At the end of the year I usually look over the books I’ve read. Life
has got in the way of my writing and reading recently, but I’ve read as
much as possible. For someone who used to read a book a week, the count
is pitiful, but I’ve tried. I thought I’d
post my reads of the last couple of years.
Forty-five books read in 2013, some of which were novellas, and half
of one carried over into 2014. Not the ‘improvement’ in the amount I’m
reading I had hoped for, but probably better than the year before. I
won’t list them all, just mention a few.
I got into the YA zombie books of Jonathan Maberry, and they are
surprisingly addictive. In January I must have been in a strange mood
because I read nothing but zombie books.
The Line of Beauty by Alan Hollinghurst was a bit of a
frustrating read for me. One of those books I realised was good once I’d
finished it. A glimpse into someone’s life during a set time in that
life — I guess that applies to most stories unless following a character
from birth unto death, but it felt as if it lacked enough resolution.
One of my favourite books of the year has to be Warm Bodies
by Isacc Marion. If you’ve seen the film, or even if you haven’t, read
the book. The film is better than I was expecting owing to trailers that
led me to think of a YA ‘popcorn’ movie; I feared they had turned the
book into a hokey joke. That’s not the case, but it’s a difficult book
to put across on the screen because it’s multi-layered. There’s a jokey
element to the book, but you quickly start to find little threads of
something darker, disturbing, upsetting, and even enlightening. This is
not a gory zombie horror book, nor is it a teen rom-com spoof. Hidden
within its pages is a celebration of life in all its messiness. Left me
smiling and with an immediate desire to read it again. Wish I’d written
it. Most unexpected read of the year.
Discovered China Mieville and Perdido Street Station. I’d only
read a couple of his short stories before, but am definitely now a
reader of his work. I’ve always loved Mervyn Peake’s work and can see
why people mention Mieville’s work in the same breath — if you like the
richness of Gormenghast then this is the only style I’ve come across
that comes close.
I read a few short romance stories in the markets I write for, including m/m. I won’t list them all, but The Blue Moon Cafe by Rick Reed is a good blend of m/m romance, werewolf horror, and homicide suspense.
Caught up on a couple of titles in J.R.Ward series ‘The Brotherhood’.
Likewise, still progressing through John Connolly’s work with The White Road, and The Black Angel. Other noteworthy titles were Camp David, by David Walliams, and The Night Circus, Erin Morgenstern.
Another discovery was Lois McMaster Bujold with her science fiction book The Warrior’s Apprentice.
I immediately set about gathering the rest of her titles and now have
them sitting in my TBR mountain. Miles Vorkosigan’s mother was exposed
to a poisonous gas during pregnancy. As a result, Miles is short, has
brittle bones, and a twisted spine. Despite this, his biggest hurdle is
probably a tendency to fling himself head long into crazy situations.
I’ve found the first book to be far lighter than I anticipated and yet
filled with characters and situations I immediately loved and felt drawn
to. From the writing I didn’t immediately know a woman had written
these. There’s also something of ‘nostalgic’ sci-fi about them, the sort
of space opera that even puts me to mind of Blake’s 7, although with a
far more humourous edge.
In July, I began reading Iain Banks. I was shocked to hear of his
death, and a couple of his books had been sitting on my shelves for at
least two years. I wasn’t sure what I thought of The Wasp Factory,
but I’ve since picked up more of his books and will keep reading. The
story is about Frank, a 16 year old living in a remove Scottish village.
He has a strange family, and the most peculiar tendencies towards
violence, which he manages to justify in his own warped way of thinking.
I found the whole book ‘peculiar’ and would love to know how the author
came up with such a strange and wonderfully twisted idea. Nothing like I
imagined it would be. He’s a writer I admire because (he has said) he
wasn’t getting far with what he wanted to write so he reinvented
himself; judging by his works, he as good as created his own genre.
The Last Kind Words, by Tom Piccirilli was an absorbing read
by a writer who has shown as much courageousness in his own life
recently as he has in his writing. (Note: Since I wrote this, alas Tom
lost his fight with brain cancer and is another great loss to the
writing world.) I came across him many years ago when I was a fledgling
writer and his small book ‘Welcome to Hell’ warned me what I was in for.
Another writer we sadly lost recently was James Herbert, and so I read the last of his works: Ash. I was reading James when I was teen, and he’s been something of a comfortable and familiar British institution.
Pradee
by fellow Musa author Clarissa Johal wasn’t what I expected. Her tale
of ‘critters’ accused of poisoning one of the Elders in their village
sets them in search of an artifact that allows one to see the past and
change the future…but should they use it? I can see why the write up for
the book refers to the tradition of The Dark Crystal by Jim Henson and
Frank Oz. I felt it could do with a slight tidy, but was otherwise
delightful and has great potential. Should be in the hands of a large
children’s publisher.
One of my favourite authors is Christopher Moore, and I added another of his titles to my ‘read’ pile with Fluke
— an amusing and surprising tale/tail that takes the reader beneath the
sea. His work is zany in an intelligent way. All his books have his
familiar style yet in another sense they could be called multi-genre as
one may be about god, whales, zombies, or some voodoo queen on a
mysterious isle. You kind of have to appreciate touches of Douglas Adams
to like C.Moore. Fluke is about marine behavioural biologist,
Nate Quinn, and begins on the day he sees a whale lift its tail to
reveal the words ‘Bite Me’ on its flukes. It completely had me going and
guessing and even when I thought I had it figured out, the truth was
even more bizarre. Great fun.
