Driving Clouds Into Nostalgic Territory

Hello!

I'm back!  Officially this time, rather than the half-hearted and rather manic attempt last time, this blog post is actually about something.  Hooray!  This is partly/completely due to my dissertation being completed, handed in, submitted online, and all piles of paper relating to its creation burnt in a cleansing ritual.  Hooray indeed!  So I feel like I have a bit of my brain back, which is nice.

The range of my intelligence: The Oxford Classical Dictionary
next to A Simple Life, written by a meerkat

In order to finish The Evil That Took Over My Life, I retired to the country, as I thought that's what intelligent people do, at least that's what Oscar Wilde has led me to believe.  This tactic worked pretty well, mainly due to my dad's system of 'no wine until you've written 1,000 words', but it also made me feel particularly 16 again.  This not being an age I would like to be again, it was somewhat unnerving at times.  My bedroom has grown up at least.  Apparently if we ever have visitors they can't be allowed to stay in a purple and white stripy room, even if the turtle and fish were painted onto the wall lovingly by yours truly.  So, at least I didn't wake up in the morning in the exact same room and momentarily panic that I had gone back in time, too terrifying - school, 16 year-old boys, not knowing how to dress myself or apply make up, having no idea where my life is heading...mmm so maybe only school and the age of the boys has changed then.  Anyway, the one thing that hasn't changed much, that I don't mind one bit, is the books.

When I go home, one of the best things is that all the books from my childhood are still there on the shelves, waiting for me, welcoming me back.  I've read them all, and blimey it's a weird collection, but there is something unequivocally comforting about the books you loved as a child.

I Capture The Castle by Dodie Smith, as I may have mentioned before, is my ultimate favourite book, and I love the cover of this addition because the Cassandra on the front looks exactly how I want her to look.

Then we have Pride and Prejudice, because it's a truth universally acknowledged, that sometimes you just need the witticisms and romance of Miss Austen to brighten your day. The Runaways by Elizabeth Goudge is very much a country read; as a child who spent most of her time outside, the freedom of these children who escape to their Uncle Ambrose' magical country house seemed like the perfect adventure to me. It's so nostalgic of summer days, playing in fields and picking blackberries that I notice when reading it that in various parts of my memory, I've confused my childhood with theirs.

Can you spot my book angel?

Fred the Angel, an absolutely amazing book by Martin Waddell. Fred is an angel in training, but gets into so many scrapes that it seems unlikely he'll ever earn his wings. It's such a funny and clever idea for a story, I always loved the idea of driving clouds around heaven.

Finally, Fifteen looks very old school, and that's because it is. It belonged to my mum and she read it when she was 15. Occasionally it feels a bit dated, and sometimes a bit American, but the feelings and dramas of Jane are so relatable that you soon forget about dates and geography. She just wants to be taken seriously, she's embarrassed by her clothes and she really, really wants to meet a boy. I remember reading it for the first time and being thoroughly surprised that girls in the 'olden days' (sorry Mum) felt the exact same things as me. That in itself is a really comforting feeling, that the world can change as much as it likes but the inner concerns of teenage girls are timeless.

I can't help but wonder if my own children will have bedrooms like mine, full of books and memories. I

Here he is!
A playmobile pirate,
complete with giant compass!

think one of the main arguments for books in a time of digital advancement, is that we do get emotionally attached to them. Yes the nostalgia comes from the content, but we rely on the physical books to keep those stories safe. The smells, pictures and texture of the pages, they all stay with us and fill us with comfort. Can an ereader do the same? I think not. I'm all for digital technology, especially for children, I think digital products can promote creativity and imagination in new and exciting ways.

But books are the perfect things for initiating a love affair with reading, and for those great moments when you remember the joy of driving clouds.

Solidifying!

Hi, Howdy, Yo, How're doing?

Wow, so June....I would love to say I've been busy. I'd love to give you a justifiable reason why I've not written anything in two months...I'd love to.

Instead, I'll explain it through metaphor. This Happened.

But just imagine I'm the witch and the water is LIFE, OK? That's basically what happened.

