Wednesday, 18 September 2013

The Swiss Sketchbook - page 5



‘They looked up at the yellow squares of windows set beneath steeply tiled roofs, saw the shapes of people moving behind them, and once a child’s face peeping up at the night sky as though counting stars.’

From A Heart Bent Out of Shape, page 169

***
To see page 1 of my Swiss Sketchbook, and to read about the background to the project and its artist, go HERE. And for a closer look at the picture itself just click on the image...

Tuesday, 17 September 2013

A peep inside my writing room

Recently I invited the bookish website Novelicious inside my writing room, and explained why I favour a very hard chair and a lamp's happy glow... To read the piece go HERE.

Shortly after we moved in... far too spartan a room for my tastes...

Ah, that's better! Colour and paraphernalia everywhere...

Monday, 16 September 2013

The Swiss Sketchbook - page 4



‘With its arched windows, rows of wooden tables and scrubbed tiled floor it felt like a Parisian café; a place more day than night.’ 

From A Heart Bent Out of Shape, page 109

***

To see page 1 of my Swiss Sketchbook, and to read about the background to the project and its artist, go HERE. And for a closer look at the picture itself, just click on the image...


Sunday, 15 September 2013

Podcasts, time machines, and mushroom biryani

The other day I talked to fellow writer & Bristol pal Nikesh Shukla for his excellent podcast, The Subaltern. He's interviewed some amazing authors down the years so it was a treat to be asked. We talked about the duff tag 'aspiring' when attached to 'writer', problematic searches for book titles, and, um, our mutual adoration of donkeys... You can listen to our podcast HERE.
Nikesh's novella, The Time Machine, was published just recently. It's a moving story about one man's mission to recreate the food his mother used to make. The Time Machine is available as an e-book and costs just £1, with all proceeds going to the Roy Castle Lung Cancer Foundation. With its beautifully-described connections between the food we eat and the people we love, as well as enticing recipes, it'll soon have you craving Indian food... Buy it HERE - you'll be doing something good for charity, and yourself.

When I first moved to London, a country bumpkin lost in the city, my boyfriend and I discovered an amazing little neighbourhood restaurant called Hot Stuff. It remains one of my all-time favourite Indian restaurants, and I wrote about the experience of finding it (and finding our way in The Big Smoke) for Nikesh's blog - you can read my piece Bright Lights, Big City, Hot Stuff HERE

Friday, 13 September 2013

The Swiss Sketchbook - page 3



‘Turn-of-the-century apartment buildings, majestic and comely and pouting with balconies, sat alongside pastel-painted low-rises.’

From A Heart Bent Out of Shape, page 16

***

To see page 1 of my Swiss Sketchbook, and to read about the background to the project and its artist, go HERE.

Wednesday, 11 September 2013

The Swiss Sketchbook - page 2




‘She will probably always remember the Hôtel Le Nouveau Monde, its delicate bulk like a glamorous but portly femme d’un certain age.’

From A Heart Bent Out of Shape, page 2

***

To see page 1 of my Swiss Sketchbook, and to read about the background to the project and its artist, go HERE. And for a closer look at the picture itself, just click on the image...

Monday, 9 September 2013

The Swiss Sketchbook - launch & page 1


This Thursday is the UK publication day for A Heart Bent Out of Shape, and I wanted to do something on my blog to mark the occasion. Last year, for The Book of Summers, my dad - the talented artist Alwyn Hall - painted a beautiful picture of Lake Balaton, one of the settings in the book. Throughout the summer I then ran recipes for some of the Hungarian food that appears in the story, from Marika's Raspberry Cake to Cucumber Salad and good old Goulash. So what to do for A Heart Bent Out of Shape? The answer, as it often does for me, lay in 'place'. 

The Swiss Sketchbook is a series of ten pictures that I've commissioned from Alwyn Hall (yep, My Dad again). Each image in the series is based on a line from the novel, and all revolve around location, location, location. Throughout the pages of The Swiss Sketchbook we’ll go from Hadley’s first giddying view of the city, to the Lausanne lakeside, to a snow-dipped mountain dreamscape, to a flower-bright spring. The mediums and styles will always be different too, from pen and ink, to watercolour, to thickly daubed poster paint. I’ll post a new picture every couple of days, through until the end of September, so do check back and see the landscape of the novel unfold.