I’ve loved The Dark Tower series by Stephen King; however, while The Wind Through the Keyhole was a pleasant read, but I cannot say it adds to the series in any particular way. One for the fans of Roland’s quest.
I picked up a signed copy of The Winter Ghosts, by Kate Mosse
and was really looking forward to it. I admire the weaving of this tale
from the research, but it felt too short, and from the blurb I expected
something with more emotional attachment and just ‘bigger’ somehow.
Don’t think I’m giving much away to say pleasant, somewhat historically
interesting, but lightweight ghost story. A case of the blurb outshining
the contents more than a little, making for higher expectations.
I finished the year and began the next with Under The Dome, by
Stephen King It’s the sort of book he does so well and the perfect
example of why I don’t think of him as a horror writer. His books are
very character driven and apart from the paranormal aspect of this book
(the dome itself) it’s very mainstream. The internal politics of the
town, the way some characters hold it together in the face of adversity
or turn on each other, even commit murder was very well done. It’s a
lovely piece of writing. I was impressed with the research and then
laughed when King admits in the back that he asked someone to help him
with that. Anyone who likes crime or mysteries might also like this
book. I was a little disappointed in the ’cause of the dome’ but I
couldn’t see any other possible explanation he could have used. King
tends to say some stories are about the journey rather than the
destination, and I agree. This is all about the people in the town.
Having since seen the first two episodes of the series, my advice is
read the book.
Writer of Dark Fiction
Monday, March 28, 2016
Thursday, March 24, 2016
A Postcard from Iceland
Iceland gets much of its heating from geothermal
activity; this coupled with electricity is the basis for their energy
supplies. Their utility bills are very cheap. At Akureyri, we saw the
large metal pipe that runs uphill alongside the road. This pumps hot
water into the houses for heating purposes. A pity I didn’t take a
snapshot. I thought a pipe a boring thing to take a photo of but later
realised that it was a good example of Icelandic life. While these cheap
energy bills sound wonderful, let’s not forget they do have a cold
climate for most of the year although it is far milder than many expect,
but changes quickly. All four seasons can be experienced in one day (so
not entirely unlike Britain). They also live with the threat of
volcanic activity. At the time we were there, they were awaiting another
‘event’ anytime ‘soon’. During the summer, they have very long days,
and during the winter very long nights. During our visit, the sun was
setting after midnight and rising about three hours later.
The landscape is one of bleak but fascinating lava fields — there’s a reason many refer to it as a moonscape — and bright green verdant rolling hills up into the mountains. Just to make this clear: Iceland is green. Greenland is ice. Iceland is second in size to Britain as the largest island in Europe, situated roughly 235 miles off Scotland. The land area is approximately 40,000 square miles. Not all of their small off-shore islands are inhabited. The island of Surtsey appeared in 1963 owing to a volcanic eruption, which lasted four years. Largest of the glaciers, Vatnajokull, is eight times the size of Mount Etna in Sicily with ice half a mile thick in places. The coastline consists of numerous inlets and fjords.
There are no trees to speak of. The first settlers made the mistake of not realising their native species were very slow growing and they cut down all their forests. They are making headway into the replanting, but the trees are still young and small. There’s a saying in Iceland: if you get lost in an Icelandic forest, stand up.
Reykjavik is the northernmost capital in the world, and the only capital city in Iceland, holding around one-third of the population of approximately 300,000. Everything in the city is modern — it’s the main centre of government, industry, culture and commerce. The oldest building (originally a storage shed) dates back to 1752. Most places of historic interest can be found in the ‘old’ sector, and the city is overlooked by Mount Esja.
We also visited nearby Halnarfjordur — a town situated on an ancient lava flow. Kleifarvatn Lake is one of Iceland’s deepest and is on the way to the Krysuvik geothermal fields. Here bubbling pools of water and mud, and jets of steam blip and hiss away from a red and grey landscape more suited to a science fiction setting. While visiting the site, the advice is stick to the paths. The ground can look solid where it is not and every year they have incidents of tourists not paying attention or thinking they can go where they like only to sink their feet into acid or boiling water over 200 degrees. This will mean the loss of skin and in some cases even amputation.
The Blue Lagoon is a famous natural hot pool situated on the Reykjanes peninsula near the village of Grindavik and can be visited both to view or to bathe in. We chose not to bathe, but the view of the surrounding lava fields and nearby geothermal power station adds to the feeling of this being an alien landscape. The waters bubble up from 5,000 feet below the earth’s surface with, it is said, excellent therapeutic benefits. The products made from the geothermal mud are extremely pricey. The water looks very pale blue, even blue-grey.
At the Viking World Museum (Vikingaheimar), you can stand in an authentic replica of a Viking ship, Islendingur. The exhibition has been produced with the co-operation from the Smithsonian.
Isofjordur (population 3000) situated in the Westfjords is the largest town of this remote and beautiful region. Indeed, it’s one of the most sparsely populated areas in Iceland with a total of inhabitants numbering under 10,000, and with less than 5% of cultivated land. The town sits on a curved inlet surrounded by towering mountains.
Although the Icelandic shrimp industry certainly began here, the
fishing industry is in decline (one of the reason the village of
Hesteyri, which we visited, became abandoned when the herring up and
‘moved’ as they tend to do). Historically the Westfjords are famous for
their witch and wizard trials with the last wizard being burnt at the
stake in 1656. It’s a great area in which to spot dolphins, terns and
puffins among other wildlife.
