QUEEN'S PAWN by VICTOR CANNING

QUEEN'S PAWN

BY VICTOR CANNING

THE BLURB:-

There was none! No, that's not the blurb, there was no blurb on this hardback. I suppose it must have been on the now non-existent flyleaf...

THE REALITY:-

I found this book in a Wetherspoon pub, as part of their bookshelf décor. Previously, I filched a copy of What Katy Did, by Susan Coolidge, as it was one of my favourites as a child and I wanted to recap. I'd read the whole series, including What Katy Did At School (my favourite of the trio) and What Katy Did Next. So when I was drawn to this scabby-looking novel I had a flick through and immediately thought it was some kind of spy thriller. I like the fact that it's written by a man as I tend to read more books by female authors and it's good to get a male perspective on situations. The novel had that lovely, musty, old library smell about it and this I found pleasantly reassuring- ebooks have a lot to offer but, at the end of the day, you can't beat a fusty old novel! Written in 1969, before I was born, it was great to be able to get a jist of recent history, written on thick paper and with a small font (the way things should traditionally be? Possibly.)

It wasn't a spy thriller- this was a crime thriller, and master stealth fraudster Andrew Raikes is the kind of man who makes you question your own integrity. I am not a people person and indeed, some of the characters in my novel, The Reject's Club, are inspired by individuals I thought very little of, with all of their many faults exacerbated to the hilt. Does my contempt for my fellow human being match his? Well, no. Firstly, my dislike is selective, not universal and secondly, even Raikes has a conscience; as his control over his life starts to unravel and he finds himself having to commit a heist on board (spoiler alert!) the QE2, a beautiful ship governed by a captain he has the utmost respect for. It goes against his grain and does not make him a very happy man.  Interestingly, I read this part only a day after visiting HMS Belfast, my first experience on a real ship (albeit a war ship as opposed to a pleasure craft!) and I suppose it helped with relating to the set-up of this grand climax.    

This book was a superb read from start to finish with some very interesting characters and twists and turns. Despite being set nearly fifty years ago, mainly in London and Devon, it was easy to relate to. The person I felt for the most was Belle, someone who Raikes describes as, “An unfamilied slut, fumbled with by her own stepfather.” When a woman is not the first thought in her mother's affections, she often carries that lack of familial love with her and has to do what she has to do to get by. Belle makes the best of it and just gets on with it in a probably not highly recommendable way, but she is flawed- as we all are- and a bit of a victim.

With a run up to the ending that keeps you wanting to race to the end, this book comes to the only conclusion it possibly could, (spoiler alert again!) with none of the villains getting away with their misdeeds. I'm not sure that the morals of the time when which this book was written would allow for the crooks of the piece to come out jubilant. I will certainly keep my eyes peeled for future Victor Canning novels when I'm trawling through charity shops for good reads.

SPEAKING IN BONES by KATHY REICHS

SPEAKING IN BONES

BY KATHY REICHS

THE BLURB:-

Please don't kill me.

Please don't kill me.

Please. Kill me.

An amateur detective convinced she has identified remains in Dr. Temperance Brennan's lab.

A tape recording of a woman tortured by a monster.

A case more complicated and horrifying than Tempe could ever imagine.

THE REALITY:-

Another corker from the pen of Kathy Reichs- her Tempe Brennan novels never fail to deliver (although, of course, I find some a better read than others.)

Reichs deals with with the subject of multiple personality disorder, so we end up with- spoiler alert!- a victim who's also a perpetrator. What a clever concept. If this is really based on Reichs' actual work as a forensic anthropologist (which I'm sure it is) then she has one hell of an interesting career.

From the opening sequence of horror through to the end conclusion, which is nerve wracking, original and terrifying, I put down another novel to read this book and managed to finish it in ten days. Wahoo! I'm back into my reading again, after a bit of a hiatus at the end of last year. I'm also planning on getting back into my writing again, via the medium of short stories, but enough of that for the time being.

Set in Charlotte, North Carolina, it's informative and interesting to learn about the geography of the area, as you do through Tempe's mountainous hunt for skeletal remains and also the people and customs, as you do through her characters. I particularly liked the religious nuts represented in this novel and it challenges the concept of extreme religion and whether it is actually evil in its judgement of others. I think so. I've met people from the side-shoots of Christianity in my life and have found them VERY unforgiving and (in my agnostic opinion) appallingly unchristian.  I was glad when one such aforementioned individual ended up with a cross stabbed into his neck (I'm talking with regard to the book...  Those who've crossed me in my own life simply end up in a novel...)

