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.

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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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Blog Tour: What Everyone Knows About the British (Except the British), Michael Peel

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

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Having spent a number of years living abroad working as a Foreign Correspondent, Peel is surprised by the Britain he returns to. This is the jumping off point into an investigation into the myths Britons tell themselves about their history and current status in the world, and some harsh realities about what’s going on behind these myths. It is as up to date as you can hope from a book, with King Charles’ coronation included and the seemingly endless cycle of Tory PMs the country has suffered under in recent years. This is a no holds barred look at the state of modern Britain. If you’re a staunch nationalist who clings to the idea of the Blitz Spirit you may find this a difficult read, but this is not a rambling opinion piece, Peel’s work is grounded in research, input from experts, and attempts to receive comment from the organisations in question (which often go unanswered).

Brexit naturally makes a repeat appearance and early discussions involve a look at the misconceptions that may have contributed to the referendum’s outcome. It comes as no surprise that people over-estimate the levels of immigration, and underestimated (quite drastically) the amount of investment the EU provided. Peel also looks at the prevailing myths around the type of voter who opted to leave, and their motivations, all signs of political parties twisting the narrative to serve their purposes. Divisive rhetoric may have short term gains for them but ultimately will do more harm than good. 

Myths around Britain’s role in history, as epitomised in the Life in the UK test, taken by anyone who wants to settle here, are examined. The propensity to downplay the contributions of people from other countries in what are seen as successes contrast to the complete absolving of any guilt or participation in the darker parts of history. The role of Britain in colonial history is increasingly being brought to the fore by organisations such as the National Trust, but they receive a huge amount of pushback, not because what they are highlighting is false, but merely because many would rather pretend it didn’t happen. 

This ties in with the following section on monarchy, a popular topic for debate in recent years with the jubilee, passing of Queen Elizabeth II and the coronation of King Charles III. Although many try to push down questions about the place of inherited privilege in the modern world and the Royal Family’s historic ties to colonialism and everything that came with it (as well as their less than transparent finances), the truth remains that there’s a lot to unpack. Throughout the book Peel compares Britain’s position to that of other countries, often ones that people would think of as more corrupt or less democratic, but which make apparent that there are a lot of similarities.  

This is a fascinating, well researched book which is likely to enrage you at times. I enjoyed learning more about the history and current political situations in other countries alongside reconsidering the current climate in the UK. For a book that deals with some heavy topics it is remarkably easy to read.

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Blog Tour: The Quality of Love, Ariane Bankes

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

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When Ariane's mother Celia dies she inherits a trunk full of letters, diaries, and photographs. These document the life of Celia and her twin sister Mamaine and the remarkable loves and friendships they had. Their life started modestly, their mother died a week after their birth and they spent a quiet childhood in the Suffolk countryside with their father and nanny. Sadly, at the age of eleven, they lost their father too and were sent to live with their uncle near Richmond. They struggled to settle into their new life, the shock of their grief feeling at times insurmountable. When they began the debutante ball circles they were incredibly bored and had no interest in any of the men they were there to impress. Before long they were forging their own path, travelling Europe and making friends with some of the leading intellectuals of the day.

The book focuses largely on the men in their lives, who frequently fell in love with them, and with whom they had the knack of remaining friends with despite rejections or break ups. Mamaine spent several years with Arthur Koestler, a fairly erratic relationship with high tempers and depressions. They lived for some time in a remote home in Wales where the weather was miserable, they were without water when it got too cold, and whose damp atmosphere did nothing to help Mamaine’s recurring asthma. She also had a whirlwind romance with Albert Camus during her relationship with Koestler. They were besotted with each other, their shared weeks being held on to as some of the best of either of their lives. They remained in each other’s circles but tried to remain a healthy distance for a time while their hearts settled down. She was not with either of them at the time of her death but both felt the loss heavily, and anxiously awaited news during her illness.

Celia was no less popular, having been proposed to by George Orwell. Again, they remained close despite the proposal having been rejected. He enjoyed her genuine interest in his son and it is clear that both twins were able to hold their own intellectually in the most formidable company. Celia eventually found a stable relationship with Bankes’ eventual father, who came to the relationship with existing children. It must be a slightly odd experience writing about the love life of your mother but Bankes handles it without apparent discomfort.

The twins come across as kind and intelligent. Mamaine helps edit Koestler’s work and Celia works on History Today. Despite their busy, international lives, they always prioritise each other. Letters go back and forth and it is a great pain to them when logistics keep them without news of the other. At one point delays in the post prove almost fatal when news of a shared medical allergy can’t be communicated efficiently. The book is rooted in the letters they wrote and received, not only between each other but with their friends and lovers. At times Bankes admits to only having one half of the correspondence, but much can be gleaned from the responses. 

An incredibly easy read covering a tumultuous period in European history. The narrative moves at a pace, with brief introductions to the various characters before we move on to the next acquaintance. At times we jump forward in time and are told how a relationship resolves which can be a little confusing, but it is rare. Overall an evocative look at remarkable lives which offers a more personal side of some of the biggest names of the age.

