• Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver
  Wonderful, classic Kingsolver in that it gently weaves the big issues (here it's opioid over-prescription and the 'left behind sections dividing American society) into a gripping roller-coaster of a story. Loosely based on Dickens' David Copperfield, it is narrated by a poor child from a trailer park in rural Virginia. Initially looked after by neighbours, later disastrously fostered and abused, little wonder he makes a lot of bad choices through his own inexperience.
  It's funny, poignant, page-turning dramatic, and eventually uplifting as the decent humans on the fringe of his life, who have tried in their humble way to offer him better choices and foster his talents, see him move into adulthood with more options than he ever imagined. A picture of rural America that pulls you in and stays with you.
  Can't recommend it highly enough.


• Rabbit Hole by Mark Billingham [read by Maxine Peake]
  This is a stand-alone novel and as usual with this author it's a very imaginative treatment for a murder investigation, and it's skilfully written. Usually with his stand-alone novels I am at first resistant, (as there's no DI Thorne - which is odd in itself as I don't find Thorne a very sympathetic hero); but then, I'm quickly drawn into the story and completely won over. Often I find putting aside a known character refreshes both reader and author as he has a renewed sense of freedom in his subject.
  Sadly though, with this book I found that, fond as I am of both author (and narrator), I did not enjoy it as much as some of his others (eg Rush of Blood and Die of Shame). However, I'm very happy to acknowledge that in this case, my lack of enjoyment seems to be wholly to do with personal taste rather than any shortcomings in the narrative.
  The story is told in the voice of an ex-DC, Alice - and we already have a certain element of "the unreliable narrator" at play because Alice has been committed to a psychiatric hospital after a breakdown following an "incident" involving the death of a colleague. After one of the other inmates is found dead, Alice is determined to find the killer, and is certain the police investigation cannot succeed without her help...
  

Posted by Christina at 12:05 pm | Category: Art and Culture, Books of the Month | Permalink

Just been to a "proper" matinee performance (ie - in the morning!) at the Everyman - Lesley Manville and lots of dresses - a sheer delight.

In passing, I have also noticed that there is a 1992 "TV movie" which would be fun to see in memory of Angela Lansbury (Mrs 'Arris) - in which I fervently hope she gives centre stage to her astonishing cockney accent, which I experienced in a rather peculiar episode of Murder She Wrote, set in London [1987 It Runs in the Family].

This version of Mrs 'Arris also stars Omar Sharif, apparently, where presumably any kind of vaguely foreign accent will do for a Frenchman (I say all this with much affection - and, after all, I may be wrong...).

Posted by Christina at 4:05 pm | Category: Art and Culture | Permalink

I - along with the rest of the world it seems - was fascinated by the discovery of the last resting place of Richard III under a car park in Leicester in 2012. I have to admit that seeing the news footage of Philippa Langley shedding a few tears as they dug made me think she was a bit wet (no pun intended). However, after seeing this film I can see why she would do so.
Having said that, it is certain that she is an unusual woman; apart from anything else, her sheer obsession with the project is a bit weird (as even her imaginary Richard tells her). Although I don't swallow entirely whole the depictions in the film, I think she would definitely have had to put up with a lot of adversity during her single-minded mission - which single-mindedness she managed to sustain over quite a long period of research, which was not really made clear in the film. The Leicester University employees have complained about their characterisations - and I would say probably fairly because there is no doubt that Philippa could not have achieved any of the archaeological side of things without them - but equally, there is no doubt they would not have undertaken the dig without her obsession - and - probably more significantly - the sums of money she raised.
Also, I would comment on the Uni's strenuous denials about misogyny. I'm sure they don't suffer from "institutional misogyny" - and even in the context of the film I did not really see the portrayal of the designated "villain of the piece" as so very bad - neither for him nor the Uni. But I'm afraid that my experience tells me that the attitude of people (not only men) towards strange ladies with obsessions and strong emotional commitment - not to mention illnesses regarded by many as imaginary - are not always kind. I do believe it must have been hard to make academics, who, to be fair, are a bit strange themselves, as well as prone to pomposity (sorry but they are) listen to her. It could only have been improved if she'd lived alone with 27 with cats. [...and I speak as one who quite likes cats myself].
As to the historical makeover of Richard - I think this has long been accepted to one degree or another. I remember an exhibition in the 1970s of Plantagenet portraits where you can clearly see the "enhancements" by the Tudors to emphasise a hunch back for Richard - and when I heard a radio play of Josephine Tey's 1951 novel The Daughter of Time in the 1980s, I was wholly convinced by it. As I've already been inspired to watch the documentary Richard III: the King in the Car Park (narrated by Simon Farnaby), perhaps it's time I actually read Tey's novel itself...

Posted by Christina at 11:35 pm | Category: Art and Culture | Permalink