Blog Tour: The Sky Beneath Us, Fiona Valpy

This post is part of a blog tour. Thank you to Random Things Tours and Lake Union Publishing for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

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It’s March 2020 and Daisy is on her way to Kathmandu in the search of an ancestor’s story when her Mum phones to tell her she’s no longer able to join her as she’s come down with Covid. Daisy is encouraged to keep going, everyone believing the virus will only be an issue for a few weeks and so she does, but when she arrives things begin to fall apart. Treks are cancelled, flights are grounded, and it seems like she’s going to be stuck there before she’s even had a chance to get to Phortse to look for traces of Violet. She’s brought with her the letters and journals she found in an old chest at their Scottish estate that Violet wrote in the 1920s. A strong-willed, independent young woman, she went to Edinburgh to study at the School of Gardening against her family’s wishes. When she fell in love with a fellow gardener neither her family nor his approved, but an opportunity for him to assist on an expedition to Nepal provides hope for them to break free of their families and set up a home of their own. The last journal entry Daisy has is from 1929, when Violet’s story is really just beginning. Will she be able to uncover the rest of her story or will Covid ruin her plans?

Family is central to the story. Daisy’s marriage broke down after she gave up everything, leaving Scotland and a successful gardening business to move to London with her husband, and the trip to Nepal was about more than just searching for Violet, but also about rediscovering herself, finding her way out of the slump she’s been in since the marriage ended. Her relationship with her mother feels very relatable right from the start, with her playing down how she’s feeling with Covid and focussing on Daisy succeeding. Her relationship with her twin daughters, off to University, is transitioning, both as they find their way into adulthood, but also as they navigate the marriage breakdown and all the mess that comes with it. For Violet, family was a source of anxiety and restriction, with social mores being of utmost importance. Her relationship with her sister Hetty, however, was an essential part of her life, keeping her grounded and connected to Scotland long after she set off for Nepal. Her desire to look after her own daughter also showed her the lengths she would go to in order to keep her safe, to protect a part of Callum, her betrothed, with all that she can. We see how family and love can be a source of huge strength, but also a net that constrains if you let it.

Daisy and Violet are connected across the decades with a love of plants and a willingness to step outside their comfort zone. Valpy’s writing is evocative, bringing to life the landscapes they’re in, whether it be a cold and windy Edinburgh, or the glorious mountains of Nepal. You feel as if you can breathe the fresh mountain air and see the spectacular valleys of exotic flowers. It’s also a fascinating look into the practice of plant hunting and how findings were recorded and sent back to the UK.

The two women’s lives mirror each other also in living through periods of global upheaval. Violet lives in the aftermath of the First World War, through the Great Depression, and into the Second World War, whose darkness reaches her even in the mountains. The village of Phortse is also hugely impacted by the first successful attempt to summit Everest. The Sherpas believe it is wrong to climb the mountains, standing on the heads of gods, and so there is reluctance to become guides, despite the financial benefits it brings. The women stay home and pray for the forgiveness of the men and their safe return, but they accept that the tragedies that befall those who climb it are punishments from the gods. Daisy experiences the loneliness and anxiety of a world shut down by pandemic, and the pain of being separated from family at a time of trauma. Valpy constructs the story in such a way that these parallels are very clearly drawn. We see also how they both benefit from the welcoming community of Sherpas that they’re lucky enough to meet and stay with. The realisation that although life in the mountains is hard there is a freedom to it, and a strength in the love they experience. 

This is a gripping read, with the switch between time periods keeping you wanting more. The Covid lockdowns still being fresh in our memories, it can be emotional to read fiction based around them, bringing back the uncertainty and suffering, the isolation and sacrifices people made in being separated from loved ones in their final days. It is a reminder to never take your family for granted, nor to become complacent in the life we lead, which can be utterly unrecognisable in the blink of an eye. At times the plot is slightly predictable, but you are so invested in the characters that it doesn’t matter, your heart is shattered with them. 