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Book Review: The Wild Silence, Raynor Winn

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The Wild Silence picks up where The Salt Path left off. Moth and Raynor are living in rented rooms in a chapel, Moth is studying, and Raynor continues to seek work while simultaneously becoming more and more socially anxious. Even within the safety of their home she struggles to sleep unless she is inside the tent. Transitioning back into a settled life proves more difficult than she had imagined, and with Moth at the University for the majority of the day she spends most of her time alone, worrying about how the sedentary lifestyle is affecting her husband’s health. She spends time trying to work out the science behind why his health improved during their months long walk along the South West Coast Path despite the fact doctors had advised him to take it easy. 

Decline and death are always on the periphery, and it is brought into sharper focus when Raynor’s mother is taken seriously ill. As she returns to the place she grew up and has to confront the imminent loss of a parent she begins to explore the past. Her parents never approved of Moth, this free-spirited young man who took her to the mountains at every opportunity. She looks back at their early relationship, the trips that didn’t go to plan, the difficult situations they’ve shared and survived, and the burgeoning love she felt for him, her reliance on him throughout, and her unwavering trust. She would follow him anywhere. And yet, in the difficult last days of her mother’s life she refuses to let him be there for her, she cannot bear to have him see death, to see his future laid bare. Perhaps even more so, she can’t allow the reality of that future to touch her, she has to keep them separate. Her honesty about the sometimes strained relationship with her parents is refreshing, letting us in on the realities of contemplating a lifetime connection at the very end. These passages are entirely heartbreaking - for those who have lost a parent it will likely feel all too familiar and for those dreading the day this loss comes for them, the stark honesty will make you want to hold your loved ones close.

As Moth’s health deteriorates so does his memory. Raynor is shocked to discover that he is losing memory of parts of their walk, a shared experience that feels so important to her that he remember. As a response, she writes a memoir about the walk as a gift to him. This eventually becomes The Salt Path, and in this, its sequel, we are privy to the disorienting process that led to its publication. For someone increasingly struggling to be around other people, and wanting to hide their former homelessness from the local community, their story becoming public and the demand for her to take part in publicity events is a challenge. However, the book proves a great opportunity for them, leading to contacts that have the potential to change their life. One such contact leads to them taking on a farm in an attempt to regenerate it. It is a huge job, and it seems wrong that they are expected to pay rent for a home that is uninhabitable while they sink their own money and a huge amount of time into not just the land but the home. Despite the challenges and the physical toll it takes, seeing the land begin to come to life, the local wildlife return, brings a sense of peace.

Constantly torn between desperately wanting to keep Moth moving, and fear that her insistence that he doesn’t rest is making him worse, by the end of the book they are on a challenging hike in the hostile wilderness of Iceland, on the cusp of winter setting in. Along the way they are surprised by how other hikers behave around them. They all seem to be in their twenties and don’t want to mix with the group of older walkers, but there is an underlying strangeness to the way they interact with them. It’s only later that Raynor realises how they already know their story.

A slightly meandering narrative that covers a lot of ground. This is a lot less of a hiking memoir than The Salt Path, more of a personal exploration of a marriage and the relationships that hold our lives together. The passages about having her first book published feel somewhat meta, but it is an honest portrayal of the joys and challenges that come with success. Winn never shies away from the difficult moments in life and lays bare intimate details of some of the most challenging experiences. An emotional read, and one that briefly re-caps her story to date so you could pick it up even if you haven’t read the first book, although it is definitely worth reading both. 

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Blog Tour: The Rabbits, A.A. Milne

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

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Today, best known for his delightful children’s stories based around Winnie-the-Pooh and friends, A.A. Milne published many popular stories for adults during his career. These new editions from Farrago give a new generation of readers a chance to discover them. Originally published as a series of sketches for Punch, the stories in The Rabbits centre around a group of friends in the early twentieth century. Their life is largely carefree, being in a position where money doesn’t appear to be a worry. We see them at intervals throughout their young adulthood, often playing games, teasing each other, and generally having a good time. As the book progresses we see them begin to settle down, marry, have children, and move into their own homes. It is heartening to see their friendship continue throughout these major life events, always there to support each other, but always with a sense of fun and irreverence. 

The years covered are 1909 through to 1914. This is not historic fiction, Milne was publishing these short pieces in real time, and so as a modern reader we are very aware of the imminent disaster of war approaching in a way the characters are not. At one point a new mother mentions that her child will be a soldier. It is a harsh reminder to us what that would mean, how the next generation of young adults would have such a drastically different existence. 

Their lives are so very different to ours in many ways, and the book captures the lives of the upper middle class at a very particular moment in time, yet as we watch them grow together, the way they interact, the ease with which they tease each other, and their hopes for their own lives and those of their children, we see that there is so much that is familiar.

This is an incredibly easy book to read, even as someone who doesn’t read quickly I found the pages flying by. The episodic nature of the stories might be off-putting to some but many will revel in the snippets of life we’re privy to. It makes for a light, entertaining read, and you’re able to delve in to each section, feeling satisfied before returning to find out what japes the Rabbits have got up to next. 

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