Review - Jilly Cooper - Jump! - Contains some spoilers.

When I read that there was a new Jilly Cooper book due out, I was - excited would be too much, but interested definitely. Despite being disappointed with her last couple of books, I had hoped that this book would see a return to the JC of Rivals and Riders.

The first book that I read of the Rutshire series was Rivals which I read when I was about 16 years old. Jilly Cooper wrote books that were different, more adult than the books I had been reading until then. There were racy scenes that made me hide in my bedroom, embarrassed to be seen by my Dad while reading and there were funny scenes that made me laugh out loud, long before anyone had thought up the abbreviation LOL.

Not being able to wait for a hardback copy to wing its way to me, I promptly downloaded Jump! onto my Kindle. First thought was that I dislike books with an explanation mark in the title. Call me fussy, but it always reminds me of people who write, "I am a crazy girl, lol!!" on their Facebook page. Jump! just seems to be trying too hard.

Second disappointment was the map of the area in which Jump! is set. The print was too small and it was very difficult to read. Not a problem in the hardback book, I am sure but not good on the Kindle. The following list of characters almost made me switch the Kindle off. Jilly is known for her long list of characters with funny nicknames but Jump! takes this to a whole new level. There were so many characters that I was sure that I would not be able to remember who was who.

Reading a hard back, this would have been less of a problem but flicking back and forward on the Kindle is a pain. As I started to read, I could see that I would be doing this often. There are just too many people in this book and many of them are not needed for the plot.

The plot. Well, doormat wife Etta Bancroft (think Kitty from The Man Who Made Husband Jealous, 30 years on, but prettier) is widowed when her domineering and controlling husband dies. Her money-grasping children sell the house from under her feet and set her up in a horrible small cottage near their homes so as to abuse her loyalty by making her care for their children. Doormat Etta finds a seriously maltreated horse near to her home, nurses the horse, Mrs Wilkinson, back to life - in the home of a local MrBig, Valent Edwards, a widower in his 60s. When Mrs Wilkinson shows promise as a race horse, a syndicate of friends and neighbours raise the money to pay for training and racing of the horse.

There follows a tale of ambitious jockeys and horse owners. Jilly's most popular hero, Rupert Campbell-Black puts in an appearance with his delectable wife, Taggie. Billy Llyod-Foxe's daughter Amber is drafted in as a jockey, Dora Belevedere is introduced at the beginning of the book but seems to be forgotten about half way though. 

Etta's granddaughter Trixie was in one scene that made me put the book down in disgust. Trixie was a not quite 16 year old girl, who was lured unwillingly into a foursome. When I write unwilling, I mean unwilling, not giving consent. For me this is abuse, pure and simple, and it was portrayed as normal people who were having a bit of a romp that went too far. Even when Trixie eventually confided in Amber, she was not told that she should report the abuse, the rape. Is it any wonder that the rape conviction rate is so low in UK if this is how popular culture views sexual abuse?

If the above scene had not been included, then I might have overlooked the cast of hundreds, the cliched story line, the fact that JC is overly reliant on spiky adolescent girls with a wicked sense of humour - I cannot even tell them apart anymore - Amber, Trixie, Dora, Caitlin, Perdita... all very much of a sameness. I read to the end, but without much enthusiasm.

The book reads like it has been assembled from cuttings from previous books. As much as I loved Rivals and Riders, I have read them and I want to read something new from Jilly Cooper. Not just a cobbled together bunch of cliches and worn out characters. The heroine was such a wet dishcloth, the spunky girls bored me, the death of a well-loved character was a bit rushed - there was more attention paid to the horses who died. All in all, a disappointment.

Jump? By then end of the book, I would have preferred to Throw! it away.

Black and White vs Colour - which do you prefer?

The beauty of digital photography is what you can do after the shot is taken.

While I am not a fan of Photoshop I do sometimes dabble with it to see what a photo would look like in black and white.

Without the distraction of colour, the eye is drawn to light and shadow, to details that might not show themselves otherwise.

I thought it would be interesting to put these two shots together to see the direct comparison. I printed this shot in black and white, and framed it for the exhibition.

If it does not sell then there is a spot in the dining room waiting for it to come home.

My first Writers' Workshop Experience

As I mentioned yesterday, I have recently signed up for a Writers' Workshop. Today was the first day that I could attend.

