Portmeirion

Portmeirion , a small coastal village in North Wales, is the brain child of architect Sir Clough Williams-Ellis. His desire was to create a village where the architecture and landscape were at one with each other, and he spent fifty years in the mid-twentieth century carefully crafting just such a place. On arrival it feels a little like you are in a life-sized model village, a somewhat surreal experience,  but I defy anyone not to be won over by the unique charm of it.  The Italianate stylings of the buildings and the bright colours are a contrast to what you might expect to find in Wales, and if you are lucky enough to visit on a sunny day it is not hard to imagine yourself transported to the Italian Riviera. The buildings were constructed at different times, and indeed some were merely transported from other towns, but Williams-Ellis ensured that the unity of the village was upheld. Wandering around Portmeirion you can see its designer all around you and feel a sense of contentment at the realization of his dream.

It is a tourist village with many taking advantage of the opportunity to stay in this tranquil haven, but day visitors are made welcome. Beyond the village centre there are beautiful coastal and woodland walks to enjoy. Visiting at the end of winter meant flowers were beginning to bud, creating a delightful contrast to the sparseness of many of the trees still bare from the winter.

Portmeirion is one of the most calming, peaceful places I’ve visited and I would quite happily have stayed much longer. Whether it would have been quite so pleasing on a darker day I do not know, but if you’re lucky with the weather this seems to me the perfect relaxation location.

Polar Bears, Mark Haddon

Polar Bears by Mark Haddon premiered at the Donmar Warehouse, London on 1^st April 2010 to underwhelming reviews. Sadly, it completely passed me by at the time but at least there is the option of reading the script, and what a read it is. The play starts with a confession of manslaughter and the narrative continues out of chronology to delve deeper into the psychologies of the characters.

The story centres around Kay, a sufferer of bi-polar disorder, and her sedate, some may say boring, philosopher partner John. She is not, however, the only character struggling. Her father committed suicide and neither her mother nor her brother Sandy, who discovered the body, have fully recovered from the trauma. There is a particularly disturbing scene in which Sandy and Kay are younger, with him forcing her to recite the suicide note with a noose around her neck. Their mother seems unable to move forward with her life and warns prospective partners off Kay, potentially a defensive strategy to protect against loneliness and maintain control of her offspring.

We see the pressures Kay has had to contend with that would have shaped her personality as well as getting a glimpse of the confusion and fear that her illness causes. The focus on the resultant relationships with those closest to her is interesting and complex. Her brother Sandy is unsympathetic to her suffering, seeing the illness as an excuse, a way of blaming others for her failings. John tries his best to understand and be patient, attempting to gain a clearer sense of what Kay is going through by talking with her incredibly unhelpful family who remain closed. His struggles with this continue throughout.

Many reviewers of the play have bemoaned the lack of relief from the dark, that the story is just too confronting. Personally, I devoured it with great eagerness - there are moments of humour within the intensity of the bulk of the play. The characters are well drawn and their development is cleverly constructed. It would be interesting to see the piece performed but for now reading more than suffices. I don’t usually read plays but was very glad I made the exception for this insightful work. 

Conwy Castle

The formidable Conwy castle dominates the skyline of this small Welsh town, the medieval walls, still largely intact, snaking around its border. The castle and walls were built in the same major feat of construction by Edward I during his conquest of Wales in the late thirteenth century.

There’s a remarkable amount of castle left considering the wars it has witnessed, being the site of several revolts between the thirteenth and fifteenth century, and continuing to be a stronghold in many conflicts beyond. It was damaged by the Parliamentarians after they took control in 1646 in the hopes that it would prevent use during future wars. Further damage was inflicted in 1665 when it was stripped for its valuable materials. With its eight towers and heavy defences it is clear the structure would have been an intimidating prospect for invaders. Most terrifying of all, for me at least, is the twelve-foot deep prison – a dungeon with no way out and no easy way down. Staring down into its dank darkness conjures images of the unfortunates who fell out of favour, flung down remorselessly to rot with the remains of previous inmates, a harrowing thought.

