The Secret Diary of Hendrik Groen, 83 ¼ Years Old

The Secret Diary of Hendrik Groen, 83 ¼ Years Old is a fictional diary of octogenarian Hendrik Groen, resident of an assisted care facility in Amsterdam. He is exasperated by other residents who want only to discuss their ailments and the hard lot of the elderly as they wait for their next meal. He has little time for the management of the home whose rules are often arbitrary and who refuse to allow the residents to see the regulations. Thankfully for his sanity he finds a group of like-minded individuals with whom he forms the Old But Not Dead Club. They take it in turns to organise days out for the group, giving them something to look forward to and causing resentment among the other residents. By the end of the novel the club is struggling with a stroke, amputation, and the onset of Alzheimers for some of its members. It is heartening how they rally together but painfully honest in its depiction of life for the older generation.

The tone is generally light-hearted as he describes the small events that get blown out of all proportion, often sparked by his mischievous friend Evert. Hendrik purchases a mobility scooter at one point, but not before careful consideration. It becomes something of a status symbol and a point of amusement to the others when he receives a speeding ticket. Underneath the humour however is a heartfelt thankfulness for the freedom it provides, opening up the city to him once more.

He comments on the way the female residents fawn over any fresh male blood as there is such a shortage, and how those whose husbands are still with them guard them jealously against the advances of the others. Hendrik is not without his own flush of romance however. When Eefje moves in he finds himself taking extra care of his appearance. Their friendship grows and their sweet closeness makes him wish he’d met her much earlier in life.

A humorous, thought-provoking tale of a man making the most of old age. Nothing is too small or big an issue – from the cliques that form in the care home to the question of euthanasia. Hendrik is a likeable narrator who may not be a fan of the elderly in general but who cares deeply for those closest to him. 

A Country Road, A Tree, Jo Baker

A Country Road, A Tree is Baker’s fictionalized version of Samuel Beckett’s life during the Second World War (though she does not name him in the novel, so you’d be forgiven for missing this). It focuses mainly on his time in France during the Nazi occupation of Paris. We are witness to the privations of the characters and the atmosphere of fear, with people vanishing in the night. Beckett joins the Resistance and flees the city with Suzanne, his lover. It can never be forgotten that he chose to be in France during this difficult time rather than remain in the safety of Ireland, his homeland.

It is clear from the start that he finds Ireland claustrophobic and that it inhibits his ability to write. It is also apparent that his mother feels great terror, understandably, of him being in harm’s way. There is a short scene in Spring 1919 where he has climbed a tree that he knows he’d be in trouble for, mostly for having done something dangerous. This feels poignant as the reader knows the bulk of the novel will be set in World War Two, and indeed, he choses to place himself in the midst of the danger.

We see Paris in various guises – the vibrant, creative city that it is famous for being, and the austere version of war-torn Paris where deprivation is rife and a sinister imprint of Germany hangs over it. It is, however, where he feels more free, even if his friendship with James Joyce does stifle his creative confidence. There’s also the strain that we see rationing put on his relationship with Suzanne, especially so when he gives away his own meagre rations. He also causes her additional problems in his continued involvement with the Resistance. It’s an interesting relationship that is stretched to its limits as they flee the capital, but always it’s not quite conceivable that they wouldn’t be together.

Baker’s attempt to show how the war has shaped Beckett into the author he becomes follows the facts of his life fairly carefully, but does assume some existing knowledge. It has the potential to be a gripping tale but it just didn’t really engage me as much as I would hope.

Canada: Vancouver (Part 1)

We arrived in Vancouver to such rain fogged weather that it was only when we saw the lights on the runway that we caught our first glimpse of Canada. It took a few days for the weather to improve, but undeterred we set out for the University of British Columbia with the aim of visiting the Museum of Anthropology. The University itself is so vast it feels likes it own town, and no doubt has some gorgeous views of the North Shore mountains on clearer days.

The museum houses an impressive array of works by First Nations people of the Pacific Northwest. The Great Hall greets visitors and is a breathtaking space that feels light and spacious and is filled with huge totem poles (a misnomer, as our tour guide explained), feast dishes and canoes. We were lucky to end up on a guided tour of the galleries, which I would highly recommend to any visitor, and were shown how to identify some of the creatures featured in the objects. The whole museum is not exclusively such large objects however, other galleries are full of smaller treasures, and one is even dedicated to ceramics (which admittedly feels a tad out of place).