Taking a boat from Isafjordur, we were ferried over to The Abandoned Village of Hesteyri, instantly falling in love with the peninsula that many mistake for an island. It is possible to get to Hesteyri by other means, but a boat is the easiest if one does not wish to hike. Back when Hesteyri was occupied a local said he did the hike from the nearest inhabitants in three hours. More recently some extremely fit hikers planned to break this record and took five hours to complete the same walk. The people who originally occupied the area were extremely hardy.
The people lived here without telephone, electricity or roads. They made the united decision to leave in the late 1940s, and the village has been abandoned since 1952. Life here was difficult. There was little to live on — some livestock the people brought with them, ‘sea cabbage’ (aka seaweed), and what little they managed to grow. However, there used to be a herring factory — today only the tower can be seen standing — but the herring has a habit of ‘moving house’. When the herring went away, so did the industry.
There is a cemetery on the headland with the last person to be buried here in 2006 — an original resident who loved it so much she wanted to return even in death. There are other stories like hers, including the one where a cow that was taken from there immediately stopped milking. It’s said the owner returned with the cow and even before reaching land, the cow jumped out of the boat, swam to shore, and immediately began milking again. Whether there’s any truth to the story, it’s easy to see how people could fall in love with the place. It’s simply beautiful, peaceful, and memorable. As our guide said, take a moment to enjoy the silence. Travellers stopping there today are guided by the descendants of the original inhabitants who still own the houses and end their visit with coffee and pancakes at the former doctor’s house. The sand here is black.
Akureyri is 272 miles from Reykjavik and is a thriving centre of commerce. It’s only 60 miles from the Arctic Circle, yet is surprisingly warm in summer and boasts much in the way of industry — a freezing plant and shipyards among others (and an airport landing strip) — with what some would claim a superior economy and sophistication in its selection of shopping, culture, entertainment and sporting facilities. It is here that a large silver pipe can be seen running along the side of the road — this pumps hot water into houses for heating.
Godafess waterfalls are approximately 31 miles from
Akureyri. The ‘Falls of the Gods’ can best be described as a
mini-Niagara in shape; although the volume of water cannot compete it
still has to drop 30 feet and flows in such torrents to make a
spectacular sight.
Husavik Harbour sits at the base and length of the pretty town and houses the award-winning Husavik Whale Centre. We often find many museums in Europe quite peculiar; however, this was educational and interesting. It’s also home to many whale skeletons obtained from washed-up and stranded whales who have died. We found these quite surprising — they were very ‘prehistoric’ in appearance, something we would not have discovered had we not visited.
We stopped for a meal in a local seafood restaurant here — just a white fish and rice dish that was delicious. Not sure what the fish was but we were being careful as we had been warned in Iceland they (rightly) waste nothing, so dishes with offal are not uncommon and even broiled puffin can be found on some menus.
The highlight of Husavik was Whale Watching. The area boasts a high chance of seeing whales with over half of the world’s thirty-six species to be found in Icelandic waters. On the day we went out, we were told we had a 98 or 99% chance. We witnessed the rare sight of breaching humpbacks. Then the most amazing OMG extremely rare moment of ‘follow that whale’ — yes, the ‘captain’ of the boat did as good shout we were going to follow that whale when he spotted the air spout from a distance and ‘went for it’ because what he had seen was a blue whale. We saw not one, but two blue whales that day — very uncommon. Though the true heart plummeting moment arrives when you realise how difficult this is to capture on film, no matter how good your camera.
The landscape is one of bleak but fascinating lava fields — there’s a reason many refer to it as a moonscape — and bright green verdant rolling hills up into the mountains. Just to make this clear: Iceland is green. Greenland is ice. Iceland is second in size to Britain as the largest island in Europe, situated roughly 235 miles off Scotland. The land area is approximately 40,000 square miles. Not all of their small off-shore islands are inhabited. The island of Surtsey appeared in 1963 owing to a volcanic eruption, which lasted four years. Largest of the glaciers, Vatnajokull, is eight times the size of Mount Etna in Sicily with ice half a mile thick in places. The coastline consists of numerous inlets and fjords.
There are no trees to speak of. The first settlers made the mistake of not realising their native species were very slow growing and they cut down all their forests. They are making headway into the replanting, but the trees are still young and small. There’s a saying in Iceland: if you get lost in an Icelandic forest, stand up.
Reykjavik is the northernmost capital in the world, and the only capital city in Iceland, holding around one-third of the population of approximately 300,000. Everything in the city is modern — it’s the main centre of government, industry, culture and commerce. The oldest building (originally a storage shed) dates back to 1752. Most places of historic interest can be found in the ‘old’ sector, and the city is overlooked by Mount Esja.
We also visited nearby Halnarfjordur — a town situated on an ancient lava flow. Kleifarvatn Lake is one of Iceland’s deepest and is on the way to the Krysuvik geothermal fields. Here bubbling pools of water and mud, and jets of steam blip and hiss away from a red and grey landscape more suited to a science fiction setting. While visiting the site, the advice is stick to the paths. The ground can look solid where it is not and every year they have incidents of tourists not paying attention or thinking they can go where they like only to sink their feet into acid or boiling water over 200 degrees. This will mean the loss of skin and in some cases even amputation.