When I’m writing, I almost always begin with place. Conjuring the spirit of somewhere, capturing its essence, painting a picture with words… these are a few of my favourite things. If reading A Heart Bent Out of Shape succeeds in bringing Lausanne and its environs to life for my readers, and I truly hope it does, then perhaps these sketches will go one step further. For me, they’re the perfect meeting of description on the page, and one reader’s imagination. A reader who just happens to be handy with a paintbrush…

I hope you enjoy this drawing tour of Lausanne and La Suisse. Without further ado, here’s the first page in our Swiss Sketchbook...


‘It is about a city; a place at once fairy-tale and reality-bitten, glorious and imperfect, sun-soaked and winter-whipped.’

From A Heart Bent Out of Shape, page 3

***

About the artist:

Alwyn Hall studied Illustration at Northampton followed by an Art Education degree in Manchester. He taught Art for several years and worked on the North West Region Curriculum Development Project.  This led to a year of educational research in Cardiff.   On returning to Manchester he exhibited paintings at the Northern Academy and other public and private galleries including a successful one-man show at the University. He and his wife then moved to Devon where he took up a Head of Department post in a large Comprehensive School. Much of his work, inspired by the rural area surrounding their home, consists of detailed representational drawings, paintings and linocut prints.  The most exciting project of the last decade, now nearing completion, is a lavishly illustrated collection of his own poems and songs.



Sunday, 8 September 2013

Sheep whispering & snowboarding

A few months ago, journalism student Sarah Abrahams got in touch, asking if she could interview me for her final piece of work for her course. I'd met Sarah at a book signing in Exeter last summer, and was more than happy to oblige. I was delighted - for Sarah, and for me! - when she not only got a great grade, but successfully pitched the feature to the magazine Devon Life. Sarah's interview focuses on my Devon childhood, and the importance that that corner of the world continues to play in my writing. My thanks to Sarah, and to Devon Life, for such a lovely feature... may I be known from here on in as The Sheep Whisperer. And best of luck with the rest of your writing career, Sarah!


From the long-ago-past to the more recent past... I've also been chatting to the very cool Cooler Magazine (a snow & surf magazine for women). Back in 2005 I quit my job to go and live in the mountains, and in between the snowboarding, chalet graft, and resort revelry, I worked out what I really wanted to do... write a novel, and work as hard as I could to get it published. You can read the full interview HERE.


Saturday, 7 September 2013

The Comeback Kid

I've written a new short story called The Comeback Kid, and last week it appeared in S Magazine (with the Sunday Express). Go HERE to read about the day that Cooper Clay, a faded tennis star, and his lovechild meet one another for the first time...


Friday, 30 August 2013

I heart Brizzle

The nice folk at Visit Bristol have set up a brand new Tumblr of Bristol-based creatives. I'm first up, and have written a piece about the connection between my move to Bristol, and my writing. Go HERE to read why I love living in this city... and, more importantly, to find out where to get the best almond croissants in town...


Emily Dickinson would have liked these skies over Bristol's Ashton Court - 'tell all the truth but tell it slant'

Thursday, 15 August 2013

Edinburgh International Book Festival

Last saturday I was delighted to be back in Edinburgh for the International Book Festival. My event was on day one of the Festival fortnight, and this year it was the 30th anniversary - an especially special place and time to be there.

I was appearing with the acclaimed American author Lucy Ellmann, whose most recent book is called 'Mimi'. Our event, Literary Genius and Genius Loci, was chaired by the excellent Diana Hope, and we were back in the Writers' Retreat, the same stage I shared with Karl Ove Knausgaard last year - the setting for many happy memories of my first ever lit fest. Over the hour we talked about unlikely friendships, the isolating facets of grief, strong-minded female characters, conveying the spirit of a place, and a cat called Bubbles. As ever the Edinburgh crowd were a delight; lots of great questions, and friendly faces at the signing table in the bookshop afterwards. While A Heart Bent Out of Shape isn't out until September, an advance run of books were made available to Festival go-ers, and I couldn't resist a snap...