The temporary exhibition, The Fabric of Our Land: Salish Weaving showcases beautiful woven blankets from the 1800s and modern variations made by today’s weavers. It was a moving exhibition, reading about how important the finished article is and the amount of conscious love that goes into the creation. Truly inspiring.

A few days after this we experienced Pop-up Wedding’s Love in the Square – an incredible celebration of love which this year saw 151 couples tie the knot. Robson Square was transformed for the day with temporary altars set up and queues of brides and grooms waiting their turn. Some came dressed to the nines with large groups of loved ones to celebrate with, others kept it more low key and intimate, but everyone was having a great time. It was a wonderful event to be part of.

We stayed in an Airbnb just off East Hastings, which we’d been warned to be careful about, but we were far enough along not to worry. It proved an interesting place to be with an eclectic mix of shops. Of course, I couldn’t resist visiting the local yarn shop, Baaad Anna’s, which offered a range of luxury yarns and some helpful and friendly advice. Another highlight was Pacific Bread Company. Sandwiched between a 7eleven and a takeaway pizza place you may not expect much, but it is a treasure trove of beautiful patisserie (and offers delicious grilled cheese sandwiches if you need a break from the sugar). Scandilicious also also proved a great breakfast spot, and judging by how busy it was, I’d say we’re not alone in thinking this.

The Lesser Bohemians, Eimear McBride

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The Lesser Bohemians follows Eily, a first year drama student, newly arrived in London from Ireland, throughout the school year, though college is definitely not the focus. She is keen to experience all that student life in a big city has to offer, first on her list – losing her virginity. She succeeds in this aim when she meets an actor twenty years her senior in a pub and ends up back at his bedsit. Thus begins a tumultuous relationship in which she struggles with his habit of promiscuousness and when hurt does things that she instantly regrets. As the novel progresses they grow in emotional intimacy and we see the emotional damage that causes Stephen to struggle with letting love in.

We are not told their names until quite late in the novel, Stephen’s especially comes so late that it feels almost awkward, but perhaps this is an attempt to indicate a better depth of knowing the characters. Alongside the disclosure of names there is also a shift to more access to dialogue between them, and the terms of affection that they use, perhaps an indicator of the move towards, and acceptance of, affection beyond desire.

The narrative style is instantly striking, described by McBride as stream of experience rather than consciousness as it deals with far more than the mind. There is something poetic about the writing that sweeps you along in it. An entire book in a type of stream of consciousness would usually be far from enjoyable for me, but not so here, so expertly crafted that it feels entirely natural. Experiencing everything as Eily does gives us a real sense of intimacy with the characters and a rawness to the emotions. When it feels that disaster is being foreshadowed your heart will break at the thought of it.

Stephen is kind to Eily on their first night together, her beliefs about his desire causes a souring in relations, but he still shows a level of care in the morning. They seem to constantly be hurting each other at just the moment the other makes a real effort, but underneath it all there seems genuine affection. The way Stephen treats Eily is at times difficult to watch, especially when we see how it impacts her beyond their time together. Despite the difficulties they seem drawn to each other, and you do find yourself rooting for them to find a way to happiness together.

A beautiful, intriguing novel, recently revealed to be the first of a trilogy. It feels complete as it is, but I doubt I’ll be able to resist the sequel.

Pick up a copy:

Foyles

Waterstones

What Belongs To You, Garth Greenwell

Greenwell’s debut novel is told to use by its unnamed protagonist, an American teaching in a school in Sofia, Bulgaria. He meets a male prostitute, Mitko, and becomes somewhat obsessed by their relationship. The first section, initially published as a novella, tells of their encounters and the increasing intensity of the narrator’s feelings. The second section focuses on the narrator’s upbringing and difficult relationship with his family, and the third brings us to two years after the last described scene with Mitko. We see the narrator vulnerable and conflicted, we gain a sense of how his sense of self was formed and the shame he feels in desire, and in the final section we are shown how far he has come, or perhaps how little has changed.

His relationship with Mitko is an interesting one, there is a blurring of the lines and Mitko seems to want to make him believe that they are close friends. He also spends a significant amount of time speaking with other male clients and arranging to see them when he has agreed to spend the night with the narrator. Mitko expects more than is offered, ordering too much food and buying expensive bottles of alcohol when he is not the one paying. The narrator lets him do these things but it is never entirely clear whether this is out of genuine concern or guilt. There’s also a sense of fear that permeates their relationship and could contribute to his pliability.