The Blue Lagoon is a famous natural hot pool situated on the Reykjanes peninsula near the village of Grindavik and can be visited both to view or to bathe in. We chose not to bathe, but the view of the surrounding lava fields and nearby geothermal power station adds to the feeling of this being an alien landscape. The waters bubble up from 5,000 feet below the earth’s surface with, it is said, excellent therapeutic benefits. The products made from the geothermal mud are extremely pricey. The water looks very pale blue, even blue-grey.
At the Viking World Museum (Vikingaheimar), you can stand in an authentic replica of a Viking ship, Islendingur. The exhibition has been produced with the co-operation from the Smithsonian.
Isofjordur (population 3000) situated in the Westfjords is the largest town of this remote and beautiful region. Indeed, it’s one of the most sparsely populated areas in Iceland with a total of inhabitants numbering under 10,000, and with less than 5% of cultivated land. The town sits on a curved inlet surrounded by towering mountains.
Taking a boat from Isafjordur, we were ferried over to The Abandoned Village of Hesteyri, instantly falling in love with the peninsula that many mistake for an island. It is possible to get to Hesteyri by other means, but a boat is the easiest if one does not wish to hike. Back when Hesteyri was occupied a local said he did the hike from the nearest inhabitants in three hours. More recently some extremely fit hikers planned to break this record and took five hours to complete the same walk. The people who originally occupied the area were extremely hardy.
The people lived here without telephone, electricity or roads. They made the united decision to leave in the late 1940s, and the village has been abandoned since 1952. Life here was difficult. There was little to live on — some livestock the people brought with them, ‘sea cabbage’ (aka seaweed), and what little they managed to grow. However, there used to be a herring factory — today only the tower can be seen standing — but the herring has a habit of ‘moving house’. When the herring went away, so did the industry.
There is a cemetery on the headland with the last person to be buried here in 2006 — an original resident who loved it so much she wanted to return even in death. There are other stories like hers, including the one where a cow that was taken from there immediately stopped milking. It’s said the owner returned with the cow and even before reaching land, the cow jumped out of the boat, swam to shore, and immediately began milking again. Whether there’s any truth to the story, it’s easy to see how people could fall in love with the place. It’s simply beautiful, peaceful, and memorable. As our guide said, take a moment to enjoy the silence. Travellers stopping there today are guided by the descendants of the original inhabitants who still own the houses and end their visit with coffee and pancakes at the former doctor’s house. The sand here is black.
Akureyri is 272 miles from Reykjavik and is a thriving centre of commerce. It’s only 60 miles from the Arctic Circle, yet is surprisingly warm in summer and boasts much in the way of industry — a freezing plant and shipyards among others (and an airport landing strip) — with what some would claim a superior economy and sophistication in its selection of shopping, culture, entertainment and sporting facilities. It is here that a large silver pipe can be seen running along the side of the road — this pumps hot water into houses for heating.
Husavik Harbour sits at the base and length of the pretty town and houses the award-winning Husavik Whale Centre. We often find many museums in Europe quite peculiar; however, this was educational and interesting. It’s also home to many whale skeletons obtained from washed-up and stranded whales who have died. We found these quite surprising — they were very ‘prehistoric’ in appearance, something we would not have discovered had we not visited.
We stopped for a meal in a local seafood restaurant here — just a white fish and rice dish that was delicious. Not sure what the fish was but we were being careful as we had been warned in Iceland they (rightly) waste nothing, so dishes with offal are not uncommon and even broiled puffin can be found on some menus.
The highlight of Husavik was Whale Watching. The area boasts a high chance of seeing whales with over half of the world’s thirty-six species to be found in Icelandic waters. On the day we went out, we were told we had a 98 or 99% chance. We witnessed the rare sight of breaching humpbacks. Then the most amazing OMG extremely rare moment of ‘follow that whale’ — yes, the ‘captain’ of the boat did as good shout we were going to follow that whale when he spotted the air spout from a distance and ‘went for it’ because what he had seen was a blue whale. We saw not one, but two blue whales that day — very uncommon. Though the true heart plummeting moment arrives when you realise how difficult this is to capture on film, no matter how good your camera.
Monday, March 21, 2016
A Postcard from Norway
Bit of a re-post: our first experience of Norway not so long ago:
Norway is a rich country in that it has low unemployment (3%) and has far more jobs available than it does population to fill them. They have many workers coming from the EU, sometimes for a few weeks or six months. Few stay. Many come for a season and then return home. They employ many Polish during strawberry-picking time. They’d never get the crops picked if they didn’t. Everything in Norway is pricey but then they earn high salaries, so what may seem expensive to outsiders isn’t so much to those living there. There is a zero tolerance for alcohol abuse, and it is very heavily taxed. Around £6-8 for a beer is not unusual.
The landscape is one of contrasts from the cities to Norway at its wildest. It’s green with many forests, snow-topped mountains, and ice-blue glaciers, deep waters, turquoise lakes, and tumbling waterfalls.
Alesund in western Norway sits on one of seven islands connected by bridges and a tunnel beneath the sea. Much of the town is new; however, it has been rebuilt in the Art Nouveau style after 850 of the wooden houses were destroyed in a blaze that began on 23rd January 1904. Alesund is a leading fishing port and commercial centre and has growing tourism owing to its fine situation boasting many local scenic fjords and mountains.