There are three things that are important when you're 24 (in a really superficial-1st world kinda way) and they are:
1) Your job 
2) Your social life
3) Men


Me at 24

1) Can't get a job
2) Can't leave the library due to The Evil Thing (dissertation)
3) Spend my time imagining legitimate ways I will bump into Henry Cavil. I know Henry, it would be magical


So that's why the melting happened.





BUT, I've decided to solidify (hence name of post, amazing link there I think you'll agree...because I melted...yeah?) and start writing again. 

"PHEW" I hear you all silently cry! 
And I can promise that the next few blog posts will be extra silly, extra bookish and extra existent...which I feel is a good step forward. I may even experiment with some fiction, or dabble in some prose, but only if you're very, very good.

Here's a hint at some things I might write about, just to wet those tastebuds, or tease those eyes or whatever it is that happens.

• CHILDREN'S BOOKS AND WHY THEY'RE AWESOME (in no way connected to the fact that I would really, really, really like a job in children's books)

• ME AND WHY I'M AWESOME (joke....or is it? *employ me*)

• ON DISCOVERING FEMINISM AT LATITUDE

• ummmm COWS, HENRY CAVIL, FLOWERS, LEMURS....OTHER THINGS THAT ARE AWESOME

• ON OVER-USING THE WORD AWESOME

Yeah, that should keep us going for a bit. 

I'll write again once I've thought of something funny/interesting/to pass the time.

See you in another two months then.

Book Review: Sky Song by Sharon Sant

I was recently caught staring into the bathroom mirror trying to see if my eyes change colour…they don’t. Two green eyes continued to stare unsympathetically back at me so I’ve concluded I’m nothing like Jacob Lightfoot, though it’s fair to say, not many people are. 

Jacob Lightfoot is the slightly strange protagonist of Sharon Sant’s debut novel Sky Song. This is the first in a trilogy that sees young Jacob discover his true identity and the huge amount of responsibility that comes with being different. 

The story starts in a recognisable manner; it opens with a scenario that evokes thousands of questions, and then relaxes into a setting of the scene that leads to a dramatic but comfortable read. This is not necessarily a criticism, this method is a tried and tested formula for young adult novels that works well, and is not to say that the plot is predictable. From poor Jacob’s rude awakening one morning by a creepy individual in his bedroom telling him that he, Jacob, does not exist, the plot hurtles around corners and loops the loops at alarming speed. It is brilliantly surprising with every chapter and Sant manages to include many themes without the plot feeling cluttered. Jacob, in essence, is a normal teenage boy; he finds it difficult to fit in, he loves his best friends, bickers with his parents and has girl problems. He also, however, has eyes that change colour, a photographic memory and a feeling that something inside him is waking up. 

One of my favourite things about this story is Sant’s characterisation. Unlike many young adult novels where the main characters seem much wiser and articulate that normal teenagers, Sant’s characters feel very real. I can easily hear their interactions and especially like how the intimacy and affection between Jacob and his friends and with his parents is always apparent without having to be spelled out. Sant obviously has skill at portraying her characters so it is somewhat disappointing that this talent doesn’t stretch to all areas of the book. I never really felt like I knew Dae at all. I would have loved more interaction between him and Jacob so that when (SPOILER ALERT) Dae dies I feel some of that harrowing sadness that envelopes Jacob when he finds out. But I didn’t pity Dae at all and it’s such a pivotal moment for Jacob that I knew I must be missing something. I think the problem I had is that a lot has to be explained to the reader; who Makash is for example, and why he is angry. The revelations about Dae have to be awkwardly communicated, which is why I think they lose their significance, and I don’t feel the reader ever quite understands who the watcher is or why this is such an important position. This may sound ridiculous but I didn’t really realise that Astrae was another physical planet until the very end, I thought it was a sort of state of mind, which obviously makes it quite different! 

It would have been great if Sant could have developed these issues further so that readers can figure out more by themselves. I, personally, would have appreciated more description and detail about Jacob’s time on/in Astrae and truly what is expected of him so I could fully understand the weight of his decision. We heard so much about Jacob hearing and feeling his home inside his head but I felt that we didn’t get to hear or feel it ourselves. 