   

As soon as I'd finished one event, I was into the next. Like last year I'd volunteered to read for Amnesty, as part of their Imprisoned Writers series. Unlike last year... I didn't actually read... The piece that was given to me was by the Ugandan poet Jade Amoli-Jackson, from her collection Moving A Country. Jade's husband, sister and father were killed during a period of internal conflict, and her children abducted. She escaped from military captivity and sought refuge in England in 2001. In her poem 'Faded Dreams' she describes the experience of having to bribe soldiers for the release of her husband's headless body. It's an incredibly powerful poem. The language is sparse, each word weighty with emotion. It's graceful and heartbreaking and... very difficult to read. I'd practised it at home, and cried then, but I thought that on the day I'd be okay. The Amnesty events always attract great writers willing to read, and a packed audience wanting to listen, so I figured that I'd be able to rise to the occasion, and do Jade's words justice. In my introduction I talked about how, at a Festival such as Edinburgh, it's easy for a newbie author such as myself to get an inflated sense of their own worth. For a couple of days we get to swan about with our lanyards, enjoying our free coffee, surrounded by book lovers, talking about and signing our novels. And then we do an event like Amnesty and feel very small again - in the best possible way. Jade had spent a week at Totleigh Barton, the Devon Arvon house, just as I had, and I felt that that was a connection between us - just as by reading her poetry aloud on that day was another connection created. 




But... I was barely through her biography when my emotions got the better of me, and I knew that I couldn't carry on. I'm not a pretty crier, I can't maintain a just-cracking voice, instead once I'm gone, I'm gone. As the tears came I did the only thing I could think of in that split-second, I bent to the mic and croaked 'this is a bit unorthodox, but could I ask my husband to come and read for me instead...' Bobby jumped up from his seat, all the way down at the back, and without any warning or preparation took to the stage and launched into the most beautiful reading of 'Faded Dreams'. I sat listening, trying to collect myself, feeling a bit of an amateur, but immeasurably glad that Jade's words were being read fluently, powerfully, and affectingly - just as they deserved to be. Thinking about it now I feel a bit foolish, and wish I'd been able to carry on reading with strength and grace, instead of breaking down. But then, isn't that what such an event is really about - genuinely stopping and thinking and feeling - so often we're guilty of sleepwalking through our own small and comfortable worlds. On balance, I think I'd rather be the kind of person who is torn up by a poem like 'Faded Dreams', and doesn't mind showing it. Jade Amoli-Jackson's collection is available to buy on Amazon. You should buy it. I think it's probably important that you do.

That night we celebrated the opening of the Festival, and its 30th anniversary, with a fabulous party in the Guardian Spiegeltent, a jumping band, and abundant drinks. I was thrilled to catch up with Jenny Brown, Founder Director of the Festival, who chaired my event last year, and it was a real treat to chat to Peggy Riley, another Headline author and Twitter pal. My ace publicity manager Ben Willis kept the drinks, and the gags, flowing. We rolled home to bed, 20 hours after we'd woken up in Bristol, and slept the sleep of the happy and weary.



Then woke up to this... sunday morning over the Edinburgh skyline.



2013 was, for me, another very memorable Edinburgh experience. I'll be back again in two weeks to watch my husband and his brother - The Etherington Brothers - do their thing on stage. I'll sit poised, just in case I'm needed to step in... but somehow I doubt that'll happen. Meanwhile we'll be heading to the Fringe to catch some music, some comedy, some anything... It's always good in Edinburgh.

Friday, 2 August 2013

A pleasant fiction - a Book Slam blog

If you're off on holiday this summer, with books packed in your case, you might like to read THIS before you read them. Over on the Book Slam website I talk about the particular pleasures of holiday reading...