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Walking the West Highland Way, Part Two - Rowardennan to Inveroran

Having stayed two nights in Rowardennan for the pleasure of climbing Ben Lomond, walkers that had started on the same day as us had raced ahead and we wouldn’t see them again. On day three we were to meet those we’d encounter most days until we reached Fort William. The trail seemed busier than the first two days, suggesting that most start their walk on a Monday. I say it was busier, but we still felt we were on our own for the majority of the journey.

Day three, Rowardennan to Inverarnan, is widely considered to be the toughest day. I’d done as much research as I could to understand what challenges lay ahead. The main message was that there would be a lot of rocks to clamber over and tree roots to navigate. I had been concerned that all fourteen miles would be a slog but some last minute intel suggested the worst of it covered only about three miles, which gave me some hope.

An honesty box heading out of Rowardennan

The start of the day was fairly gentle. An honesty box not far out of Rowardennan offered the chance to stock up on snacks and blister plasters. The path was fairly wide and flat, the loch on one side, intermittent gentle waterfalls on the other. Knowing that the afternoon was set to be a challenge we opted for the high route, hoping to make the journey to Inversnaid as painless as possible. We didn’t regret it. Rather than descend to a narrow, rocky path, we were treated to a continuation of the wide smooth path we’d been enjoying for most of the morning. We were surrounded by pine trees and moss covered undergrowth, the occasional view across the loch visible. 

Views on the high route

When the two routes converged the path began to get narrower, an abundance of ferns lining the route. We dropped down to the level of the water with some small beaches to enjoy the full view across the loch. As we approached Inversnaid the path became rockier and there was one final steep ascent to take us to the bridge to cross the waterfall and down to Inversnaid Hotel, the only place on the route to buy food until Inverarnan. Walkers happy to add a bit more incline can go in search of the bunkhouse which I believe also serves food.

Reviews of the hotel did not always sing the praises of how welcome walkers are, but we found our reception perfectly friendly. They have a dedicated room to leave your rucksack and boots, and a room where you’re welcome to eat a packed lunch if you have one. The bar itself only serves food until one o’clock so it’s worth ensuring you arrive in good time. I would highly recommend the scones.

A rocky section of the walk

After a pleasant lunch overlooking the loch we set off to see what this infamous section of the Way had to offer. There’s no denying it is slow going, and I was grateful to have a walking partner to pull me up some of the trickier sections, but overall it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. There are sections of relatively smooth path between the rockier sections but there is a lot of up and down and you have to watch where you’re putting your feet so much that there’s not much opportunity to look up and appreciate where you are. 

An overgrown section of the path

After a few hours we emerged from the trees on to a beach which felt like the end of the loch (it was not). It was a nice spot to sit and enjoy the views. The path from there is more open for a while, although overgrown in places. You’ll still experience more rocks on the journey but the worst is now behind you.

Final views of Loch Lomond

You bid farewell to the loch from an elevated position, offering a sense of space and distance. A small plane swept through as we were enjoying the view. Looking ahead you can see rolling mountains, giving a taste of what your next few days will involve. I was a little sad to leave the loch behind, it had provided a beautiful backdrop to the walk so far, but the scenery for the rest of the route soon cured me of this.

Into the mountains

The descent into Inverarnan felt like a bit of a slog after a long day of walking. It’s not the most scenic part of the route as your view is blocked by trees, and although you catch glimpses of where you’re going it’s a long time before you arrive.

Our home for the night was the Drovers’ Inn. Built in 1705, this inn is said to be haunted. We didn’t see any ghosts but you can’t help but see a lot of taxidermy. The reception area includes a stuffed Canadian bear (in a kilt, of course) and the collection spreads throughout the bar. The staff were all friendly and they really went above and beyond.

The following day would see us walk to Tyndrum on what would prove to be a beautiful, varied route. The day started with a series of waterfalls as you follow the River Falloch. Before long you are climbing to some stunning panoramic views of the mountains, a road just about visible but far enough away not to disturb the peace of the walk.