Sky Song is the first in a trilogy so I am hopeful that many of my questions will be answered in the second and third books, which I would still very much like to read.  Sant is a talented writer and there are obviously so many excellent and creative ideas inside her head, I would just more of them on paper.

@SharonSant 

http://sharonsant.com/

Speed Dating for the Literary Minded

I’m afraid my absence from the digital page has no exciting or dramatic cause. I have not been forcibly kept away from my laptop by tornadoes, floods or any other natural disaster that put saving the world at higher priority than blogging. The misfortune that inflicted this separation upon me was the horror of deadlines, a horror – I hope you will agree – that would send even the most brave and dedicated of bloggers into a mad, referencing-induced frenzy. 

However, I also went speed dating, which happily brings us back to the silliness that is the inside of my brain.  I didn’t go speed dating with the hope of meeting ‘my one and only’ (I don’t believe Ben Barnes or Benedict Cumberbatch would ever go speed dating in Balham), but I did go with the hope of an interesting evening chatting to interesting people…which sort of happened. It was certainly interesting and I certainly did not meet my one and only. I did, however, end up talking to some rather strange people about rather strange things. Mainly because towards the end of the evening the wine had been flowing and, getting bored of asking, “where are you from?” and “what do you do?” I resorted to “what animal would you be and why?” and “Dragons! Tell me about them!” 

One thing this evening did offer me, apart from a hangover and phone calls I have to avoid answering, is the fascinating jewel of procrastination that is 'which literary characters would I like to speed date with?' 

My first thought, naturally, was Dumbledore! But just four minutes with Dumbledore? No, I would need a lot longer than that with him, think of the questions I could ask! Like, why is he suddenly naked in Potter Puppet Pals: The Mysterious Ticking Noise? Then I thought of some more, Jon Snow, Prince Caspian, Achilles… and realised I was only thinking of actors I fancy and that’s not the point. 

Perhaps other Game of Thrones characters? Maybe Ned Stark? But I think we all know what he'd say. 

Or the formidable line “we’ll talk when I’m back.” Words, we’ve noticed, that ultimately result in the death of whichever character has the misfortune to utter them.  

So I’m looking for people who would be interesting to meet, but only for about four minutes and then you want them to leave…tricky. 

1. My first choice is Pi Patel from Life of Pie. I don’t need him to tell me his story; I’ve read and seen it. But, I would enjoy starting off the evening with a large glass of red wine while he looks at me with his rather amused expression and explains religion to me in a way that I genuinely appreciate. I think after four minutes I might become internally confused about my spiritual leanings, so four minutes would be just the right amount of time for me to engage with Pi peacefully. Then, when the timer goes I would feel happy enough to say goodbye and watch him walk serenely to the next person with a feeling of ‘yes, I’ve learned something here’. (But no Richard Parker. I love tigers but being mauled to death on the first date would not be a good start.)

2. My second date would be with Cassandra Mortmain from I Capture the Castle. There’s no particular reason I would like to meet her other than I think we would get on well and that four minutes would be enough time to form a life-long friendship. Then she could invite me back to the castle; I’ve always wanted to live in a castle.

3. Mr & Mrs Beaver from The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe. This might sound silly but when else are you going to get to talk to animals that can actually talk back? Not an opportunity to be passed up, I think. 

4. I think my fourth choice might actually be my favourite. Skulduggery Pleasant, from his own series by Derek Landy. Not only would I get to have a date with a real, smartly dressed and ever-so-polite skeleton detective, but I also find him incredibly funny. Only four minutes with Mr Pleasant would be a shame but I imagine that sit there any longer and he would have to dash off to do some world-saving of one kind or another and I’d prefer it if he didn’t bring any vampires or monsters into this already quite strange concoction of characters. 

5. Finally, to end my rather short but fun-filled evening on a high, I’ve decided on Mr Knightly from Jane Austen’s Emma. I would have chosen P & P’s Mr Darcy, only I don’t think he’d approve of me and it would probably just be really awkward. Mr Knightly, however, is much more cheerful and gentlemanly. He’s also extremely handsome, at least in my head, and I haven’t done any swooning yet. I am supposed to be dating these characters after all so perhaps if I leave Mr Knightly for my last date, my evening could end in a much more satisfactory date-like manner. 