Wednesday, 31 July 2013

Guardian angels

One of my favourite books about writers and writing is How I Write, The Secret Lives of Authors (I talked about it a while back, over on the Book Slam website). It lets you in on the curious ways that different writers entice themselves to work - from talismans to rituals, inspiration takes all forms. My own writing room is rich in encouragement, it blazes with colour, every surface patched with pictures and postcards and objects that create a sense of creation. My mum's hand-stitched blankets adorn the sofa, examples of my dad's art pepper the walls, and I've framed some of my favourite printed mentions for The Book of Summers - Grazia and Marie Claire lay-outs, a piece I wrote on childhood holidays. I've made a space that makes me want to get down to work, and that, beyond aesthetics or sentimentalism, is the most important thing. But sometimes specific work requires specific motivation. I've written before about my mood board making tendencies, whether an elaborate form of procrastination or not, they do it for me. I like creating a visual sense of what I'm writing towards, and I do the same sonically, making soundtracks for my books, playing the same tunes over and over as I tap into a mood. With The Book of Summers, there was one particular photograph that I returned to again and again. It wasn't a holiday snap from a Hungarian adventure, but a picture of an eight-year-old me, standing in my grandparents' garden in Northamptonshire. I've got a blunt-cut fringe and red dungarees and I'm right up in the foreground of the shot, everything else falling away behind me. I seem both aware, and unaware, of the camera's presence. This is the picture I propped on my desk through the writing of my first novel. I looked at that little girl, and tried to think as she might. In The Book of Summers, the figure of Erzsi isn't me, but many of the things that we do have in common come from my dialogue with that photograph.

As I was writing A Heart Bent Out of Shape, inspiration was everywhere. A wonderful bank of memory from my year living in Lausanne, as well as plenty of photos from that time. The books of Ernest Hemingway, particularly A Moveable Feast and A Farewell To Arms. Vintage traveller pictures and postcards, Riviera and snowscape living. Haunting music, from a wounded Johnny Cash to a whispery French Nouvelle Vague. Then one day I looked up from my desk and stared directly into a face. A face that had been watching over me for months, as I struggled my way through first and second drafts, edits, rewrites, scribblings-out and scribblings-back-in. In that face, I suddenly saw my whole book.



I first came across the work of Jason Brooks years ago, on a series of Hedkandi album covers. His illustrations had a clear-lined elegance, a sexiness, an unashamedly aspirational quality that made them different to anything I'd seen before. Back when was I working in an advertising agency in the early 2000s, I suggested his work for a client's campaign and felt such a thrill when they went for it. We commissioned new illustrations, animated them for TV, blew them up huge for billboards and the backs of buses. Even then Jason's work was being copy-catted everywhere, and to work with the man himself lent an integrity not always found inside the often derivative world of advertising. Now, the 'Jason Brooks woman' is practically a school of illustrative style in its own right; relentlessly imitated, rarely if ever equalled. My Jason Brooks print is a souvenir from my past, his agent gave it to me after we'd finished working together. It hangs on the wall in my writing room, just as it's hung on the wall in all the houses I've lived in in the last ten years. Only one day I looked up and saw something different in it. I saw Hadley and Kristina, and in that snow-filled landscape were all the things I hope are in the story of A Heart Bent Out of Shape; a sense of promise, of sparkle, of unease, of loneliness, of hope, of elegance. Light and dark and light again. Jason Brooks' wintry woman turned out to be my own peculiar kind of guardian angel, and as I wrote my way to my final manuscript, I did it under her watchful, level, ever-so-serene gaze. And when I finally finished, I raised a glass to her as well.      

Monday, 8 July 2013

A Heart Bent Out of Shape - the cover

I'm very happy to be able to share with you the beautiful cover for A Heart Bent Out of Shape...


I think it captures the novel's mood perfectly, and come September 12th, you'll be able to be the judge of that too. For a closer look, and to read the cover copy, go HERE

North American readers, it'll be published as The Swiss Affair in February 2014, and I'm looking forward to being able to share the equally gorgeous cover for that edition too.

Monday, 1 July 2013

Ghana Must Go - a review

After sending an effusive post-holiday tweet to my friend, Kate Haines, extolling the virtues of Taiye Selasi's Ghana Must Go, she suggested that I review it for her blog, Africa In Words. Kate, together with four other PhD students concerned with literature, print culture, and Africa, set the site up in order to 'start community and dialogue' among people with 'similar preoccupations and interests'. I was delighted to be let loose as a guest contributor... and you can read what I thought of Ghana Must Go HERE

As an author, I think I'd always approach review-writing requests with much caution, my guiding ethos being something along the lines of 'if you've got nothing good to say, say nothing'. In the case of this novel, I had plenty of good things to say, and am therefore very happy to have been given the chance to say them loudly, in an environment that's as well-informed, and super-engaged, as Africa In Words. Thanks, Kate!