The narrator is determined to recall events accurately, but he finds Mitko’s behaviour confusing and so cannot shed much light on his motives. There’s also the fact that he is not fluent in Bulgarian, often reporting that he hadn’t entirely understood what was being said. The fact that he is recalling events years after they happened also contributes to the idea that he may not be an entirely reliable narrator. His preoccupation with intimacy is clear however, whether from his descriptions of rejection and shame in his youth, or watching children’s intimacy with parents and acknowledging that in a few years' time those same actions would be deemed inappropriate.

A short, powerful novel that explores the lasting impact of childhood impressions and the complex task of attaining genuine intimacy in adulthood.

The Sport of Kings, C. E. Morgan

C. E. Morgan’s epic is ostensibly about horse racing, but don’t let this put you off if it’s not something that appeals – it’s a multi-faceted beast which deals with racism and womanhood as well as a plethora of other hard-hitting issues. First we are introduced to the Forge family, a wealthy farm owning family that has a tendency toward tyrannical fathers. Henry hates his father John Henry and ignores his wishes for the family business, but as the novel progresses we see Henry follow in the footsteps of his father in the treatment of his own family. Next we are introduced to Allmon Shaughnessy, son of a black mother and an absentee white father. We see him struggle with the racism that is endemic around him. He is forced into illegal activity in his desperation to help his mother with her medical bills. Her condition and suffering highlights the problems within the health service of America in a truly harrowing fashion. Allmon ends up in prison and it is this which eventually gives him the skills to gain a job at Forge Run Farm, an establishment we are told one of his ancestors was a slave at. The interconnectedness is painful, but Allmon is determined to be the one with the power in the future. He hadn’t reckoned on Henry’s daughter Henrietta however, a strong-willed, intelligent woman who participates in a seemingly endless string of one-night stands and holds within her the possibility of happiness but also destruction.

She is an intriguing character. Her mother left when she was still a child, confiding that men always want something from you, but believing her new love was different. Their relationship fizzles to almost non-existent and she is left at the mercy of her father. He exposes her to activities not suitable for her tender age, and we see his father’s obsession with continuing and strengthening the family name manifest itself in an even more sinister form with his daughter.

Allmon’s life is difficult from the start. He and his mother are rejected by their local community because of his having a white father, but he is subjected to all the prejudices of the police as if he didn’t. His arrival at Forge Run Farm could prove his saving grace, but Henry is unlikely to make it easy for him.

The juxtaposition of these two characters, with such different upbringings but both trapped within a world in which they have very little control, both finding their own way to fight against these restraints form the crux of the novel and lead us into its eventual climax.

A verbose, complex novel that hops around in time and voice. Oddly addictive, this heart-wrenching novel is a wonderful read and definitely worth persevering with.

The Woman in White, Charing Cross Theatre, 4th February 2018

Andrew Lloyd Webber’s 2004 flop has been reinvigorated in Thom Southland’s revival at the Charing Cross Theatre. Condensed from its original three-hour length and with a set design more evocative of the nineteenth century from which the story was born, it is a pleasant evening at the theatre but has lost the intensity of Wilkie Collins’ novel on which it is based.

The action revolves around a trio of women – Laura Fairlie, Marian Halcombe, her elder half-sister, and the mysterious woman in white. Percival Glyde and Count Fosco work together to trap Laura and gain her fortune. Laura is encouraged into marriage with Glyde despite her love of the drawing tutor Walter Hartwright. A mystery unravels before us as they try to save Laura and discover the secret of the woman in white. Glyde portrays none of the charm apparent in the novel, instead being harsh and abusive almost instantly. His accomplice, Count Fosco, is not as sinister as the original and indeed provides comic relief in Act Two with his rendition of You Can Get Away With Anything, skillfully delivered by Greg Castiglioni. 

The performers are at the top of their game, seemingly breezing through the more challenging vocal elements. I felt. However, that I was constantly waiting for a signature Lloyd Webber showstopper that never quite materialized. There were familiar strains in some of the songs but they were overall forgettable, however skillfully delivered.

The costume and set design are again not to be faulted, making the most of a small performance space and successfully transporting the audience through the scenes with minimal set changes. The production overall seems to have lost the mysterious, disturbing heart that makes the novel such a joy to read. The characters and plot are subdued to feel more like a saccharine period drama. An inoffensive, well performed piece of musical theatre that is unlikely to inspire many repeat viewings.