Waterfalls on day four

The path splits with an option to stop off in Crianlarich, which we didn’t take as we were well stocked up on supplies, but regretted not being able to get the stamp for our West Highland Way passport. There is an information board and bench at the fork which make for a convenient place for a lunch break, but if you can withhold the hunger for a little longer, at the top of the next hill there are picnic benches with arguably even more beautiful views.

Some very official looking way-marking

The path then winds its way through forestry track, with some sad views over expanses of land where the trees have all been chopped down. Descending to the valley floor you cross a river and pass through farmland. It was here we saw our only highland cow of the walk.

Farmland might not sound the most thrilling of landscapes but it felt idyllic as the clouds cleared and the sun shone brightly on fields ringed by mountains. Again, there were information boards telling you which mountains you could see as well as some information about the land and its uses. You’ll also see the remains of the fourteenth century St. Fillan’s Priory with connections to Robert the Bruce and an historic graveyard.

Idyllic views across the farmland

The path then takes what feels like a circuitous route up and through a heather-lined path before descending once more into the small village of Tyndrum. Home to the famous Green Welly Stop, it’s a good place to stock up as there’s minimal opportunities on the rest of the route.

The next day’s walk to Inveroran goes through open landscapes with views for miles. The path is wide enough to walk two abreast and is not too tough on the feet. You have clear views of Beinn Odhar, standing slightly apart from the other peaks, it appears as a cone. Once you’ve circled it the path remains open and you see glimpses of the railway line which would offer stunning views without the effort of the hike. Eventually you descend to the Bridge of Orchy, a small picturesque village where refreshments can be procured and facilities used at the Bridge of Orchy Hotel where sandwiches come super-sized as standard.

Beinn Odhar

Crossing the River Orchy you have the chance to look back and admire the stone bridge, mountains rising above the sprinkling of white houses. A forestry path ascends with beautiful views over the mountains and your first glimpses of Loch Tulla. Reaching the peak provided one of my favourite views of the walk as a stunning panorama of mountains opened up, the loch stretching into the distance, with what looks like a gingerbread house perched on its edge.

The Bridge of Orchy

It was a peaceful place, one pair of walkers visible on their descent but otherwise nobody in sight for as far as they eye could see. Having made good time there was no pressure to rush ahead and so we were able to sit awhile and enjoy the view, appreciating the joy that comes with spending every day in gorgeous landscapes under mercifully clear skies. A deep contentment settles and a desire for life to be made up of more moments like this.

Stunning views before the final descent of the day

As was so often the case you could see the end point some time before arriving. It was a relatively steep descent, again with loose gravel and larger rocks protruding. I was grateful for my walking poles which stopped me falling over more than once.

Inveroran Hotel itself was a lovely place to stay, the owners have obviously put a lot of thought into making it a pleasant rest stop, and the dinner was the best I had on the trail.

Blog Tour: This Motherless Land, Nikki May

This post is part of a blog tour. Thank you to Random Things Tours and Doubleday for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

This post contains affiliate links. If you click through and buy I will receive a percentage commission at no extra cost to you.

Funke lives a happy life in Lagos with parents who clearly love each other and a little brother who she bickers with as siblings do, but who she ultimately has a healthy relationship with. She is intelligent and has a promising future ahead of her, but then tragedy strikes and she is sent to live in England with relatives she’s never met, and who disowned her mother for falling in love with a Nigerian man. 

Settling in to England is made easier by her cousin Liv, the only person who seems genuinely happy to have her there. She tries to protect Funke (or Kate, as her English family insist on calling her) from the worst of her mother’s bile and tries to help celebrate the good times. She helps Funke to begin thinking of England as home, and in some ways reminds her of her mother who always made the bad times feel better and went all out in celebrating the good times. 

Margot, Funke’s aunt, and Dominic, her cousin, are overtly racist and treat Funke as if she is a savage who doesn’t know how to speak or swim. Although Liv is kinder she has absorbed some of the prejudice she has grown up around and it spills out at times. Funke has experienced othering for much of her life, growing up with a white mum in Nigeria she was teased for being mixed race. Later, she will return to Nigeria and have to re-learn the norms and behaviours of the country after spending years assimilating to English culture. There’s a sense that she’s never quite fully of the culture wherever she is in the eyes of those around her.