Despite the lack of love at my first speed-dating event, I’m trying it again in a different location, with hopefully different men, at the end of the month. You never know, perhaps with a repeat attempt I might stumble across one of the Bens, or at least a talking beaver. 

Ancient Greatness

“Sing, goddess, of the anger of Achilleus, son of Peleus, the accursed anger which brought uncounted anguish on the Achaians and hurled down to Hades many mighty souls of heroes, making their bodies prey to dogs and the birds’ feasting: and this was the working of Zeus’ will. Sing from the time of the first quarrel which divided Atreus’ son, the lord of men, and godlike Achilleus.”

What an opening. This is the first paragraph of book 1 of Homer’s The Iliad, and has got to

be one of the best opening paragraphs of any book ever. The air quivers as Homer invokes the Muse to help him in his storytelling and already we feel the presence of divine spirits. We meet Achilleus, godlike Achilleus, my favourite hero who was responsible for the Greeks’ ruin and their salvation. We are told of the horror of war, of birds and dogs feasting on the unburied bodies of the brutally killed and the gods watching unmoved from Olympus above. Finally, we hear of Atreus’ son, Agamemnon, the ultimate bully that you love to hate. 

There is simply everything in this story, all human emotions and behavior are laid bare and ripped apart…and it is fantastic. 

I love this stuff, always have. Ever since I was little and had a picture book with the epic myths of Ancient Greece and Rome laid out in primary colours, I have loved them. The warriors and heroes, the crazy, vicious women and the magical metamorphoses; it’s all here, it’s all a bit mental and it’s all brilliant. I then went to university to study Classical Civilisation and my enthusiasm for the ancient, Achilleus in particular, grew and grew. 

I finally did my dissertation on ‘Achilleus in the 21^st Century’ which allowed me to follow him from his creation in our mythical past, through the ages of plays, oratory and vases finally to Troy, the 2004 film with Eric Banner as heavenly Hector and Brad Pitt as godlike Achilleus.

The reason my affection for swift-footed Achilleus has rekindled recently is because of one fabulous book. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller tells the hero’s story through the eyes of his lover Patroclus. Troy had young Pat being Achilleus’ cousin, but most ancient sources, including Plato’s Symposium, acknowledge their relationship was much more romantic. Miller certainly takes this view and the focus of the book is much more on their relationship and how it affected the glory that Achilleus so ardently sought, rather than concentrating on the glory itself. She includes several myths surrounding Achilleus, and some about Patroclus, that I had never heard before which made it just as interesting a read as it was compelling. For those with the critical eye, I believe you will find this book a great combination of classical knowledge with wonderful story telling, and no blockbuster alterations.

What makes Miller’s book particularly special for me, however, is her incredible ability to capture the personalities of the famous Ancient Greeks. Never before have I felt that I am seeing so much of Achilleus’ character. Not just his unparalleled skill on the battlefield, not just his determination and desperate need for unforgettable fame, but also how he felt about those close to him. His relationship with his father and goddess-mother help explain his motivations and decisions but his relationship with Patroclus and the love he has for him allows you to know what made Achilleus smile, what he cared about and how he showed affection. Whilst I knew what was going to happen at the end, Miller’s writing kept me enthralled until the very last line and has awoken a passion for the heroes of the ancient world that I had forgotten. I only wish this book had been written when I was writing my dissertation. 

I definitely recommend you read this book, but I also recommend you have a go at The Iliad. I warn you, it is not easy going and you can easily miss out some parts such as the Catalogue of Ships. But, the story is still amazing and I think you will appreciate The Song of Achilles more if you have read his story in Homer’s words. 

If you manage that, there is also The Odyssey by Homer and The Aeneid by Virgil. Both involve a lot of piercing men through the nipple with spears and long-drawn-out heroic dressing scenes, but, if you like your fantasy stories full of monsters, gods, witches and heroes then you have to read the originals. Besides, it wasn’t fantasy back then, it was real. 

In the 21^st century, I’d like to recommend some other books of sort of the same ilk. 

