I don’t like heat much, but I managed to spend most of my London time in air-conditioned places. Sometimes air-conditioned buildings, sometimes parks.
And sometimes I had to air-condition myself, via the media of flip-flops
and ice-cream.
Not to boast*, but I liked pistachio long before pistachio became a thing. Which means I am first in the queue for Pistachio Things. (Possibly not jewellery, because after I hankered for fig jewellery on here, Emma kindly sent me links to fig jewellery, most of which was somewhat…scrotal in appearance. Nope, I’m not linking, you don’t need to see.) And there are many. Not pictured: pistachio croissant, pistachio chocolate bar, pistachios on salad. ALL THE YUMS.
Also, should I ever need my violin re-somethinged (unlikely, as I don’t have a violin or an ounce of musical talent, but you never know), it’s good to know there’s a place to go.
A real highlight of my trip was seeing this** at the theatre:
The show is based on the Studio Ghibli film My Neighbour Totoro (here’s a Guardian review of its cinema re-release), and it was that best of adaptations: faithful, and yet also, somehow, its own perfect thing. Here’s the trailer:
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Props to the grandmother next to me who, during the interval, was asked by her grandchild, ‘Is the little girl really four years old?’ She went with, ‘She’s actually a small grown-up acting like a four-year-old’, and then brilliantly wrangled the unexpected follow-up question ‘Out of all the small grown ups in the world how was she chosen to be the four-year-old in the theatre?’
And yes, Totoro fans, they did do the Catbus, and it was everything.
Updates for writers:
There’s one space left on this Thursday evening’s Zoom workshop on character - let me know if you’re interested.
September and October edit/manuscript assessment slots are available - look here for details and prices, and then email me (or reply to this email) if you’d like to reserve a space or have a chat. Some bursaries, and payment plans, are available.
I can take on one new mentee - details here, and/or hit reply….
And I have a couple of slots for one-off mentoring sessions.
When I arrived in London I had a Very Nice Lunch with my editor and agent, and even better than the Caesar salad***
was a really helpful and constructive discussion about the new book. (Title and cover to come.) I’m about to dive into edits and I honestly cannot wait. You know you have a good editor when you come away from editorial notes in a fizz of excitement at the possibilities for the next draft.
(I have also worked with editors whose notes have made me wish I had grown up with no understanding of the concept of the written word. But to be fair, these were not bad editors, just not a good match for my work.)
And on the subject of the written word - boy, have I had a good reading jag lately!
I loved Alex Hay’s debut, ‘The Housekeepers’, so much that I was actually a bit scared to read ‘The Queen Of Fives’, his second book. I had no need to worry. This absorbing, clever and unexpectedly touching novel is perfection. The heroine, Quinn Le Blanc, had my heart from the first page. If you like historical novels, and heists, and twisty plots, and intriguing characters - this, my friend, is for you, and you are most welcome.
Janice Hadlow has written ‘Rules Of The Heart’, a novel about the life of Henrietta ‘Harriet’ Spencer, the younger sister of the better-known Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, socialite, gambler, and wearer of exuberant hats. I was predisposed to love it - Hadlow also wrote ‘The Other Bennet Sister’, which achieved the impossible and made me like Mary Bennett from ‘Pride and Prejudice’ - but, oh, boy. It’s SO good. If sharing a bottle of wine with a friend while she told you her deepest darkest secrets came in book form - this is that book: gossipy, heartbreaking, alive. It’s available to pre-order now, and out in August.
‘I Have Some Questions For You’ is a terrific novel. It’s a whodunnit and a campus novel and the story of navigating adulthood when your childhood was Not Ideal, and neither is your husband. And it is none of those things, and utterly itself. It made me think of Donna Tartt’s ‘The Secret History’, except this has more characters to actually like, rather than being horribly mesmerised by. And of ‘The Truth About The Harry Quebert Affair’ by Joel Dicker, but without the ick.
Sometimes, when I have a longish train journey, I like to take what a Victorian Lady might describe as ‘a slender volume’ and read it from start to finish. And so it was that I read ‘Rosarita’ on the way back from London yesterday. (Perhaps I should have been wearing a teeny hat with a little veil, a la Edith Wharton heroine, but it really wasn’t the weather for it.)
What a novel this is. It’s about a daughter, asking questions about her mother’s life; it’s about memory and longing; it’s about what’s hidden and what’s told. It has elements of folk tale, and a mysterious stranger. It’s really, really beautiful. It’s an hour of reading that will enchant you.
And that’s it from me, this week. Keep cool, and be well, my friends.
Stephanie x
*Okay, boasting. But this is the only time in my life that I have been ahead of any kind of curve, so I think we can forgive me.
**The first thing that happened when the music started was that a little letter ‘u’ came down and squeezed itself in between the ‘o’ and ‘r’ of ‘neighbour’.
***I love a Caesar salad above almost anything, lunch-wise, and order it at any opportunity. I don’t mind if you hold the anchovies; I do mind if I can’t eat it with a fork only. Hey, I don’t make the rules. (Well, except this one.)
The links in this email take you to my online bookshop, and I get a small commission from anything you order. All of the books I’ve mentioned should be available from most retailers in the UK, or as ebooks from the UK; availability elsewhere will depend on your region, but ask a bookseller, they are very nice.