Thankfully, even disobedient modern visitors do not face such a fate, and can enjoy the atmosphere of this impressive piece of history. The views from the towers are worth the climb, although you may feel a little queasy if you’re not a fan of heights. The history of Conwy castle is palpable as you explore the ruins of this great fortress and is bound to ignite interest. Well worth a visit.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Shirley Jackson

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The opening of We Have Always Lived in the Castle is an exquisite piece of writing. It starts simply enough – we are introduced to the protagonist, Mary Katherine Blackwood, ‘Merricat’, and she is doing nothing more complex than going to the local shop. In her introduction however, she breezily passes on snippets of concerning information – her obsession with magic and knowledge of poisonous plants, and the fact that the majority of her family are dead. Although we have just been told she is eighteen, the games she plays in her head make her seem far more child-like, an unsettling juxtaposition with her more violent imaginings.

The trip to town is claustrophobic, her tension and discomfort palpable. It is so masterfully constructed that months later my stomach still knots with unease at the thought of it. Even at this early stage there are hints that although her family may not be popular, her anxiety may be a result of paranoid constructions of her mind rather than genuine ostracisation by neighbours. Certainly as the novel progresses we see how desperately she does not want others entering their home, upsetting the balance.

Home life for Merricat is certainly an unhealthy mix of anxiety and forced normality. Living with her sister Constance, accused and acquitted of the murder of the rest of their family, and their Uncle Julian, wheelchair bound as a result of the events that ended the lives of the others, they rarely leave the house and are almost entirely isolated from interaction with outsiders. The relationships are strange – Merricat’s desire to protect Constance from judgment is laced with a sense of wanting to control her, of not letting anyone separate them. Julian is obsessed with remembering what happened the night of the murders but talks about it almost in jest. He believes, however, that Merricat is dead and she is not allowed in his room, or to do many tasks around the house.

This seething bed of distrust and claustrophobia chips away at their mental states despite obvious attempts to continue as if all is well. When their cousin Charles arrives and becomes closer to Constance we see Merricat flailing in desperation as she tries to protect her family and the strange cocoon in which they live. Events culminate in a dramatic night and as the dust settles a distorted ‘happy ending’ is reached.

The novel is dark and mysterious, creating an atmosphere that is deeply unsettling. There is an element of magic with Merricat’s attempts to ward off evil and her interactions with her cat Jonas, who is reminiscent of a witch’s familiar. After such an intense, psychologically interesting read I found the final section somewhat lacking. Nonetheless, this is definitely one to read for fans of the Gothic, psychology, mystery, horror, indeed, anyone who enjoys good quality reading.

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Grace and Mary, Melvin Bragg

Bragg’s Grace and Mary is a touching portrayal of a son desperately holding on to his mother as Alzheimer’s takes away her memories and sense of self. The ageing John makes the long drive from London to Cumbria as regularly as he can but always with a sense of guilt that he is not there more often. His visits are clearly painful to him as he ponders the impact of the loss of personal history. His love for his mother, however, is unceasingly apparent as he attempts to recreate her memories of the past.

In her distress Mary calls out for Grace, her mother. Initially this feels a statement of longing for parental comfort that never leaves us, a desire for the innocence of times past. As the novel progresses, however, and the story of Grace is revealed to us by John, we come to realise that perhaps it is a distress at a life unlived, now forever out of reach.

Grace’s story is a sad one from the moment of her birth, her mother not surviving the ordeal. She grows in to a beautiful, intelligent, strong-willed young woman but is faced with numerous tragedies. The past is clearly evoked in the descriptions of her experiences and the frustrations of a judgemental society. John’s narrative is so detailed, so evocative, that the reader forgets that we have an unreliable narrator. He is reconstructing the past from tales his mother told him, fabricating where necessary.

He questions Mary, attempting to nudge her memories, to bring her back to herself. At some moments he is successful, at others he pushes too hard. Although clearly painful for him, when asked about his father, deceased over a decade previous, he constructs an account of his day as though he were no further than down the road, at their home. John delights in the effect this has on his mother and allows himself to indulge in the fantasy.