My Post-it-ridden copy, I wonder if all reviewers' books look like this?

Wednesday, 26 June 2013

The wonderful world of work in translation


I might be starting work on my third novel, and excitedly/ anxiously waiting for my second to be published, but my first has never been far from my mind this summer. Every so often a delivery van will pull up outside my house and I’ll sign for a box of books. Nyarak Könyve. Somrenes Bok. Sommarboken. I’ll tear open the packaging, delight in the different looks and feels, flick through the pages and see my words in a foreign language, and then pop a copy on the shelf, for ‘when I’m old and grey and full of sleep’. In the last couple of months, The Book of Summers was published for the first time in Hungary, Sweden, Norway, and Holland. In 2012 it came out in Spain, Italy, and Portugal. In 2014, it’ll be out in Germany. 

I find these translations hugely exciting, not least because they’re destined to always remain something of a mystery to me. Each version, whether it’s Het boek van de zomers or El Libro de los veranos, is a new version in its own right, and holds its own secrets. It is a collaborative work, and is the result of much labour - labour that isn’t lost on me. While perhaps I’ll never be able to appreciate at first-hand their subtleties, the delicate details within their pages, I figured that the next best thing I could do was to talk to the author of one such translation. Mónika Mesterházi, who turned my novel into Nyarak Könyve, kindly agreed to give me a peek inside her writing world.


Before interviewing Mónika, I caught up with my Hungarian editor, Vera Tönkő from Park. Vera explained how important it is for her to keep up to date with the work of different translators, so she knows who best to call upon when the time comes. Revealing her sensitivity as an editor, she talked about how vital it was that a translator responds positively to a book, that they ‘love its world’. If any aversions are voiced, Vera will place the job elsewhere. She likes to work collaboratively with translators, sharing thoughts and notes and getting to know each other’s viewpoints, but ‘the last word always belongs to the translator’. With The Book of Summers, Vera thought straightaway of Mónika Mésterhazi, ‘one of the best English translators working in Hungary today’, and known for her ‘fastidious search for the right word, and the graceful sentence’. Mónika has translated the work of Alice Munro, Rose Tremain and Seamus Heaney, and has ‘a good feeling for lyrical texts’, no doubt stemming from her parallel life as a significant Hungarian poet. When Vera told me this I was delighted - Nyarak Könyve couldn't be in better hands. 

An interview with Mónika Mesterházi (via email)...


How did you come to be a literary translator?

At university I attended a seminar for literary translation, where we learnt all sorts of skills through translating short pieces of fiction or poems. Most of all it became clear that those working on the same text are colleagues (possibly friends), even if one criticizes and edits the version of the other. One of the best seminars I ever had was led by the late István Géher, a legendary professor, a poet and translator. While Mr. Géher was reading out a group member’s translation, the others were to listen and judge it first by ear, then on paper, as short extracts were handed out and we edited them together. It was always more than just translation, and was such fun that many of us attended the seminar for years on.

What is your working process when you embark upon a new translation?

I always begin with reading the novels I translate so that the narrative voice can start working in my mind or ear by the time I sit down in front of my laptop. After reading a novel through, I always read the pages I plan to do that day and, in some way, even the sentences begin to work themselves into their Hungarian counterparts by the time I actually start translating them. So the idea is to understand everything (and possibly every intention) in the original, and move towards the other language. Once I have a few pages in Hungarian, it is this text I’ll re-read and revise, first after one night’s sleep, then in the end, after having finished the whole book. Which means a lot of distancing, after a lot of fumbling with the details.

Literary translation, perhaps unlike business translation, requires that you capture the author's 'voice', how do you work to achieve that? Is it that particular challenge one of the beguiling aspects of literary translation?

The voice is indeed the key to the text. The voice of the narration is just as important as the dialogues of the individual characters. There is no recipe for how to capture that. This is the actor’s part of translation, I think, the way an actor assumes a role in a play. I mean, you add something from yourself, from the way you hear the text in your head.

When translating, which 'audience' is chief in your mind, that of the author (regardless of their ability to understand your language), or that of the translation readership?

If one does it properly, then the translation can stay true to its author and at the same time be re-worded for its new audience.

