Here We Are, by the critically acclaimed author Graham Swift, is a typically understated delightful read that you cannot help but be enchanted by.
We first discover our three love triangle protagonists during the summer of 1959, in the holiday seaside resort of Brighton. Ronnie, known on stage as ‘Pablo’, is a young magician going places. His partner and able assistant is the young and beautiful Evie. The popular compere of their end of the pier show is a bit of a Jack-the-lad character, Jack Robinson.
This is a story told in both the past and present tense. Swift, artfully details significant aspects of their lives as the narrative moves forward. Reading this book was akin to peeling a red juicy apple, i.e. I wanted to keep on going. It was a nostalgic read, a wistful one, and a moving one at times too.
As with Swift’s brilliant novel Last Orders, the human condition and a character driven plot lie at the heart of Here We Are. Love, adultery, guilt, and grief, are all themes that are touched upon. These coupled with kindness and laughter along the way, all makes for a beautifully told emotive tale.
In a certain way, this novel felt a bit old fashioned. I mean this in a complimentary way though. In a fictional world now where some novels regrettably try to be too clever for their own good, this novel was refreshing because it was the exact antithesis to this.
A straightforward read that was captivating and moving throughout. 4/5.
Mayflies is a rather touching tale about the wonder of male friendship. Not perfect, but not rubbish by any means. If you are after a bit of 1980s Manchester and indie music nostalgia, then the first part of this book is for you.
The problem is though that the much darker second half is not as strong as the first. The debate about assisted dying is one worthy of exploration. However, I was never intensely moved like I had suspected I would be prior to reading.
Starting in a small Scottish town in the mid-to-late 1980s, we fondly get to know the lives of two best friends called Tully and James. In their late teenage years, these two boys share a love of indie music and movie line quotes. With respect to the latter passion, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning, being a particular favourite of theirs.
The author clearly no fan of 80s Thatcherism, shows how the escapism of music was vital to the existence of so many young people back then in Britain. With a group of friends our two protagonists decide to go and have a weekend of indie music heaven in Manchester.
Their Manchester escapades did get a tad tedious in places though. It was too drawn out. Admittedly, bits were interesting and entertaining to read. Nevertheless, if one is honest, then other parts verged on the slightly corny.
The second part picks up the action again in the Autumn of 2017. One of the characters is dying and so the topic of euthanasia is what the entire narrative is then shaped around. It must be acknowledged as well as praised, that both viewpoints are covered i.e., for and against. However, by the end I think it is very easy to deduce what position author Andrew O’Hagan holds.
Having earlier criticised this second half for not being intense enough, undoubtedly though the friendship of Tully and James is a touching aspect throughout. It made me think for example, of the close male friendships that I have in my life.
Overall, this is a thought provoking read, without ever being an immensely captivating one. I thought by the time I turned the last page, then I would be a blubbering wreck. I was not though much to my surprise.
Brilliant 80s Manchester nostalgia, but this got diluted by it becoming a book essentially about assisted dying. A good read, without it ever being an amazing one. I wanted more emotion, I wanted more tears, and ultimately I wanted to care more about them by the end. 3/5.
Male, forty-three going on forty-four, OCD sufferer, who likes to put the bins out for the neighbours and who hates radio phone-in shows. No, this is not my profile from the Plenty of Fish dating website, but it could be.
Instead, this describes Micah Mortimer, the central character in Anne Tyler’s latest great novel, Redhead by the Side of the Road.
The similarities between Micah and me are that similar that it caused me to laugh out loud as I read them. Therefore, I instantly bonded with this very likeable character. A perfectionist who is a nice guy with a good set of morals, yet another three things that accurately describe us both.
Set-in present-day Baltimore in the United States, we first find Micah plodding on through life. His life is ordinary doing a computer maintenance job that he just about tolerates. He has a girlfriend called Cass, but nothing seems exceptional about their relationship either.
Micah then gets a surprising visitor one day at his front door. It is this visitor that then mainly shapes the rest of the narrative. Could Micah really be a father after all these years?