The town itself is good to wander around, with everything a tourist
could want of historical interest, galleries, restaurants, shops and
cafes, and the local Atlantic sea park just out of town is apparently
worth a visit. We didn’t have long to linger here, and it had been a
hard choice between visiting the town and taking a trip out. Deciding
that Alesund is mentioned in many trips and that we may well one day
return, we took a coach excursion out to Trollstigen (Land of the Trolls
road). When we returned we discovered we had made the right choice. The
weather had been especially bad, and the town obscured in a murky fog
for much of the day. Had we gone up to the viewing point, we wouldn’t
have been able to enjoy the sights.
Our trip began with a drive through the picturesque countryside. Unlike Iceland, Norway has plenty of forests among deep valleys surrounded by mountainous countryside, capped with white. We stopped at Andalsnes for the famous Troll Wall — a vertical mountain face, approximately, 3,280 feet high. The rest of the trip was through Romsdalsfjord over the Orskog mountain plateau.
Most reactions to our saying we were going to take the Troll’s path were, “Hell, no!” We ascended this mountain peak with its 11 hairpin bends, stopping to admire the tumbling waterfalls, and take some snapshots from the viewing platforms at the top — after being told they were made of rusty metal. While this seemed to be stated with some pride, it hardly inspired confidence, but the photos we took were well worth the ‘risk’ and walking the 138 steps to reach there.
Somehow, a Troll ‘married couple’ managed to find their way home by smuggling themselves inside our luggage.
During the day, we stopped off at ‘the Strawberry Cottage’ and enjoyed one of the best meals we’ve ever had on a trip out in a long time. The owner is apparently very proud of her establishment and seems to have the right. A buffet of fresh prawn salad, feta salad, pasta salad, potato salad, salmon mouse, baked salmon, smoked salmon, flat bread, fresh bread, and hot: potatoes, smoked ham, pork, meatballs, and yes, even reindeer stew — probably cheap and definitely normal to the locals (numbers hunted are regulated). Dessert was nut cake, cloudberry mousse, and bowls of fresh Norwegian strawberries. We thoroughly recommend Norwegian strawberries!
Although set in typical beautiful Norwegian scenery, Olden doesn’t have much going for the tourist, but many stop here in order to visit one of the nearby glaciers. Three villages lie in the area, each with their own lake and an associated glacier. Of the local population (under 7000 — 1000 in Olden) the region’s trade mainly consists of farming, fruit growing and other types of industry, and tourism. It’s situated amidst towering mountainside in a wide valley. The closest glacier is Briksdal, although we decided to head further out and visit another — the Kjenndalen Glacier above Lovatnet Lake.
Although the day was changeable and we had some rain this did little
to detract from the beauty of Lovatnet Lake, with its stunning
surrounding scenery and turquoise waters — the colour is an illusion.
After ‘lunch’ of local waffles eaten with strawberry jam and sour cream
(although their version of sour cream is creamery than ours in the UK),
we carried on to Kjennadalen Glacier. The weather cleared up just in
time to view the torrent of water leading from the surrounding mountains
and for us to photograph the ‘fantasy’ spectacle of the blue and white
glacier.
Our final destination in Norway was Stavanger…and the sun came out. In fact, after feeling comfortably ‘cool’ for so long it felt incredibly hot, although nothing like the 30+ degrees people were suffering at home. While at the port we decided to spend our time walking around town, which is a strange mixture of old and new. Behind the delightful road of old Stavanger, modern apartment blocks soar, although while exploring the pedestrian streets of old wooden buildings it’s possible to forget the rest of the town exists. There are 173 of the 18th-century wooden houses, all painted white and connected by lines of cobbled streets, retaining their old-fashioned charm even down to the lampposts. If looking for local crafts, this is a good place. There aren’t many artisans, but at least what you see is made here and far better than most items aimed at tourists, which often consists of jumpers no locals ever wear, socks, and strange knitted hats.
We then headed around the harbour, spotting a couple of the many
statues situated in the town, passing the local fish market (feeling
sorry for the caught crabs sitting in the tanks), avoiding the market
stalls (tourist traps), to the cafes, restaurants and shops painted in
contrasting bright colours. We eventually bought some more strawberries
and ate them by the cathedral. Sadly, this was the final day visiting
Norway, and it was time to head home to the UK, but this is sure to
remain one of our favourite destinations for future travel.
Norway is a rich country in that it has low unemployment (3%) and has far more jobs available than it does population to fill them. They have many workers coming from the EU, sometimes for a few weeks or six months. Few stay. Many come for a season and then return home. They employ many Polish during strawberry-picking time. They’d never get the crops picked if they didn’t. Everything in Norway is pricey but then they earn high salaries, so what may seem expensive to outsiders isn’t so much to those living there. There is a zero tolerance for alcohol abuse, and it is very heavily taxed. Around £6-8 for a beer is not unusual.
The landscape is one of contrasts from the cities to Norway at its wildest. It’s green with many forests, snow-topped mountains, and ice-blue glaciers, deep waters, turquoise lakes, and tumbling waterfalls.
Alesund in western Norway sits on one of seven islands connected by bridges and a tunnel beneath the sea. Much of the town is new; however, it has been rebuilt in the Art Nouveau style after 850 of the wooden houses were destroyed in a blaze that began on 23rd January 1904. Alesund is a leading fishing port and commercial centre and has growing tourism owing to its fine situation boasting many local scenic fjords and mountains.
Our trip began with a drive through the picturesque countryside. Unlike Iceland, Norway has plenty of forests among deep valleys surrounded by mountainous countryside, capped with white. We stopped at Andalsnes for the famous Troll Wall — a vertical mountain face, approximately, 3,280 feet high. The rest of the trip was through Romsdalsfjord over the Orskog mountain plateau.