What are the most important attributes for a good translator, beyond linguistic knowledge?

One has to have linguistic skills (in both languages), empathy (to be able to see into and beyond the text), and have to be creative in finding the actual solutions. There are always the so called untranslatable puns that must still be translated or substituted with something from the same material. And they are not always “puns”, but expressions, collocations, linguistic references in the original text which are obviously different in the translation’s language. And there are the so called cultural gaps… And there is, of course, the other skill of dealing with time, in the short and the long run.

Did The Book of Summers present any particular translation challenges?

Maybe more than it is apparent, and more than there would be for translators working in other languages. As the major part of the novel takes place in Hungary, there are Hungarian words and sentences in the original, which are foreign in English, and this foreignness had to be achieved in the Hungarian. Hungarian words are sometimes explained in the novel in English, but I had to explain them in Hungarian. The sound of certain Hungarian words is commented on, whereas they sound natural for the Hungarian ear. Certain Hungarian experiences (or customs) are described through the tourist-guest’s eye, and had to be rendered in a way that they should sound weird for the Hungarian reader as well. The narrator speaks in her mother tongue, which is English, but in the translation it is Hungarian. However, at some point she utters Hungarian words, with difficulty. So I had to indicate this as well (I transcribed Hungarian words with English pronunciation), and disrupted (so to say) the Hungarian reader’s suspension of disbelief (that this English author is after all speaking in Hungarian). But this kind of challenge is worth taking up for such a good book.

What do you think about 'invisible' and 'visible' translators?

When I read world literature, I always look up the translator’s name first, and when I quote a foreign literary text in Hungarian, however short, I mention the translator (I would do that in a blog as well). But that may be out of professional pride. On the other hand, in reviews or criticism one often finds the author’s style praised, without any reference to the person who has worded it for the reader in their mother tongue. So I find it really important that translators should be remembered, and I must thank you here for this interview. There is a visibility campaign organised by CEATL (European Council of Literary Translators’ Associations), which states: “Paradoxically, this authorship of the translator mostly remains invisible. The better the translation, the more the reader will have the impression that s/he is reading the original text. However, if the general reader does not pay attention to the quality of the translation, translation quality will not be regarded as a relevant cultural and economic factor. This is why literary translators desperately need to be culturally visible as authors of their texts. Only then can they lay claim to a bargaining position that will permit their work not to be dashed off.”

Finally, what would be your dream translation job? Are there any novels or poems out there that you're itching to translate? 

In Hungary, the proportion of books in translation is quite high, especially with books translated from English. Classics and 20th century authors are mostly available in Hungarian. Contemporary writers I often get to know through translating them… In translating poetry I am freer to choose (although it is more difficult to publish verse translations, except in periodicals – publishers in Hungary don’t believe in slim books of poems…). I’d like to translate more poems by the Irish poet Matthew Sweeney.

***



BIG thanks to Mónika and Vera for sparing the time to let me in on your world, and to all my other international editors, and translators... Isabel Alves, Amaya Basáñez Fernández, Teresa Albanese, Miebeth van Horn, Marianne Mattsson, and Per Kristian Gudmundsen. Your work makes this UK author very, very happy.  

Monday, 24 June 2013

Picture-postcard-perfect

Ahead of September's publication of A Heart Bent Out of Shape here in the UK, my publisher has produced some quite gorgeous postcards. They perfectly conjure the part of Switzerland in which the book is set: Lac Léman, a pleasure-seeker's Riviera paradise, with a timeless sense of beauty. While the story takes place in the present day, it's always seemed to me that there are echoes of travel's 'golden age' in today's La Suisse. A Heart Bent Out of Shape is rooted in such landscapes, while Hadley, my heroine, falls in love while studying Jazz Age literature. Mes amis, Welcome to Lausanne...






I love vintage travel imagery - the dreams of far-off climes, the dash of romance, the hyperreal shades - and a quick glance around my writing room shows that these postcards will be very much at home here. Here's a peep at some of the bits and pieces that I like to surround myself with as I'm working...

Glorious chocolate boxes... The chocs have long since gone, but the packaging's too beautiful to chuck away. I actually bought 'Les Moules du Lac' in Lausanne last winter, from a perfect little Chocolaterie... 
   