There are two ways you can look at this book though. You could argue it is boring because not much happens (even with this surprise visitor). Whereas I fall in the second category, that appreciates a beautifully written story about the mundanity of life.
Narrative tension builds through Micah’s depression growing deeper. Without giving away anything crucial, it ends on a rather poignant note.
A modern-day story that superbly depicts the alienation of modern-day life. 4/5.
A zest for life is how I would best sum-up how I am feeling right now. You see, I am still on a high from the events of yesterday. I did an CBT exposure that I swore to everybody that I would never do, I sat down in a chair at my doctors.
For those of you who do not know my backstory, I was diagnosed with severe contamination OCD around the age of 16-17 years old. It mainly revolved around a fear of me standing in dog poo. Then, I had a massive trigger some 11-12 years ago, when I unknowingly sat in vomit at my local doctors.
As a result of this incident at the doctors, my OCD well and truly exploded. I completely withdrew from life. I became a recluse and for a good number of years I was just existing rather than living. I thought all my home was contaminated with the smell of sick. I threw everything away that I could, e.g. clothes, computer, mobile phones etc, etc.
I finally admitted to myself that I desperately needed professional help again. I saw a new mental healthcare team who were wonderful with me. The meds helped me enough for me to want to actively engage with CBT this time. Baby step by baby step, I did some great exposures.
Fast-forward twenty-four months, and my OCD had been good up to lockdown. I was not cured, but things were tonnes better than they had been. Then, coronavirus happened and I was seemingly trapped at home again due to being a type one diabetic. I was worried my OCD would get worse.
In lockdown I have had the odd OCD flare-up, but I have coped mainly by studying and exercising. Nevertheless, I have been conscious that outside the house I have not been doing enough exposures, i.e. cos I have not been going out anywhere.
Yesterday, I had my annual health review at my new doctors (not the place where I sat in sick all those years ago). Since that horrific incident at my last doctors, I have made a point of not sitting down on a chair in the waiting or treatment rooms at the new place. I feel a bit bad doing this though because I know it is me giving in to my OCD, i.e. cos I fear I might sit in sick again.
Once in the doctors and speaking to the healthcare assistant, I sort of perched my bum onto one of those patient beds that they have in such places. Then came her wanting to look at my feet. How was I going to take my boots and socks off whilst perched high in the air I wondered? She told me it was up to me though whether she looked at my feet. I wanted to cooperate with her fully, I did not want my OCD stopping me.
Next thing I know, I uttered words and did an action that I could never have envisaged myself ever doing again. “Sod it, I’ll sit down on the chair to make it easier for you”, I said. Therefore, FOR THE FIRST TIME IN OVER A DECADE, I SAT DOWN ON A CHAIR IN A DOCTORS!!
As I was sat down on the chair, I guess my nerves and anxiety were why I then went into chatterbox and funny-man Andy mode. I never stopped talking to her as well as trying to make her laugh. It was just my way of coping I suppose.
I was truly touched when this lovely healthcare assistant said to me at the end of my appointment, “you know, this is the best (OCD wise) you’ve been seeing me”. I am not good at taking compliments, so just replied, “oh, thank you”. Really though, I wanted to get up and hug her due to my emotions running so high.
Straight after leaving the doctors, 90% of me was chuffed with what I had just done. 10% of me though was worrying slightly if I had done the right thing by sitting down. I would just have to live with the fear until I got home I told myself. I then told my dear mum on the phone what had just happened, and she told me how proud of me she was.
I got home and smelt my jeans to make sure I had not sat in sick again. The relief was immense when I discovered I had not. I know this was giving into my OCD a bit (the smelling my jeans bit), but it is all about taking baby steps forwards in my eyes. Furthermore, I had not smelt them straight afterwards which was good. I had lived with the fear of not knowing about the jeans whilst I walked home.
As the rest of the day went by, then the prouder I got at what I had just done by finally sitting down at my doctors. IT TOOK ME OVER A DECADE TO DO IT, BUT I DID IT!!! I wanted to appear on the six o’clock news to tell the whole wide world my news (instead I did it on my Facebook and Twitter).