Most reactions to our saying we were going to take the Troll’s path were, “Hell, no!” We ascended this mountain peak with its 11 hairpin bends, stopping to admire the tumbling waterfalls, and take some snapshots from the viewing platforms at the top — after being told they were made of rusty metal. While this seemed to be stated with some pride, it hardly inspired confidence, but the photos we took were well worth the ‘risk’ and walking the 138 steps to reach there.
Somehow, a Troll ‘married couple’ managed to find their way home by smuggling themselves inside our luggage.
During the day, we stopped off at ‘the Strawberry Cottage’ and enjoyed one of the best meals we’ve ever had on a trip out in a long time. The owner is apparently very proud of her establishment and seems to have the right. A buffet of fresh prawn salad, feta salad, pasta salad, potato salad, salmon mouse, baked salmon, smoked salmon, flat bread, fresh bread, and hot: potatoes, smoked ham, pork, meatballs, and yes, even reindeer stew — probably cheap and definitely normal to the locals (numbers hunted are regulated). Dessert was nut cake, cloudberry mousse, and bowls of fresh Norwegian strawberries. We thoroughly recommend Norwegian strawberries!
Although set in typical beautiful Norwegian scenery, Olden doesn’t have much going for the tourist, but many stop here in order to visit one of the nearby glaciers. Three villages lie in the area, each with their own lake and an associated glacier. Of the local population (under 7000 — 1000 in Olden) the region’s trade mainly consists of farming, fruit growing and other types of industry, and tourism. It’s situated amidst towering mountainside in a wide valley. The closest glacier is Briksdal, although we decided to head further out and visit another — the Kjenndalen Glacier above Lovatnet Lake.
Our final destination in Norway was Stavanger…and the sun came out. In fact, after feeling comfortably ‘cool’ for so long it felt incredibly hot, although nothing like the 30+ degrees people were suffering at home. While at the port we decided to spend our time walking around town, which is a strange mixture of old and new. Behind the delightful road of old Stavanger, modern apartment blocks soar, although while exploring the pedestrian streets of old wooden buildings it’s possible to forget the rest of the town exists. There are 173 of the 18th-century wooden houses, all painted white and connected by lines of cobbled streets, retaining their old-fashioned charm even down to the lampposts. If looking for local crafts, this is a good place. There aren’t many artisans, but at least what you see is made here and far better than most items aimed at tourists, which often consists of jumpers no locals ever wear, socks, and strange knitted hats.
Friday, March 18, 2016
So You Want to be a Writer...
I’ve been asked a few questions on how to write, or what it’s like to
be a writer, so I intend to includ the occasional post in an attempt to
answer the impossible. Just like marketing, what applies to one person,
won’t be relevant to another, though some things are common to all. So
for a first ‘you want to be a writer’ blog…
Don’t. Go and do something else. Anything else. Go and do something less soul-destroying.
Still here? Good.
That’s 50% of the battle won. Now I’m going to contradict myself and say if you want to write, if you possess any ability, it’s one of the most rewarding things you’ll ever do. Also, one of the hardest.
Writing is WORK. Anyone ever tells you a different story doesn’t know what he or she is talking about. The task should be, and is, fun. Equally, it’s a job.
Publishing is a chore, and may influence the decision to continue as a hobby writer or to try for publication. The option of self-publishing exists these days, and there can be reasons for careful consideration, but that’s a separate subject. Hardly anything worthwhile in life is easy, and even when published, the hard work never ceases, doesn’t get any easier. No one throws rose petals at your feet. In the decade of the internet troll, you’re more likely to find manure tossed into your path. I’m not joking. Go read a few reviews of classic well-loved books and soak up the vitriol. No matter how successful, or good someone may be in any field, unwarranted abuse is guaranteed.
Some may be reading with a frown, images of Diane Keaton sitting in front of a large desk, a panoramic view of the beach through the window dancing in their heads (trust me, Something’s Gotta Give may have been a good film, but it did nothing to give a realistic outlook of what it is to be a writer). Some reading this blog will be thinking of J.K. and a certain wizard, the author sweeping down a red carpet at a London première of a blockbuster made from one of her publications. This kind of success ‘can’ occur, but ask any novelist if life started out that way and they’ll tell you a very different story. King remembers deciding whether to buy medicine for his child or to pay the telephone bill. He rightly chose the medication. Many authors understand poverty — poverty may have even been one of the things to push them, kept them going when refusal and harsh words made them wonder why they were putting themselves through the suffering.
That’s the problem with writing: heartache is involved. Rejection. Edits. Reviews. A writer runs the gamut of emotions at every level, and even when they achieve a flourishing career, the despondency doesn’t cease unless one learns how to cope. Maybe not even then. Writers are risk-takers. They risk rejection every day.
Hearing all this, you may well ask if writing is worth the time and effort, or a mug’s game. It depends on opinion but, alas, some restrictions to the industry bode ill and creates angst for novelists, editors, publishers, and agents alike, most of which the majority of readers remain unaware. First-time writers often learn the hard way.
If you have ever heard someone of an older generation say, ‘If only I knew back then what I know now’ you will recognise the true meaning of the adage after writing for a few months, when ready to submit.
To simplify: if this is only a passing fancy, you don’t adore books, and you aren’t one of those who understand that writers write because they ‘have to’ rather than want to, I advise to go find a less distressing occupation. If you’re someone who cannot envision a life without writing, then jump right in with the rest of the wonderful crazy authors who create magical worlds, entertain us, and make us question life by turns. It’s good to be here.