The writing is lively and engaging and you feel you have a good sense of who the characters are within a few pages of being introduced. The interactions between Funke and her family in the opening sections feel so natural and relatable, you instantly feel in safe hands with May guiding you through the story. 

May’s writing really makes you feel for the characters. Funke’s heartbreak and sense of isolation are beautifully written and sensitively handled. Her aunt Margot makes your blood boil in her spitefulness and selfishness. She appears completely without morals and her sense of entitlement is in the extreme. The grandparents have their flaws but you can see a human side to them. They become close to Funke and regret what happened with her mother. Still, Funke is is not treated equally to her cousins. There is always a sense that they are doing her a kindness rather than treating her fully as a member of the family.

Connection to family and familial duty is a central theme in the novel. Funke has many times when she feels abandoned by those she loves yet she doesn’t lose her desire to hear from them, to share her successes with them even after years of cruel silence. She sometimes wishes she were able to forget about them. She searches for connection to her mother when she moves to England, thinking that she will find traces of her there. Instead, she is often left feeling the complete absence. It is heartening to see her find that connection in Lagos where so many were touched by her mother’s commitment to education and her generosity of spirit. 

The Stone family is certainly self-interested and will do what they can to protect the family name (and their inheritance). Margot pulls strings to help her children succeed, or at the very least, give the impression of success. Yet she shows very little love to Liv, constantly criticising her weight and personality. Even as an adult, when she has been through some real trauma, conversations between them are difficult, Margot picking an aspect of her life to pull apart every time they speak. She never sees or acknowledges the light in her daughter nor does she offer support when she really needs it. Despite this, Liv has a sense of duty to her family and has moments of having to choose between doing the right thing and doing what will protect the family reputation. We see time and again how such decisions reverberate across decades, generations. 

This is a brilliantly written, gripping book that is genuinely difficult to put down. A modern re-telling of Mansfield Park, you don’t need to have read the original to enjoy it (I haven’t and was completely hooked. It was interesting to think about how the scenarios might have played out in the nineteenth century.) There is so much depth to this book it would be a mammoth essay that discussed it all. One of the best books I’ve read this year.

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Walking the West Highland Way, Part One - Milngavie to Rowardennan

The start of the West Highland Way, Milngavie

Sometime in the summer of 2023 my husband suggested that we walk the West Highland Way, Scotland’s first long distance trail, and one known for the variety of its stunning scenery. I eagerly agreed, not really considering how much it would take over our lives. We were not beginning from a point of peak physical fitness and so training was to be an important part of our preparations. Weekends were consumed with long walks, leaving us feeling that we were losing our one day of rest a week. I’d be lying if I said we always set off enthusiastically but I was (almost) always glad to have been. As the seasons changed and the levels of mud slowly decreased it was cheering to see the scenery change and the landscape gradually come alive once more. Various patches of ill health and injury meant we set off for Scotland feeling less well prepared to undertake a 96 mile walk than I would have hoped. We’d done as much as we could and would just have to hope it would be enough.

Day one views

After a difficult journey to the starting line with a cancelled train and no available seats for several hours we set out on a semi-sunny Sunday morning from Milngavie. I admit that I had expected the scenery on the first day to be fairly underwhelming but was pleasantly surprised. We may have been starting the day in a small town but we were soon among the trees and it wasn’t long before we were walking through vast landscapes with panoramic views. I was also struck by the sheer volume of wildflowers lining the route, adding colour and attracting a variety of insects.

Wildflowers on day one

The Beech Tree was a welcome stop for lunch, many other walkers gratefully taking off their packs and resting their sore feet. Not only were we able to get a hearty meal, we were greeted by Shetland ponies, fluffy quails were roaming the garden, and there was a play area for children. After a short rest and a little bit of rain we were on our way again to the first overnight stop, Drymen. We arrived in time to stretch and shower before dinner at Scotland’s oldest licensed pub, the first stop of many along the route which boast an impressive history.