Twenty-four hours on and I am still feeling just as elated as I was when I went to bed last night. The events of yesterday feels like such a breakthrough moment for me. The task now is sitting down again at my doctors the next time I go. Repetition, repetition, repetition, this must be my CBT mantra like it has been so much in the past.
This zest for life feels so good. You want to know why? It is because I finally did it my friends, I FINALLY SAT DOWN AT MY DOCTORS!!!!
I first fell in love with the city of Liverpool, back in 1998. Stunning beauty and a sense of humour to die for. After reading the following, I want you to fall in love with Liverpool too!
Music
Music is what makes Liverpool come alive. Walk down any city centre street during the summer, and I guarantee you will hear some busker strumming along on their guitar. The Beatles in the 1960s, firmly put Liverpool on the map with their 17 chart number ones. The city pays homage to them with a multitude of tours and museums to experience.
The city with two cathedrals
You will not see two finer pieces of architecture than the two cathedrals in the city of Liverpool.The unique style and design of Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral is simply breathtaking. The Anglican Cathedral boasts being Britain’s biggest cathedral as well as 5th largest in Europe. Graduate from there like I did, and this place will hold a special place in your heart forevermore.
Culture
Having been the European Capital of Culture in 2008, Liverpool is a city absolutely drenched in culture. Did you know that it has more museums and galleries than anywhere else outside of London? It also has 2,500 listed buildings and 250 public monuments. My personal recommendation is visiting the Royal Liver Building with its two iconic Liver Birds.
Sport
Come to Liverpool and you will discover a north-west city that has sport running through its veins. Liverpool Football Club together with Everton Football Club, are both famous throughout the world and have stadium tours to enjoy. The Grand National is the world’s most famous steeplechase. It is watched by a staggering 600 million people worldwide.
Humour
People from Liverpool are called “scousers” and their quirky, mickey-taking sense of humour is a thing of pure delight. The key thing about people from Liverpool is that they do not take themselves too seriously. Come to Liverpool and you are certain to enjoy scouse banter!
Education
With a multitude of universities right on its doorstep, Liverpool has a thriving student population that gives the city a cosmopolitan feel. With all its culture and stimulating history, it really is one of the great places to study in.
From The Beatles, to the football teams, to the jaw-dropping architecture, Liverpool has something to offer everybody. That was my love letter to Liverpool. I do hope to see you again soon my dear old friend!
A humorous whodunit that keeps you guessing right until the end. This is the verdict of Richard Osman’s, The Thursday Murder Club. As the novel states at the back this therefore is, ‘his first and, so far, best novel.’
How to write a murder mystery review without giving anything away of the vital plot?
Well, imagine a funnier version of Miss Marple, DCI Jane Tennison (out of Prime Suspect), Taggart, and Hercule Poirot, all working together to solve a murder, and that pretty much sums up our four main characters. Joyce, Elizabeth, Ron, and Ibrahim are their names, and this group of septuagenarians each bring something different to this original narrative.
Set for the large part in an idyllic Kent retirement village called Coopers Chase, we soon learn about our four cape crusaders via them being members of a local community group called The Thursday Murder Club. This is where our four amateur sleuths meet up once a week to try and crack unresolved historical murder cases.
Soon into the story the equilibrium is disrupted when a murder takes place within quiet Coopers Chase. This is the opportunity our four elderly investigators have been waiting for. What follows is a whole series of twists and turns as they try and get to the truth.
This is a wonderful very English whodunit, that keeps on giving to the reader as the narrative unfolds. It is funny throughout (I laughed out loud several times), poignant, and also thrilling.
It does verge on the very unbelievable at times though, but not enough to ruin the original creative landscape created by the author. If you commit yourself fully to the story, then you will be repaid fully and then some.
Yes, the plot does get a tad tricky to fully comprehend towards the end, however it certainly is not impossible to grasp. The short chapters featuring very accessible language, further enhance this being an enjoyable read.
If you love your murder mysteries, then you really enjoy this well-crafted debut by Osman. A great bit of escapism to enjoy during these harsh winter months. A right page-turner that will have you laughing as well as guessing out loud. 4/5.