Pompeii by Robert Harris tells of the tragic eruption of Vesuvius through the eyes of those that were there. Another great insight into the personalities behind the history.

Lindsey Davis’ series of books set in ancient Rome has Falco, a sort of Roman detective, solving the mysteries that troubled the great city.

Finally, one of my favourites, Gods Behaving Badly by Marie Phillips. The ancient gods are back…and living in north London. Things haven’t gone well for them over the centuries but they’re about to get a whole lot worse. Very funny, utterly charming and great for Classics nerds. 

I leave you with one of the best Homer quotes, which I have always wanted to say in a boring meeting but never quite had the nerve.

“There is a time for many words, and there is also a time for sleep”

Egg-cellent Family Easter Reading

Easter Sunday: a holiday to celebrate Jesus dying for our sins and then rising from the dead in a most surprising and cheerful manner and every one being very happy about it...He then picked up a rabbit from the garden and said "You are now the Easter Bunny. You will deliver chocolate eggs to all those who have given it up to mark my time in the desert, the eggs should be decorated with baby things like lambs and ducklings as they're cute and show the joy of spring time!"  

Or....Christianity got muddled with a pagan Springtime ritual of some sort, but I much prefer my slightly blasphemous version, apologies if you don't.    

Most people associate Easter with Jesus, chocolate and a very-much-needed bank holiday, but not necessarily a family holiday. However, when my flatmate and I were discussing how we were both spending Easter with our families, she commented that "It's like Christmas, but without the pressure." Which is so true! No worries about presents or everyone getting along, just lots of food and sitting around together in a if-you-feel-like-it sort of way, it's even sunny...some years.  

Apparently it's a German thing...we like it

In my parents' house there is a definite feeling of confusion that it isn't Christmas. It's cold outside, my dad is having constant battles with the fire, we're drinking a competitive amount of wine and reading in silence a lot, we even have a tree (see photo). 

We tend to do a lot of reading here, speaking is done during meal times but otherwise it's a pleasant quiet of page turning and the low rumble of the fire. Often a conversation will take along time if we do try to have one because someone will either say something while walking out a room, or forget the rest of us weren't privy to the earlier bit of the thought process that had happened inside their head, or we're all so engrossed in what we're reading that we only give half answers and any external person would think we sound like monosyllabic maniacs. 

 So it's better to keep quiet. Like Ents, if we're going to talk then it's better not to waste words.  

After giving you that bizarre insight into the strange little microcosm that is the Prysor-Jones household, I thought I would give you a bit more and tell you what we're all reading.

I am currently curled up in the corner of the comfy sofa and have just finished reading Skulduggery Pleasant, Playing with Fire, the second in Derek Landy's wonderful series about a skeleton detective. It actually makes me laugh out loud, much to the annoyance of some family members who think I'm too old to get this much pleasure out of children's books. I said it's because I want to work in children's book publishing that I have to read this sort of thing, but actually it's because it's brilliant. 

To broaden my mind, however, I am now reading Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys. It tells the story of Antoinette, the daughter of a white slave-trader on a Jamaican island. In the first part we see her traumatic childhood seen through her eyes with her strange and dramatic family, then in the second part, the part I have just started, a new voice begins to narrate. This voice belongs to a rather famous Mr Rochester? I do hope you have heard of him? He has married this young, beautiful and exotic woman but in the hazy heat and tension of the island he starts to doubt that everything is what it seems. Knowing the next bit of the story from Jane Eyre's perspective, I am looking forward to seeing how it felt for the person hidden away. This copy was my mum's when she was at school, it was published in 1968 and cost five shillings. I'm enjoying it so far, especially how the jarring and muddled way the writing is fashioned encourages the reader imagine the stifling environment and to feel the trauma, passion, fear and, dare I say, madness of the characters. 

My dad has just informed me, in an overly casual fashion I felt, that's he has been 


reading The Lord of the Rings in Italian. I suppose if you're learning a language then reading a book you know really well is a good idea...but Lord of the Rings? How often is he going to need to know how to say 'Orc' in Italian? He is now researching lamb recipes, this I am actively encouraging, especially after he said something about butter, garlic and rosemary. Yum.  