A touching novel that deals with very real issues. The distress of coping with losing a loved one to Alzheimers is accompanied by the pressing struggle of an ageing society to support its elders. John’s grief and guilt are very relatable and the palpable love he has for his mother makes this an emotional read.

The Crime Museum Uncovered, Museum of London

The Metropolitan Police crime museum was founded in the mid-1870s, the objects coming mainly from unclaimed items at the Prisoners’ Property Store. Until now it has not been open to the general public. Predominantly for the training of new officers, the visitors’ book reveals journalists and writers such as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle have also mined its treasures. Bizarrely so have a previous Australian cricket team.

The first few rooms set the tone of the exhibition – death masks surround the room, nooses line one wall. Prepare yourself for a dark exhibition. The rooms will likely be bustling with other visitors. The museum seems to have pre-empted its popularity and have created a guide for the first few rooms, making it unnecessary to have lengthy labels next to the objects. Unfortunately, this fails to keep the traffic moving as people try and work out what text relates to the item, or for those who didn’t pick up a guide confusion ensues.

The penultimate room, largest of them all, has a long series of tales recounting murders through the decades and the innovations in policing that led to their resolution. Personally, I found it a bit much reading one after another of these grisly tales. ‘Light’ relief comes in the form of cabinets of murder weapons, both obvious and disguised and a discussion of police procedure, including identification techniques – earprints as opposed fingerprints was a new one to me! There is also consideration of how crime itself has changed, how the major threat is now terrorism, and how policing must continue to push forward if it is to stand a chance against the constant evolution of crime.

Feeling thoroughly depressed and wondering why it is that people are so fascinated by crime, the final room’s discussion of just such a question was timely. A curator from the museum argues that just because it is uncomfortable doesn’t mean it should be forgotten. Professor Leif Wenar claims the fascination goes beyond mere desire for high drama but that it sets out the rules we all have to live by. The final video was valuable in setting the exhibition and its importance in a wider context.

An interesting exhibition, albeit not one for the faint of heart. The focus is very much on murder and you’ll likely leave in gloomier spirits than you arrived in. Worth a visit for those interested in criminal history – seeing murder weapons up close is a disturbing and powerful experience.

The Crime Museum Uncovered runs at the Museum of London until 10^th April 2016. Advanced booking is recommended.  

War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

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Tolstoy’s epic has a huge array of characters and deals with a vast span of human experience and psychology. Set against the backdrop of the Napoleonic Wars he focuses in on the lives of Russians both away from the battlefield and in the throes of the action. The host of characters may be numerous but we get to know some more intimately, seeing Natasha, for example, grow from childhood to mature woman with all the heartache and pleasure along the way. Even the more minor characters are relatable, revealing a different facet of human experience.

The writing style is easy to read and there are some quite wonderful descriptive sections – comparing war-torn Moscow to a beehive without its queen is one passage whose imagery certainly stuck with me. Tolstoy seems also to have a talent at writing character, making experiences that can be alien to the reader about more than the mere moment they are in but rather an examination of universal feelings and concerns.

He does have a tendency toward slight tangents – his disdain for Napoleon apparent. He also displays strong feelings on the methods and value of historians. For the most part these are short passages that don’t detract from the readability of the novel. Indeed, these brief treatises on history, philosophy, and war are interesting and thought provoking, adding depth to the overall experience. The epilogue feels a little messy due to the large chunks of these type of ponderings mixed with brief encounters with the characters, allowing us to see how they have developed over the years. I don’t question the value of his ideas, merely that they may have been better placed elsewhere.

One is left with the feeling that they have had an encounter with the whole of humanity on reaching the end of this well respected novel. All of life is contained within its pages, full of the imperfections of the protagonists, the momentous occasions and the everyday. It covers the nature of relationships both familial and marital and touches on debates that have yet to be resolved. Well worth the time commitment to read, no adaptation can ever express all the treasures contained within.

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