We are once again invited into the magical world of the inhabitants of Ivy Hatch, in Elizabeth Holland’s brand-new offering, Christmas at The Vintage Bookshop of Memories.
Readable as a standalone book or as a follow-up to the excellent The Vintage Bookshop of Memories, this once again is another welcome addition to the romance fiction genre.
Nonetheless, the characterisation and plot to The Vintage Bookshop of Memories, were that good that it was always going to be a tricky task when writing this sequel. Christmas at The Vintage Bookshop of Memories does not trump its predecessor. Therein lies the main problem with this book, it suffers by this comparison.
Regarding the narrative, we pick up the action again twelve months on from the last novel. Katie Wooster’s life is in turmoil with no job or place to live, but in a matter of days she is going to be bridesmaid to her best friend Prue Clemonte.
This is a story about the wonder of female friendship. There is also the chance of a new romance for Katie. The question is whether she has healed up enough from her last relationship that was emotionally abusive.
The author needs congratulating for it being such an easy read once more. Reading all about Ivy Hatch again felt like I was putting on a comfy pair of slippers at times.
However, I wanted more from the plot. I missed the drama and conflict of the first instalment. Maybe it was because this second book is shorter, but I found myself not caring as much about Katie, as I did with Prue in the first one. Everything was just a bit too nice.
I also was not that moved reading Christmas at The Vintage Bookshop of Memories. This could be an unfair criticism though when you consider this is supposed to be a heart-warming Christmas novel after all.
I guess what I am trying to say is that I liked this book rather than absolutely loving it. As a forty-three-year-old male, it needs to be acknowledged that I am sure I am not in Elizabeth’s target audience.
Overall, the final verdict is that if you want a joyful, easy Christmas read then this could be the book for you. I just wanted a bit more from it though. I wanted a bit more than friends reunited! 3/5.
The Vintage Bookshop of Memories by budding author Elizabeth Holland, is an enchanting romantic novel, that is the perfect antidote for these austere times that we currently all find ourselves in.
The biggest compliment to give The Vintage Bookshop of Memories, is that this is a better read than J.K. Rowling’s The Casual Vacancy. This is high praise indeed when you consider J.K’s status in the writing world. Some will argue the latter novel deals with much darker themes, e.g. rape, drug taking and bullying. However, the similar idyllic village settings, class conflict, and communities at war, are what make this an inescapable comparison.
The main character in The Vintage Bookshop of Memories, is likeable twenty-something year-old Prue Clemonte. We first find Prue at her grandmother’s funeral. Prue inherits most of the property in Ivy Hatch, but she quickly learns that the sitting tenants despised her late landowning grandmother.
Prue is not welcomed in the village by the locals and so her refuge is an old shut-down bookshop that her late mother has left her. It is Prue’s wish to restore this shop to its former glory, to honour her mother’s name.
Encased inside The Vintage Bookshop of Memories, is a whole host of Ivy Hatch secrets that become unearthed as the narrative develops. Can Prue’s relationship with fellow outsider Elliott Harrington, survive in this village where everybody knows one another’s business?
This book is not as dark as The Casual Vacancy, but neither by the same token is it as flimsy as say a Mills and Boon. The narrative has a nice, stimulating pace to it. It is funny in places, romantic, dramatic, and yet also intensely moving.
This is the second book I have now read of Elizabeth Holland’s, the first being the much darker, The Balance Between Life and Death. In both, I must congratulate Elizabeth’s easy reading style prose. This coupled with her short chapters, make her books an absolute reading delight (with great content of course).
Given the great quality of this novel, then it is quite staggering to discover that this is a self-published title. The more this author writes, then I can only see her work improving further still.
Remember and marvel at the name Elizabeth Holland. This is because big things are coming for her, this was a pleasure to read! 4.5/5.
You know you have enjoyed reading a piece of literature when at the end it has moved you to tears. You know you have enjoyed reading a story when you have not wanted it to end. Finally, you also know you have enjoyed reading a book when you are still thinking about it six to seven hours after finishing it. This all happened to me with Elizabeth Holland’s outstanding novella, The Balance Between Life and Death.