Don’t. Go and do something else. Anything else. Go and do something less soul-destroying.
Still here? Good.
That’s 50% of the battle won. Now I’m going to contradict myself and say if you want to write, if you possess any ability, it’s one of the most rewarding things you’ll ever do. Also, one of the hardest.
Writing is WORK. Anyone ever tells you a different story doesn’t know what he or she is talking about. The task should be, and is, fun. Equally, it’s a job.
Publishing is a chore, and may influence the decision to continue as a hobby writer or to try for publication. The option of self-publishing exists these days, and there can be reasons for careful consideration, but that’s a separate subject. Hardly anything worthwhile in life is easy, and even when published, the hard work never ceases, doesn’t get any easier. No one throws rose petals at your feet. In the decade of the internet troll, you’re more likely to find manure tossed into your path. I’m not joking. Go read a few reviews of classic well-loved books and soak up the vitriol. No matter how successful, or good someone may be in any field, unwarranted abuse is guaranteed.
Some may be reading with a frown, images of Diane Keaton sitting in front of a large desk, a panoramic view of the beach through the window dancing in their heads (trust me, Something’s Gotta Give may have been a good film, but it did nothing to give a realistic outlook of what it is to be a writer). Some reading this blog will be thinking of J.K. and a certain wizard, the author sweeping down a red carpet at a London première of a blockbuster made from one of her publications. This kind of success ‘can’ occur, but ask any novelist if life started out that way and they’ll tell you a very different story. King remembers deciding whether to buy medicine for his child or to pay the telephone bill. He rightly chose the medication. Many authors understand poverty — poverty may have even been one of the things to push them, kept them going when refusal and harsh words made them wonder why they were putting themselves through the suffering.
That’s the problem with writing: heartache is involved. Rejection. Edits. Reviews. A writer runs the gamut of emotions at every level, and even when they achieve a flourishing career, the despondency doesn’t cease unless one learns how to cope. Maybe not even then. Writers are risk-takers. They risk rejection every day.
Hearing all this, you may well ask if writing is worth the time and effort, or a mug’s game. It depends on opinion but, alas, some restrictions to the industry bode ill and creates angst for novelists, editors, publishers, and agents alike, most of which the majority of readers remain unaware. First-time writers often learn the hard way.
If you have ever heard someone of an older generation say, ‘If only I knew back then what I know now’ you will recognise the true meaning of the adage after writing for a few months, when ready to submit.
To simplify: if this is only a passing fancy, you don’t adore books, and you aren’t one of those who understand that writers write because they ‘have to’ rather than want to, I advise to go find a less distressing occupation. If you’re someone who cannot envision a life without writing, then jump right in with the rest of the wonderful crazy authors who create magical worlds, entertain us, and make us question life by turns. It’s good to be here.
Wednesday, March 16, 2016
The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly
Originally posted on my main site on 9 November 2015; the work has since been finished:
The good part of living in a refurbishment project is seeing progress, a job well done. The bad is having to do the work at all. This is not our first renovation. This is the first we’ve lived in while doing this much labour and the only one where we needed major help. Some of the jobs were beyond us, this time; we had to hire a builder. Good thing we knew of one well-respected.
People keep asking if the house required so much work why we bought it. Almost every house demanded restoration. We even upped the budget and were shocked to find homes seldom in better condition. Sometimes the properties were no bigger so the higher price tag was often confusing. We chose this house because, as with every move, it’s hard to locate a decent garden.
When I say refurbishment, I’m not talking redecoration. The trials of painting and wallpapering hold no fears. We could have finished a simple facelift in a month. Any relocation will likely require more than pretty embellishments. In these economic times, it’s difficult to judge how much someone should spend on their home, but owners will find that neglect may hit them in the resale value of their property; conceivably, this will also affect the price when the survey arrives on the purchaser’s doorstep. Any offer should be ‘subject to survey’ though buyers often ignore points that arise in the report. Even if they try to renegotiate the expenditure, the seller is angry because we all consider our homes to be worth more than they likely are in reality if not maintained. We’ve never sold a home with a serious defect, yet frequently experienced the frustration of a buyer ‘trying it on’, haggling over inconsequentials (in one instance a non-existent never-having-existed shed). Insignificant details aside, ignore real flaws, pocket all profits, and homeowners are going to be in for a shock when claiming on home insurance. Everything is ‘regulation’ now. We know this personally. A friend tried to apply for compensation for a broken window only to be told, “Not Fensa? Sorry, not covered.”
On a more serious note, if a house fire caused by ancient wiring doesn’t bring about a loss of life there’s likely to be a forfeiture of property because if insurance can find a way to back out of paying, they will. What better way than owner responsibility? An ugly truth doesn’t make it less true. So yes, apart from a couple of trifles, we’ve done everything that came up on the surveyor’s investigation…for our own benefit, and also for resale; we want no problems.
This weekend we removed the dirt from almost all of the woodwork (I could swear the last owners hadn’t cleaned this house in twenty years) and the base layer of the stairway is finished. We won’t do the second coat until the builder revisits. Which brings me to the bad points of the weekend — there’s still a lot to do. The kitchen units arrive soon. Both major rooms need upgrading before Christmas as per our original plan to finish the house by then. We’re cutting the timing close, and it may mean completing the bathroom during the seasonal holidays. If we can get the kitchen finished, though, at least we can have a festive break. I cannot even imagine dragging out and festooning a tree in the present mess.