When I arrived I could smell the coffee and sense the anticipation as the women mingled. New to the whole thing, I had only brought one copy of my short story on the theme Rite of Passage, so I rushed off to copy it for everyone. Refreshed by the coffee, we began.

First one to read was a woman who wrote about motherhood being a Rite of Passage. Her work was constructively criticised with the emphasis on the constructive. The pieces were varied - from birth to first boyfriend, teenage disappointment, engagement and marriage, even bereavement. I was struck by the different writing styles and voices. One story moved me to tears, which since I am a soppy big girls blouse, is not really that difficult.

The criticism was gentle and extremely helpful. We were encouraged to pencil notes onto our copies and afterwards return the copy to the writer, with our opinion of the story. It is rather nerve wracking to do this, particularly when one is sitting opposite the writer.

By the time it was my turn, I was a bit nervous and stumbled over my first paragraphs. Note to self: do not include words which you are unsure how to pronounce. Chai latte tripped me up twice. Is it Tschai?

The comments were thankfully positive, although one woman queried if a school girl would drink Chai Latte and eat low fat muffins - she certainly might in Geneva. At least my protagonist did not carry a Hermes Birkin bag, like the schoolgirl I saw last week on the Rue de Rhône.

One suggestion that I am going to try to put into practice is to avoid the adjectives lovely, beautiful, amazing, stunning... and the like.  For instance, instead of "the beautiful street" use "the cobbled street", instead of "the amazing mountains" use "the snow-capped mountains". More descriptive and visual than a general "lovely".

Another way of avoiding these general adjectives is to use stronger verbs. "walking quickly" can easily be replaced by "strode" or "rushed".

As a writer who over-uses the word "lovely", I shall try to put this into practice. You are hereby given permission to slap me with a cold wet fish if I use the word "lovely" again.

Rite of Passage - A Short Story

I have written a short story for the writer's workshop tomorrow.

The theme this month is "Rite of Passage".

Ella looked around the table at the familiar faces, suddenly aware that it would be the last time that they would all sit together. Sure, they would meet again when everyone was home for the holidays but the days of lounging for hours, lingering over chai lattes, sharing a low fat muffin, while discussing school work, these days were almost over. So many hours had been spent here in Starbucks, and soon she would be drinking her chai latte alone, at least until she had made some friends. An outgoing girl, she was hopeful that she would find friends soon after her arrival in London. Until now she had been looking forward to going, but the day of departure was close now and she worried about how she would cope. 

Just two days later she was on a plane, her first flight alone. She felt anxious but tried not to show it, acting blasé, as if she flew alone on a weekly basis. Accepting the offer of tea from the flight attendant she flicked nervously through the in-flight magazine, not seeing the words in front of her. Instead she visualised her home, imagined her mother coming home from the airport, greeting the dog, putting the kettle on. Yes, Mum would have tea and treat herself to a chocolate biscuit. Blinking back tears at the thought of her mother cuddling their dog for comfort, she looked out of the window. Grey. Grey. Grey. Descending from the clouds she saw London appear below her through the drizzle.

Once inside the airport building, she followed the other passengers blindly, going through passport control and then down snaking corridors to find her luggage. Dragging two cases she headed for the exit, hoping that her mother’s friend was there. Emerging from behind the smoked glass doors, she was disorientated by the noise and the confusion of Heathrow Airport. People everywhere, shouting, waving, laughing as they caught their loved ones to them and held them tight. Slightly frantic she searched the crowd for Aunt Elisabeth, sighing in relief as she spotted the distinctive red haired woman. Aunt Elisabeth enfolded her in a warm and fragrant hug. At once, Ella was reminded of the holidays that they had spent together in France, her mother and Ella sitting until the wee hours of the morning laughing and talking. Swept by a wave of homesickness she clung to Aunt Elisabeth and struggled not to cry. 

Aunt Elisabeth swept Ella into the car, chattering all the time. As they crept their way up the slip road to the M25 Ella began to feel better. By the time they had reached the University grounds, the sun was peeping through the clouds, warming the red brick facade. Standing outside the Halls of Residence, Ella lifted her chin, straightened her spine and took a confident step forward.

Photo Exhibition Vernissage

Today is the big day. The Vernissage of the Photo Exhibition, and the first time that I have shown anyone other than family and friends my photos. Well, aside from various Internet Sprites who have looked at my blog.

What a difference it makes seeing the photos framed properly, with a passpartout. I will take some photos tonight, but here is a sneak preview.