Conic Hill and Loch Lomond

We awoke the next day achey but excited to see what day two had in store for us, little expecting quite how many inclines lay between us and our beds in Rowardennan. After some narrow, overgrown paths we were soon on wider woodland track with our first glimpses of Loch Lomond through the trees. Conic Hill, our first major incline, was visible in the distance long before we started the ascent. Walking ever closer you get excellent views of the loch in the distance and the distinctive shape which gives the hill its ‘dragon’s back’ nickname.

A tiring climb rewards you with gorgeous views across the loch and its islands. The descent was a long series of stone steps, recently repaired. Ascending via these from Balmaha would be fairly relentless but made an easier descent than the loose gravel and rocks would have done.

Balmaha

Balmaha is small but picturesque, nestled on the shore with a visitor centre, pub, and shop. The remainder of the day’s walk followed the edge of the loch, which you’d be forgiven for thinking would be fairly flat. Far from it, you do nonetheless have some time walking alongside a series of small, secluded beaches. One larger expanse was full of people enjoying the sunshine and paddling in the water. It was incredibly tempting to go in the water, glistening on what was a beautiful summer’s day, but with a long way still to go we kept moving. 

The path along the loch

The surrounds were lush green, the proliferation of ferns giving something of a pre-historic feel. On reaching Sallochy campsite we thought ourselves almost there but we hadn’t reckoned on the final steep climb of the day. We arrived exhausted around ten hours after setting off, just scraping in in time for dinner in a beer garden with glorious views on the loch and Ben Lomond. Despite being a tiring day I realised that all the quips about this not being a relaxing holiday, or indeed really a break at all were wrong. Yes, it was physically challenging but it was rejuvenating in a way that a city break wouldn’t be. Time in nature is so incredibly precious.

Beer garden views at The Clansman Bar, Rowardennan

We stayed two nights in Rowardennan to allow ourselves time to climb Ben Lomond. The forecast on the night we arrived didn’t look promising and so we were beginning to prepare ourselves for a day of rest. However, the next day dawned beautifully clear and the forecast had shifted the start of the rain until late afternoon so we risked it, thinking that we’d likely be most of the way down by the time the rain kicked in.

Our legs protested at the slightest incline but we persevered, one step at a time. About two thirds of the way up I became concerned by the strength of the wind, the gusts challenging my stability. With encouragement, we kept going, the wind barely letting up. As we approached the final scramble via a narrow path next to a steep drop, edging our way along, the wind buffeting against us, I felt incredibly unsafe and that we’d been foolish to not have turned back. The views across Loch Lomond are undeniably beautiful, but there was no time to enjoy the fruits of our efforts as the first drops of rain fell. 

Views across the loch from Ben Lomond

What followed was a difficult descent, the wind whipping around us and screeching in our ears was more unbearable for its persistence than the rain that was being directed at us, colliding with our skin like cold needle pricks. On our way up we’d passed people working on improving the path and I was surprised to discover they were continuing on. 

It was a slow descent, the wind trying to sweep my feet out from under me on each steep step down, and making me stumble even on the smoother sections. It felt interminable and I say with all sincerity that I thought we might die on that mountain, and that it would be our own fault for racing the weather and continuing on when it began to feel unsafe. The existence of this post signals the fact we made it down, mercifully unharmed, but I write this as a warning - please don’t underestimate even relatively short mountains, and listen to your instincts, if you feel unsafe, turn back. Our experience may have been less than ideal but in better weather I think it would have been a pleasant climb. The path is well maintained, fairly solid and stable, and varied enough that if you’re not too keen on one type of terrain you won’t have to put up with it for long. As you ascend more and more of the loch reveals itself, and the peak allows views of a sea of mountains. On a good day, it’s a walk I’d recommend.