I just sneaked a look at my sister's Kindle to see what she's reading and it's in Spanish...I am feeling irritably inferior. I also don't feel this is a fair representation of her usual reading habits. Honor reads more than anyone else I know, and reads everything, if we ignore her slight disregard for hilarious skeleton-detective books. Apparently her book is like The Three Musketeers but Spanish, at least, someone is a captain and they keep getting into fights in taverns. But, it's annoying her because she thinks she would really enjoy it in English.

Previously, she read Love in Idleness by Amanda Craig, which apparently is A Midsummer Night's Dream in modern day Tuscany. It sounds fabulous to me, A Midsummer Nights Dream being my favourite Shakespeare play and Tuscany is one of my favourite places. Honor says she really liked it, especially the characters and the relationships between them. Apparently it took her a while to figure out the Shakespeare element and it was only when people started making potions that the penny dropped. But a fun and easy read and I would like to borrow it from her, apart from she read it on her Kindle - biggest downfall of technology in my view. 
















 My mum reads a lot too, she's a member of a book club so ends up reading many strange things not of her choosing. This one, Tigers in Red Weather by Liza Klaussmann, is one she is thinking of suggesting. The book is about a woman in New England who is bored of her life and marriage, but the story, genre and everything you are expect completely changes when there is a gristly discovery behind a tennis court years later. The title of the book comes from a poem called Disillusionment at 10 O'Clock by Wallace Stevens. A poem that draws upon the dreariness of a life that has no colour, no imagination, the exact sort of disappointing life the main character Nick, finds herself in. Mum thought it was intriguing and a page turner, but not one for the book group as she couldn't face reading it again. 

Maybe your family is not the sort who can spend hours comfortably in the same room but in different worlds. Maybe reading is not a central point that conversations pivot from. But, if you're a reader and someone else in your family is a reader than you can safely bet that they will also enjoy talking about whatever they're reading. Take an interest, ask them about it, even if it's your five year-old nephew's story about a duck with a spade or your overly loud aunt's sickening romance novel "Love in a Time of Avian Flu". Talking about books can be almost as fun as reading them. It is also something that can be done together as a family, which after all, is what Jesus and the Easter Bunny would have wanted. 

A Snowy Silver Lining

 So first I must apologise for my absence over the last few weeks. I've been on placement with the fabulous HarperCollins in the children's editorial and publicity departments and trying to be a real person has taken away most of my brain power. However, I finish next week, which will be horribly sad, in fact, why are you making me think about that? How mean!

Moving swiftly on, I'm currently sitting in my pajamas on the sofa, watching Saturday Kitchen Live, and trying not to look out the window. I can't believe it's snowing...in March. Anyone remember March 2012? There was sun, lots of sun. But, ever the optimist, I thought I would search out that silver lining for you all. Not surprisingly, my silver lining involves books. 

The Perfect Books for a Snowy Day

Harry Potter - All of them, because they are all perfect for all occasions.

The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey: not only does it look like a beautiful book but the story is just as enchanting. 

Jack and Mable, in their cold homestead in deepest Alaska, don't have any children, something that is a constant ache on Mable's heart. One evening, in a rare and playful mood, they make a child out of snow and decorate her with a scarf and gloves. The next day, the snow child is ruined but there are mysterious footprints leading away from the pile of discarded snow and the clothes are missing. When a beautiful little girl appears in the Alaskan forest, dressed in the same scarf and gloves as their snow child, Jack and Mable cannot help but fall in love with her, but it cannot be winter forever and Mable cannot forget those footprints in the snow. So begins a magical and charming story full of love, mystery and beautiful landscapes. Perfect for curling up on the sofa and pretending the wind howling outside is a wolf cry from the snowy mountains. 

The Lion, Witch and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis: An oldie but a goody and certainly a book I never get bored of. Need I tell you the story? If I do then you don’t deserve to be reading this blog and I demand you go out and read the story immediately. I think this book is great for a snowy, miserable day because the adventures of the Pevensey children start on that very sort of day. If it had been sunny and delightful they never would have resorted to hide and seek and Lucy would never have hidden in the wardrobe, fallen through the back and ended up in a snow-covered, talking-animal inhabited and wonderful land known as Narnia. I recommend you read this and then go and try and get in your wardrobe, I can almost guarantee that you will get to Narnia too, as long as you stay in there long enough. 