Andrew Ryan featured in this novel and, although he and Tempe weren't working together (I love their chemistry and banter when they do) it was good that Tempe decided to take their relationship to the next level and agreed to their moving in together. I do understand her angst and reticence- he did, after all, leave her twice and I'm glad she jumped into bed with someone else the first time he treated her like shit. Go, girl- don't be a-takin' no crap! This was a fast paced page-turner and a superb novel to read and I'm looking forward to the next Tempe Brennan thriller.

MISS ELAINEOUS VISITS HIGHGATE CEMETERY...

I used to live in north London when I was a student, above an Irish pub somewhere between King's Cross, Caledonian Road and Camden Road stations, so I had another of those, "Why the hell couldn't I have done this when I lived here?" moments!

At the time, my student job was as a betting shop cashier and I worked in many north London stores, including around Holloway Road and Archway, so getting off at Archway Tube station was a bit of a nostalgia trip for me.  The local Ladbrokes I've worked at was further from the station than I remember and I was saddened to see the Archway Tavern closed, although it did look like it was being renovated.  I used to meet my then-boyfriend in this pub for a drink, then we would nip to the Paris London Cafe on Junction Road for a bite to eat.  They sold both snails and frog legs.  I refused to eat either of those things and even my ex (who has been known to kill and cook his dinner, in the wilds of Africa) refused the latter.  It was a cute place- very small and intimate with no alcohol licence and a corkage fee.  But the last time we went they'd got their licence, expanded and disappeared up their own arses, so we didn't go again.  The cafe's not there now- apparently it's moved.  

Enough of the reminiscing!  I've always wanted to visit Highgate cemetery as I'm a bit gothic, a touch macabre and a lover of history, art and beauty.  The cemetery featured in the 2009 film Dorian Gray, which was on TV towards the end of last year, so I did my research and promised myself a day out here.  John Betjeman described it as a "Victorian Valhalla" and I would describe it as a stunningly evocative necropolis.  The walk up Highgate Hill was a real fifteen to twenty minute killer for the legs- why people bother going to the gym is beyond me- the world is one big gym!  The gradient is recorded as being between 5.1% and 7.6% and I pushed on (or rather up!) and got on with it, passed through the rather pleasant Waterlow Park and arrived at the cemetery gates... thankfully, alive! 

Here's what I saw in the East Cemetery...

The grave of Mary Ann Cross (nee Evans) better known as George Eliot.  As a writer, I had to get a picture of this.

Karl Marx:- His ideas formed the basis of modern communism.

I love this stark, self-designed piece by modern artist Patrick Caulfield.

Watch out, Beadle's about!  Considering Jeremy Beadle died in 2008, his tombstone looks remarkably faded.  You had to really stare to make out his name.

Malcolm McLaren:- He wrote his own epitaph, "Better a spectacular failure, than a benign success."

I just love these gorgeous love-hearts!

The West Cemetery...

Nature overtakes the cemetery as snowdrops grow on someone's grave.

Beautiful evocative grave showing a stone seat.  "Death is an empty seat."  This is a quote spoken by the character Elizabeth, in my first novel, entitled "The Reject's Club."  The same character also visits Highgate Cemetery with her father.  When I wrote it I hadn't even been to the cemetery! 

The Egyptian Avenue.

The Circle Of Lebanon.

Tomb of George Wombwell, travelling menagerie owner.

The tomb of bare-knuckle fighter Tom Sayers, featuring his faithful dog, Lion.

Nature always wins- tree roots reclaiming their space.

This sleeping angel sculpture is really evocative.

I know it's really naughty of me, but the monument to the left of the photo reminded me of a turd.  I don't know who it's a memorial to as I was on a guided tour and couldn't just wander off, but apologies for any offence!

MISS ELAINEOUS GETS TAKEN UP THE SHARD...

Ooh-eer Missus!

.... No, not as painful as you might think- my partner and I had a lovely day out in central London, so before going for dinner then the theatre he took me up the tallest building in the United Kingdom.  The indoor viewing deck is 69 floors high, with a semi-exposed deck (the ceiling is open but not the windows, so jumping cannot take place!) is on floor 72.

This is not the highest building I've been up- I was lucky enough to ride 110 floors skywards, in the express elevator, to the top of the south tower of the World Trade Center.  This was in 2000, only sixteen months before it was destroyed.  😢  I must make a point of going back to New York, then I can stand at the window of the viewing deck of its "replacement," One World Trade Center.

This isn't the highest place I've stood on either.  I've been up the Rocky Mountains, in Denver, Colorado and stood on top of glorious Table Mountain in Cape Town. 