Views from Ben Lomond

Book Review: Takeaway: Stories From A Childhood Behind The Counter, Angela Hui

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Growing up in the small Welsh village of Beddau, Hui spent her evenings and weekends serving customers in the family Chinese takeaway, packing prawn crackers, and on ‘lid duty’. She struggles with the separation this causes between her and her school friends, never able to spend any significant time hanging out with them. It’s also difficult as a young woman being on the front line of customer service, having to deal with sometimes abusive customers and men making inappropriate comments. Family life is a constant slog and it puts a strain on all of them, her mother holding everything together while her father gambles away a lot of their earnings and becomes increasingly aggressive. Despite this, they make time to prepare wholesome meals to share as a family before service begins. 

For some readers it will seem that not a huge amount happens in this book. The repetitive nature of the endless labour is reflected in the narrative, and moments of climax often pass without too severe consequences. However, it is this repetition of labour, the growing up in an environment where you feel under attack from the local population, the endless casual racism which shape Hui during her formative years. She has no escape from it. There is very little time for rest in takeaway life. At weekends they sometimes go to Cardiff but this involves Chinese lessons, which she does not enjoy, going to wholesale food suppliers to purchase items for the business, and, the best part, family meal in a restaurant full of people they know. A wonderful social event where they can indulge in food they didn’t have to prepare themselves.

A recurring theme of the book is Hui’s feelings of disconnection. She doesn’t feel entirely at ease in China as she has spent her whole life in Wales, and yet in the Welsh Valley she is seen as foreign and is othered. She also struggles with the language barrier with her parents, who have tried to learn English but only have quite a basic grasp of it. This means that Hui and her brothers have to act as translators for them and take on more of the admin work than you would ordinarily expect from children. This puts a strain on the relationship as a sense of resentment grows, but also means that she feels she can’t talk to her parents about things that really matter to her. She continues to struggle with what she sees as the two separate parts of her life into young adulthood as she goes to University and leaves the family home. She tries desperately to keep different aspects of her life separate, especially when it comes to boyfriends, who she is convinced her parents won’t approve of for not being Chinese. It is cathartic for her to realise it’s OK to blur the lines and let people in to her whole world. 

The book is a thoughtful portrayal of the struggles of being a teenager and growing up in a world where there isn’t any separation between home life and work, but it is also an exploration of the work that goes in behind the scenes at a takeaway. We see throughout how relentless the work is, how it shapes their family life, and that on days where everyone else is relaxing and celebrating, they are working even harder. Customers can be lovely and become familiar, while others take any opportunity to complain and forget that the person behind the counter is trying their best and has feelings too. The descriptions of her feeling exposed to unpleasant customers, often making her uncomfortable as a young woman, are visceral, and are reminiscent of many experiences of working in customer service. Local youths frequently torment them, coming in with fake money, stealing plants from their back garden, and even breaking their window. Hui’s parents are reluctant to ever get the police involved and try to deal with situations themselves. Her mother is firm and will stand her ground when the customer is in the wrong. Her father on occasions oversteps the mark and threatens violence. Nonetheless, they feel vulnerable, and as technology changes and they don’t keep up it becomes increasingly difficult to turn a profit. 

I was quite shocked by the racism they experience, and Hui expresses how it wears you down. She is disappointed at her graduation that her name is mis-pronounced, and after a lifetime of being asked where she’s really from, having prank callers phone the takeaway regularly to mock her family’s country of origin, and people’s shock at her ability to speak the language of the country in which she was born, it is felt keenly. She also discusses the way the food they serve in their takeaway has been designed for a Western palate. Her parents don’t like them to eat what’s on the menu because it is unhealthy, and her father keeps his best dishes just for them. Food is a sign of love for her parents, and having suffered severe food shortages in their own youth they are determined that their children are well fed. 

An interesting read that combines a coming of age tale that many can relate to yet with specific challenges, and a broader discussion on the clash of cultures and the sense of being an outsider that is familiar to many who have chosen a new country to call home. Food is central to the text, with vividly described meals and even recipes at the end of each chapter. There are a few moments of (presumably) unintentional repetition where we are told the same snippets of anecdotes again, but broadly this is an enjoyable read.

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