Before continuing this review, I need to admit to you that I personally know Elizabeth. Over the last seven to eight weeks, we have developed a quite beautiful friendship via social media. You see, we are both passionate about writing, as well as both suffering from ill mental health. Nevertheless, I promised my new friend that this does not disqualify me from being able to write an objective account about her work.
I had a strong desire to read this short novel because of its mental health subject matter. There are not enough novels out there that explicitly deal with it. Perfect by Rachel Joyce, which superbly depicts a character’s debilitating battle with OCD, is the only other one that immediately springs to mind that I have read. The Balance Between Life and Death, promised me mental health with romance, so I was more than intrigued.
As my opening paragraph indicates, this is a novella that ticks a lot of the right boxes. In some ways though it does not do it justice, just to describe this as a mental health story mixed with a dollop of romance. It deals with anxiety, grieving, love, and most impressively of all perhaps, it deals head-on with the still taboo subject matter of suicide. Regarding the latter aspect, various viewpoints are revealed about it, which I personally found great storytelling.
Elizabeth needs greatly applauding here for tackling such serious subject matter so early on in her writing career. She has taken a gamble, which could have so easily backfired on her if they had been handled in a careless way. The running themes of loss and trust throughout the story, are very sensitively written about.
The main character in the story is a female called Ana Adams. Ana is half PA and half receptionist to her boss Nadine, who runs a publishing company. Alongside her in the office are her junior colleague Grace, together with handsome new employee Noah. Ana has lots of emotional baggage though. It is this latter aspect that shapes the whole thrust of the narrative.
For a short story, the pace of it is perfect. It is an emotive tale throughout, yet at the same time there is some humour and light. I am thinking here of Ana’s numerous amusing exchanges she has with her much beloved dog Storm.
It is impressive that despite it being emotive throughout, narrative tension also builds up. This comes from central character Ana, being very likeable. The more I read on, then the more I found myself caring about her. I love how Ana is a multifaceted character, despite all her emotional baggage. This authentic, well-rounded representation of a sufferer with mental health issues, is important for it helps to breakdown the stigma that still exists in society today.
Overall, I thought The Balance Between Life and Death was a gripping read from start-to-finish. The easy style of writing and the everyday language used, means that this novella deserves to be read from far and wide.
World Mental Health Day, Saturday, October 10th, 2020. Time to celebrate my life. Time to tell the world what I have completely been through. Time to finally shout out loud, “I AM HAPPY TO BE ALIVE!”
“I WISH I WAS DEAD!” Breaking down and shouting these words out loud in the middle of an A-level Media Studies lesson, is a sad memory of mine that will live with me forever. Looking back, I now know that this was rather a cry for help. Help to end my suffering from severe contamination OCD.
Type one diabetes at 17 years old and diagnosed with OCD at 18. I loved sixth form, but dreaded walking to and from the bus stop. What if I walked in dog dirt I worried? What about going to the toilet too? At my worst, I was having at least three showers a day (using soap and bleach), due to going to the toilet making me feel all dirty and contaminated.
Here I am aged 22, in my student pose. Inside though I was really struggling with my OCD.
At home I was self-harming and rowing endlessly with my dad. Quite rightly, he was not happy at how I was treating my mum, regarding me yelling at her as she constantly decontaminated areas of the house for me. Around this time I tried getting help, but never really fully engaged with my therapists because I was too scared. I was too frightened of standing up to the bully that is OCD.
I lost my dad when I was 21, he died from heart disease. I had never lost anybody close to me before so was unsure how to grieve. I tried carrying on at university like everything was fine, except of course it was not. Eventually, it got to the stage where I could not talk or even just think about him without crying. I saw a bereavement counsellor which helped enormously.
I redid the year at university, but something was clearly not right with my physical health. I was needing to urinate all the time. As soon as I had gone, I wanted to go again straight away. I was in agony all inside my pelvic area too. All I wanted to do was to get my degree, become a Careers Counsellor, and get a girlfriend. I felt emasculated from my masculinity because I knew girls on my course fancied me, but I could not do anything about it due to feeling so unwell.