It was a blustery, overcast day by the Thames (hurricane Doris was on her way) but I still managed to get some good pictures.

Tower Bridge, with the Docklands in the background.

20 Fenchurch Street, also know as the Walkie-Talkie.  They apparently have a magnificent Sky Garden and it's free to visit, so I will be doing that soon.

City of London, including the Walkie-Talkie and the The Leadenhall Building aka. The Cheesegrater (apparently you can't visit the latter.)

St. Paul's Cathedral, looking really miniscule below a moody sky!

 Southside, including the Strata building.

Train gyratory.  

Southwark Bridge, approaching sundown- back on terra firma!

Dusk panorama.

London twinkling as another day ends...

I wouldn't rush back to the Shard but I thoroughly enjoyed the experience.

THE PLAY THAT GOES WRONG...

I don't tend to go for comedies- I'm a serious kind of gal... make me emotional, make me cry but overall, MOVE me! When I'm in a laughing mood, my sense of humour tends to be very much equal to the British postcard- give me a Carry On film and I'm in heaven.

This was slapstick, but it was extremely well executed slapstick. The storyline centres around a bunch of amateur actors putting on a play which can be described by the saying, 'Everything that can go wrong, will go wrong...' And it does- spectacularly!

It's one thing to act well, but an entirely different discipline to play a bad actor- a bit like Les Dawson performing his very clever awful piano routines- but this cast pull it off with aplomb. The standard of writing was superb and the comic timing impeccable. The props and stunts were well executed and this play made me laugh from start to finish.

There was audience participation, with a hilarious reference to the pantomime, but my favourite parts were always when the butler- who had to write the more complicated words of his script on his hand- mispronounced them.

This will make tears of gaiety roll from your eyes, so expect your sides to split!  

MISS ELAINEOUS VISITS FREDDIE MERCURY'S HOUSE...

I ended my day of nosy-parkering with a visit to 1 Logan Place, which was the final home of the late, great, showman-supreme, Freddie Mercury.  Again, why I couldn't have done this when I lived just a short way away, in Hammersmith, is beyond me!

The street is really peaceful, with the gentle sound of twittering birds in the background (corny but true!)  You wouldn't believe that you are only a short way from Cromwell Road, one of the busiest roads in west London.  I wasn't the only person taking pictures, so I didn't feel too alone.

Some of the tributes on the wall are lovely...

But the most touching thing of all were these beautiful yellow roses.  Sometimes a gesture speaks a thousand words.  R.I.P. Freddie. xxxx

MISS ELAINEOUS VISITS PORTOBELLO ROAD...

I haven't been to Portobello Road for over ten years, which is a shame as it's my kind of shopping- flea markets and individual boutiques where you can source lots of exciting one-offs and vintage finds.  I don't like chain stores at all- I find them boring and predictable most of the time.  I did enjoy working as a designer for them, though.  I genuinely believed I could make a difference and I did.  It's a shame they follow trends so slavishly- I'm sure that thinking outside the box would generate more interest and therefore customers.

It was a short walk from the scene of 10 Rillington Place to Portobello Road, so I continued my day with a browse and a lovely black forest pie, complete with oozing cherries.  I'm glad I stumbled across this little shop, called Pylones.

It sells offbeat, colourful homewares and curios and I will certainly check them out again.  Trouble was, I was dying to go to the khazi and had to browse quickly as I needed to find a loo.  I did, but the lack of public facilities everywhere has always pissed(!) me off (there was one set of free underground toilets for the whole road!)  People have to go to the toilet, you know, and it is not something that's ever mentioned, even though discussions abound on far more unsavoury topics.  Using a pub toilet is not an option as you then feel obliged to buy a drink so then, very soon, you need to go to the loo again etc.  Councils, sort it out!  Also, the two cash machines that I tried charged for withdrawals, so I didn't take money out.  As much of the market is a cash business, this can only result in decreased sales.  Again, take note.

Rant over, here's a picture of Pylones' wares.

I took a look at a few vintage stores and stalls.  In the past twenty years, though, vintage clothing has become BIG business so now proprietors can charge ridiculous amounts for what is sometimes 'tat'.  I saw scabby, no-name sparkly shoes priced up at £20- they were worth more like £3.  And Gina shoes going for £80.  Take a fucking hike.  It's second hand, at the end of the day.  I know that everybody has to make a profit (and I notice that the stalls charge less than the shops) but maybe it's better to look at charity shops in good areas, or ebay, as you can find some real, affordable gems there.  Vintage stores have become too clued up!

Portobello Road has changed, it's true- it has become tidier and a bit more commercial- but it hasn't lost its charm.  I shall be returning!