For those of you who like denial when it’s miserable outside, I am suggesting The Island by Victoria Hislop. OK, so maybe the leper element is not, ultimately, happy, but it is set in sunny and gorgeous Crete. It is also a brilliant story full of secrecy, love and tragedy that I can promise you will be completely sucked into. Alexis has never known much about her mother’s past, but on a life-changing mission, travels to the little Cretan village of Plaka, which holds the answers to the secrets of her mother’s life. It is heartwarming, sob-worthy and has a blissfully beautiful, albeit tragic, setting. Hopefully you will be so swept away that if you keep your back to the window you won’t even notice the misery outside. 

I could go on, but surely this horrible weather will have gone by the time you’ve read all three books right? RIGHT?

Why The Long Face?

And now IKEA. I’m so upset about the meatballs, apart from pretending you live there and enjoying the immense risk and danger of going off the path, those meatballs were the best things about IKEA. Now we find out that the secret to their deliciousness may have been in the beef…the secret being that is wasn’t all beef, some of it was horse.

This news story has rather rocked our country in the recent weeks. Naturally, there is outrage that this has so easily happened and we, the consumer, have been eating something without being made aware of it. As many articles have pointed out, this is more an issue of fraud than of food safety. It also begs the questions of why beef is being substituted for horse; according to Q & A Horsemeat Scandal, it’s because horsemeat is cheaper than beef so the substitution is an easy way of making the meat go further.

As well as outrage coming from the fraud aspect of the scandal, there is also something about eating horse that feels essentially ‘wrong’ to many Britains. Eating horse in Britain became taboo gradually, we were certainly munching away on geegees at the end of the last ice age, so what changed? It’s likely to be around the same time horses became domesticated that peoples’ attitude towards them began to change and there is evidence of this happening as early as 4000 BC.



However, as with many of the big changes in Britain, the main influence seems to have come from the Church. At some point, possibly as far back as 732 AD, the Vatican announced that eating horse was a pagan activity and not acceptable behaviour among well-to-do Catholics. This decision was fairly widely rebuked by most European countries who continued nibbling their neighing Nellys well into the nineteenth century, but it does seem to have had quite an impact on English-speaking countries. Perhaps this religious influence, paired with the psychological impact of our relationship with horses, is what has made eating horse just not the done thing.



 Drawing on the psychological aspects, and desperately clawing my way back to a publishing and book related topic, I thought I’d look at horses in literature that encourage our sentimental attachment to the animal.



One of my favourites is Angharrad from the Chaos Walking trilogy by Patrick Ness. Angharrad is a gentle soul who is one of the only characters to understand Todd, Ness’ troubled protagonist.

Good old Boxer in George Orwell’s Animal Farm. Poor, dimwitted Boxer is a stoical chap who believes in hard work and a good regime. He never doubts the words of those in command, unfortunately, it is this that leads to his downfall.





Fledge the winged wonder. Formally known as Strawberry, he worked in London pulling handsome cabs, but in true C.S Lewis style, he is magically transported to Narnia and given wings by Aslan.

Shadowfax, the chief of the Mearas. One of those names I can’t say in a normal voice (have to either sound like Aslan or Mufassa saying "Simba!"). He’s fearless, fast and fighsty; only Gandalf is permitted to ride him and that's only if Shadowfax allows. It is due to his epicness that we get the line “Run, Shadowfax, show us the meaning of haste.”



A horse that has made me cry more than any other is the kind, gentle and brilliantly brave Joey, a war horse like no other. Told from Joey’s point of view, War Horse by Michael Morpurgo lets you to really get to know and feel for this incredible character.



Last but not least, probably the most famous horse in British literature, Anna Sewell’s Black Beauty. I definitely cried a lot at this book too. Kindness, sympathy and respect are big themes in this story and similarly to Joey in War Horse, Black Beauty tells his own story. Through his life we see the full range of treatment horses can expect at the hands of humans. If any horse can teach us what the relationship between man and beast can mean, it’s Black Beauty.