I had to have two investigations to rule out prostate cancer. They came back negative and eventually I was diagnosed with a condition called chronic bacterial prostatitis (a prostate infection). I was told I would have an irritable bladder for the rest of my life. The thing that kept me going throughout all this though was believing in hope. Hope that one day I would get over all of this. Graduating was my dream, and so nothing was going to stop me.
Eventually, I went back to university and I graduated I am pleased to report. My OCD dog dirt phobia though was raging at this time. We also had two mice at my university flat which was horrendous to deal with. Pelvic pain wise, I was in agony as well as suffering from numerous other physical ailments.
Here I am in 2008, finally achieving my dream of graduating. Little did I know though that my biggest OCD trauma was just around the corner!
To cut a long story short, I am not sure how I got through the next ten years. My physical health plummeted, and my OCD flared up in a way I had not thought possible up to that point. Regarding the former, I shall now list what I went through:
* Gallstones surgery
* Sinus surgery
* Hernia surgery
* Diagnosed with spondylolisthesis in my lumbar spine (complete fracture, for life)
* Diagnosed with chronic pelvic pain
* Diagnosed with primary lymphoedema in both my legs (for life)
Every new illness or condition that I got felt like another body blow to me. I was not sure how much more I could take. Again, throughout this time, all I wanted was just a professional career and a girlfriend. Was this too much to ask I endlessly wondered to myself?
This next bit is hard to write about because it is where my OCD exploded. I unknowingly sat in vomit at my local doctors. Except, I did not realise it until some twenty-four hours later, which meant I had spread the smell of sick all over the house. I became a recluse, suicidal, and started to self-harm once more.
I can still remember lying in bed back then (10-11 years ago), and being almost being too frightened to breathe in, because I was that petrified of smelling sick again. I threw all my beloved clothes away, my computer away, and demanded the house be decontaminated about a million times. I had reached rock bottom and things could not have got any worse.
A big turning pointing for me, was finally accepting that I needed help with my OCD. It started with me getting a second opinion on the NHS. This time this new mental healthcare team seemed to be immediately on my side. It felt like my last chance to get better, so I promised myself I would give it everything I had.
I started taking mental health medication for the first time in my life. I could not take tablets due to my sore pelvic floor issues, so my Psychiatrist suggested I try two in oral solution form. They were not a cure, but over time I noticed I was no longer too scared to actively participate in CBT (exposures).
I went shopping in supermarkets after TEN years of isolation. I walked around shopping centres, embracing the contamination anxiety that fully came my way. I wanted to travel on public transport again, so at the start, stood rather than sat down in trains and buses. It was like I had a chisel and hammer in my hands, and I had to keep chipping away at my OCD. Week by week I could feel myself improving.
Week by week I upped the exposures. I sat down in restaurants, went into pubs and bars (which I could never have seen myself doing ever again), and stopped throwing my new clothes away. I was not cured, but my OCD was manageable.
I also started going to my local gym and was amazed to discover that it really helped to decrease my chronic pelvic pain. I had experienced this awful condition for TWENTY-ODD YEARS. Before I got it, I was extremely active and played in various sports teams. The fact I could now exercise once more was huge progress for me. I am almost crying happy tears as I tell you this.
The mental health meds have saved me without a doubt. Furthermore, I also think I have finally saved MYSELF too. I finally started to stand up to my contamination fears. I stopped being the victim. I refused to give up on myself. Again, hope is what got me through the very dark times.
I guess you could say that I am now finally at peace with myself. I have forgiven myself with how I behaved back then with my loved ones regarding my OCD. There is no point looking back in anguish at how long it has taken me to get better because it is wasted energy. Instead, I must only look forwards which I am starting to do now.
Against all odds, I am finally ready to get a professional career in Copywriting that I absolutely crave. Against all odds, I am finally ready to fall in love. Against all odds, I am finally ready to admit to you that I am thankful to be ALIVE!
Here I am in 2019, a night out with friends and enjoying life. I could cry happy tears at how far I have come in my recovery from OCD!
Andy 'Scarfman' Lloyd's Blog 