We do our best to rest, which, unfortunately, proved a low point in time wasted watching a film called Extinction. If I dislike something I tend to say nothing, but on the good and bad theme, Extinction makes a good juxtaposition (it should be ‘extinct’). A cross between The Blair Witch Project meets Jurassic Park, think ‘noises of things unseen’ and rubber non-frightening dinosaurs. One of the funniest scenes (mild spoiler) is when three of the explorers trying the old ‘if we don’t move, it can’t see us’ routine when confronted by a dinosaur and the fake reptile chooses its dinner. While two ran away screaming, we sat sniggering — not the reaction likely intended by the film-makers. I think the only reason we saw it through came from neither of us wishing to admit we’d picked such a flop even at random (three-star rating and the question is how?), coupled with a tiredness that prevented us rousing ourselves to choose something else. I felt sure I would be asleep before the conclusion, but I woke to full alertness when we flicked onto standard television and caught the start of a lovely film entitled Marion.
This is the sweet tale of an aging couple where the wife is told there’s nothing more that can be done for her. One of the joys she clings to is singing with a local amateur choir — something her husband, played by Terence Stamp, is against, preferring she rest. Stamp plays the perfect grouchy spouse, and brings emotion to a performance that I would dare anyone but the hardiest souls not to shed a tear over.
The good part of living in a refurbishment project is seeing progress, a job well done. The bad is having to do the work at all. This is not our first renovation. This is the first we’ve lived in while doing this much labour and the only one where we needed major help. Some of the jobs were beyond us, this time; we had to hire a builder. Good thing we knew of one well-respected.
People keep asking if the house required so much work why we bought it. Almost every house demanded restoration. We even upped the budget and were shocked to find homes seldom in better condition. Sometimes the properties were no bigger so the higher price tag was often confusing. We chose this house because, as with every move, it’s hard to locate a decent garden.
When I say refurbishment, I’m not talking redecoration. The trials of painting and wallpapering hold no fears. We could have finished a simple facelift in a month. Any relocation will likely require more than pretty embellishments. In these economic times, it’s difficult to judge how much someone should spend on their home, but owners will find that neglect may hit them in the resale value of their property; conceivably, this will also affect the price when the survey arrives on the purchaser’s doorstep. Any offer should be ‘subject to survey’ though buyers often ignore points that arise in the report. Even if they try to renegotiate the expenditure, the seller is angry because we all consider our homes to be worth more than they likely are in reality if not maintained. We’ve never sold a home with a serious defect, yet frequently experienced the frustration of a buyer ‘trying it on’, haggling over inconsequentials (in one instance a non-existent never-having-existed shed). Insignificant details aside, ignore real flaws, pocket all profits, and homeowners are going to be in for a shock when claiming on home insurance. Everything is ‘regulation’ now. We know this personally. A friend tried to apply for compensation for a broken window only to be told, “Not Fensa? Sorry, not covered.”
On a more serious note, if a house fire caused by ancient wiring doesn’t bring about a loss of life there’s likely to be a forfeiture of property because if insurance can find a way to back out of paying, they will. What better way than owner responsibility? An ugly truth doesn’t make it less true. So yes, apart from a couple of trifles, we’ve done everything that came up on the surveyor’s investigation…for our own benefit, and also for resale; we want no problems.
This weekend we removed the dirt from almost all of the woodwork (I could swear the last owners hadn’t cleaned this house in twenty years) and the base layer of the stairway is finished. We won’t do the second coat until the builder revisits. Which brings me to the bad points of the weekend — there’s still a lot to do. The kitchen units arrive soon. Both major rooms need upgrading before Christmas as per our original plan to finish the house by then. We’re cutting the timing close, and it may mean completing the bathroom during the seasonal holidays. If we can get the kitchen finished, though, at least we can have a festive break. I cannot even imagine dragging out and festooning a tree in the present mess.
We do our best to rest, which, unfortunately, proved a low point in time wasted watching a film called Extinction. If I dislike something I tend to say nothing, but on the good and bad theme, Extinction makes a good juxtaposition (it should be ‘extinct’). A cross between The Blair Witch Project meets Jurassic Park, think ‘noises of things unseen’ and rubber non-frightening dinosaurs. One of the funniest scenes (mild spoiler) is when three of the explorers trying the old ‘if we don’t move, it can’t see us’ routine when confronted by a dinosaur and the fake reptile chooses its dinner. While two ran away screaming, we sat sniggering — not the reaction likely intended by the film-makers. I think the only reason we saw it through came from neither of us wishing to admit we’d picked such a flop even at random (three-star rating and the question is how?), coupled with a tiredness that prevented us rousing ourselves to choose something else. I felt sure I would be asleep before the conclusion, but I woke to full alertness when we flicked onto standard television and caught the start of a lovely film entitled Marion.
This is the sweet tale of an aging couple where the wife is told there’s nothing more that can be done for her. One of the joys she clings to is singing with a local amateur choir — something her husband, played by Terence Stamp, is against, preferring she rest. Stamp plays the perfect grouchy spouse, and brings emotion to a performance that I would dare anyone but the hardiest souls not to shed a tear over.
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
New Plan
Owing to a recent disaster where my main website disappeared for a month and I feared I would lose all my blogs, not only will I be saving them, I plan to double up here. What I've posted so far (fortunately, I had only began a few weeks ago) will appear in the next few days before going back to weekly posts. Please be patient.
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