance reader copy of Witness 8. Thoroughly recommended.

Our London Lives by Christine Dwyer Hickey

***

This is a book that will stay with me for a long time.

The story is told from the viewpoints of two characters, Milly and Pip, over the course of forty years. They are both Irish and live in London. When they meet, Milly is a barmaid and Pip is a promising boxer but becomes an alcoholic.

The pair live their largely separate lives against a backdrop of a London which is changing hugely, with buildings and locations crucial to the characters deteriorating over the years.

It is a melancholy, gentle and sometimes brutal novel. If you are expecting a romance with lots of dramatic ‘will they, won’t they’ moments to punctuate the narrative, this is not it.

Pivotal events are sometimes told in a retrospective, detached way, which, as a reader, I found frustrating.

The character of Pip was explored more fully than Milly’s and there were times when I felt that the author held back on what motivated Milly by not delving into her backstory.

I found the novel compelling and capitivating but it felt to me like something was missing, and I did not care for the ending. For that reason, I am giving it three stars.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for an advance reader copy of this novel.

The Glassmaker by Tracy Chevalier

**

I’ve enjoyed some of Tracy Chevalier’s novels in the past but really struggled with this novel, which follows the fortunes of a female glassmaker from the Rosso family on Murano.

Her ability to transport you into certain eras and to describe complicated processes are expertly done but, for me, the narrative plodded, with more telling than showing.

The device of showing the same characters through the centuries, hardly ageing, didn’t work for me, as there was no reference to this in their everyday lives, apart from an omnipresent narrator at the beginning of each section. It seemed forced, artificial, and I think it would have been much more interesting, readable and brave if she had followed the dynasty generation by generation or gone the whole hog and done a Matt Haig-type How To Stop Time treatment.

Butterfly mind

It’s already been one of those days today. My mind is clearly on too many things.

First of all, I forgot to put a top on when I went downstairs, inavertently wearing just bra and shorts to let the dogs out.

I realised my mistake only when Ruby gave me a disdainful glare.

I then got out the shears and heartily clipped back eleven lavender bushes – luckily, no errors there, unlike Mr Grigg’s brutalisation of my mallow earlier in the week. Which was deliberate.

(I am seething. It’ll take me a while to get over that.)

I’ve told him to keep his hands off the buddleia. He’s not touching that until the late spring. The butterflies agree with me.

Anyway, lavender clipped and cuttings taken and planted, it was time to take the dogs out for a walk.

With ideas going round my head like the smoke effects at a cheap 1970s disco, I managed to put Ruby’s harness on Edgar and wondered why it wouldn’t clip across his ample back properly.

It was only when he gazed up at me, patiently, with big amber eyes that I realised my faux pas.

That’s two things and it’s only mid-morning. I’m waiting for a third.

So don’t ask me to do anything important.

The best I can do for you is post a picture of Ruby doing her usual trick of staring at the geraniums for minutes on end, just in case a bug crawls out of a pot.

I think I might join her.

One day I flew away

Today, I came off the social media platform formerly known as Twitter. (I can’t bring myself to call it by its current name. It sounds more like a porn channel than a social networking site.)

It’s not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but it made me feel better, especially after two of three accounts I run for clients were also deactivated over the last few days.

I’m keeping the third one for now, although I won’t be updating very much.

In the early years, Twitter was a great way of networking. We even had ‘Tweet Ups’ locally in West Dorset, where we put faces to our avatars. People were a little disappointed I looked nothing like the flaxen-haired Spirit of Bridport but, despite that, some firm friendships were forged.

However, in recent years, with a change of ownership and emphasis, the platform has become increasingly useless for me. And the latest brouhaha surrounding comments made by its owner about the appalling riots we’ve just had in the UK made me feel very uncomfortable.

It was time I was off.

I’m still on Facebook and Instagram and also LinkedIn. These spaces have their faults and, if you listen to the BBC’s disinformation reporter Marianna Spring’s frightening podcast, Why Do You Hate Me? and the equally terrifying The Gatekeepers, by Jamie Bartlett, you’ll understand why we need to be worried.

As Facebook turned 20 this year, Bartlett ‘uncovers how social media allowed a new digital elite and their platforms to conquer the planet and control what we see.’

It’s worth a listen if you’ve ever wondered how this unregulated thing grew into such a monster.

For now, I am staying on Instagram and sharing content about old Hollywood, 70s and 80s bands, comedy sketches from This Country and The Fast Show, and the odd talking dog. And I will remain on Facebook and try to be better at curating my Maddie Grigg page with regular status updates for my followers.

LinkedIn is a great way of keeping in touch with business trends and people in the same line of business. It’s just a shame it seems to be open to attempts by hackers to hijack accounts

I’m not completely ready to wander off and out into the wilderness, but the prospect of getting away from inane and unkind chatter is very tempting to say the least.

To vote or not to vote

Well, tomorrow’s the day when the UK goes to the polls for the first time in five years.

A lot has happened during that time, and in the fourteen years the Conservatives have been in power.

I’m not going to tell you which way to vote – I mean, who cares about my opinion? Actually, I care about my opinion but I’ll keep it to myself.

The key thing is whatever you do, please exercise your democratic right by going to your local polling station tomorrow and using your vote wisely.

I read today that one in five votes has already been cast because so many people have postal votes.

This is interesting because all the stories I’ve heard about postal votes is of paperwork not being received in time. A shambles is an understatement.

I’m currently in France and when the date of this election was announced, I was advised by electoral registration in Dorset to apply for a proxy vote as it had been called at such short notice.

So I did and reeived an email saying I would hear more in due course. I didn’t, although my proxy did but she wasn’t sent a polling card for me. In the meantime, I recieved a postal vote (which I hadn’t asked for) but with not enough time to return it for it to be counted.

I thought I’d be disenfranchised, like I was for the local elections when I didn’t receive a postal vote at all, even when I’d applied for one.

Then yesterday, two days before the election, my proxy received my polling card through the post.

So my vote will count after all. Whether it will make a difference is anyone’s guess but at least I (or my trusted proxy) will be doing my bit.

See you on the other side.