Vintage ski cards... I wish somebody had invented snowboarding earlier, as I'd love to see some similarly cheeky/ svelte depictions of people standing-sideways...



The wrapping paper I couldn't quite bring myself to give away... it's a poster on my wall instead, just behind me as I write...


... and the ultimate in inspirations, this was the mood-board I made while writing A Heart Bent Out of Shape... light on water, jagged peaks... Bon Voyage.




Sunday, 23 June 2013

Edinburgh again, and on being Mimi

Last Thursday at noon, the Edinburgh International Book Festival made its 2013 programme public... and I'm in it. HURRAH! Last year's Edinburgh was my first ever literary festival and I had an absolute ball. This year I'm going to talk about A Heart Bent Out of Shape, and because my event falls a good month before the official publication date, advance copies will be available to Festival go-ers, which makes the whole thing feel, for me, especially exciting. 

In a curious case of stars aligning, or just plain old coincidence, I'm appearing with the excellent Lucy Ellmann, who wrote a novel called 'Mimi'. Time for some trivia... Anybody who knows me beyond the pages of this blog, probably knows that Mimi is the name I commonly go by. My older sister coined it when she couldn't pronounce 'Emylia', the name my parents gave me, so I was Mimi in the cradle, and more often than not, I'm Mimi today. I decided to write under Emylia as it somehow felt less frivolous than Mimi, less flighty, but whenever I meet anyone through books and writing, there comes a point when I feel like I have to confess to being also known (generally known) as Mimi. To some, I'm sure it comes across as overly intimate/ slightly daft, like saying 'call me Tiddlywinks' or 'Fifi-foo', but it's not a nickname, it's my name-name. For years, I only heard 'Emylia' at school, from the mouths of teachers and pupils who didn't know me well enough - Emylia was swottish, a goody-two-shoes who always turned her homework in on time and had neat handwriting, whereas Mimi climbed trees, played football, and was a bit of a scruff bag. I never cared much for 'Emylia', but ever since I started writing under it, I feel like it's had a new lease of life. I don't prickle anymore when I hear the name. 'Emylia' no longer conjures timetables, and rigour, clumpy shoes and school ties; instead it's book jackets, and exciting things, and feeling like at 34 I'm doing the thing I love most in the world and feeling tremendously, enormously happy about it. For the first time, my two identities have fused - Emylia, Mimi, it's all good. I'll just have to remember to keep myself in check when the Edinburgh crowd say things like 'I really loved Mimi', or 'what next, after Mimi?' I'll pipe down, and look to Lucy.

To read more about our event, 'Literary Genius and Genius Loci', go HERE.

Thursday, 13 June 2013

Childhood reading - a Book Slam blog

Have you ever re-read a favourite childhood book, as an adult? The other day I picked up The Black Stallion by Walter Farley for the first time in over twenty years, and began it as an 'experiment in reading'. Within pages, it became just 'reading'. I wrote about it for Book Slam, and you can read it HERE.

Tuesday, 4 June 2013

The Big Red Read 2013 - Fiction Winner

I'm DELIGHTED that The Book of Summers has been voted Fiction Winner in The Big Red Read 2013....




Every year, readers from the London borough of Redbridge's thirteen libraries vote for their favourite shortlisted books. The Fiction category had some seriously fine titles in it this year, including Orange and Booker winners and long/short-listers... so... yes, as you can imagine, I'm utterly thrilled to have won. 

I'm especially happy that this is a library award, that my book has been borrowed and read and borrowed again, and that those same readers have cared enough to vote. I'm enormously grateful. As a child I had a voracious and unending appetite for books, and our local library in Chudleigh, Devon, was my second home. Without that service I think my parents would probably have struggled to fund my massive book habit (although I was also adept at rifling through old shoes and white elephants at school jumble sales, unearthing bookish gems). When I moved to Bristol in 2007, one of the the first things I did was to join the local library. 

I was sorry not to be able to attend the award ceremony, but I'm greatly looking forward to visiting a Redbridge library soon - to browse the shelves, meet some readers, and talk all things Summers. I've also heard rumours of a trophy with my name on it (figuratively, if not literally)... that's just too exciting. Thank you, Redbridge!