Charlotte Brontë: a life (book review)

Published in the US as Charlotte Brontë: a fiery heart, this new biography by English writer Claire Harman surpassed all my expectations.

I've long possessed a keen interest in the Brontë sisters, not merely because of the unusual books they endowed to posterity. As a group of writers their ability to decipher human emotions and psychology is astonishingly acute for women whose lives offered very little in the way of human society. How did they grow into this and what influenced them? I was keen to find out and excited about reading this new book. 

Claire Harman has delved deeply into the entire Brontë catalogue of research, particularly the hundreds of surviving letters that passed between Charlotte Brontë and her closest friends. She spent hours at the Brontë Parsonage Museum in Haworth, immersing herself as much as possible in the world of the Brontës, their home as well as the drearily beautiful surroundings of the rugged moor and the "strange uncivilized little place" in which they spent most of their short lives.

Charlotte Brontë and her sisters existed in a world --an entire culture of dependence-- that is almost completely forgotten in today's Western society. The reliance of women on the benevolence of their fathers and brothers was absolute, unless they were able to receive an education or marry. Fortunately for Charlotte, Emily, and Anne, their father was a Church of England vicar who was unusually well educated for a man who had been born into poverty in Ireland.  He made his way to England and never looked back, possessing a will to forge ahead and compartmentalise. This indomitable will kept him going through his wife's early death, pushed him to educate his children himself away from the "uncivilized" world of Haworth, and probably influenced his elderly manipulation of his surviving daughter Charlotte.

The pre-Jane Eyre part of Charlotte’s life makes for a dark preface to her future success. After being cocooned in a home environment that was marked by the oddly detailed creation of imaginary worlds with her siblings, she goes to Brussels with her sister Emily to round out her education. Experiences incurred here influence her writing for the rest of her life.

Upon her return home from Brussels, she and her sisters Anne and Emily embark on an almost feverishly intense quest to publish their writing. Here Jane Eyre comes into being, written in a fury. The three sisters finally publish their first books under gender-neutral aliases: Acton, Currer, and Elliot Bell.

One of my favourite scenes in this book is the one in which Charlotte reveals her true identity to her London publisher, Mr Smith. Chased by rumours that "all those Bells" were actually one and the same author, Anne and Charlotte set out to disprove the gossip by visiting London in person to prove their identity.  Wisely, Harman allows Charlotte to relate the story herself through a letter to a friend. After she tells Mr Smith she is Currer Bell, handing him a letter from himself to confirm it, he "looked at it-- then at me--again--yet again-- I laughed at his queer perplexity-- A recognition took place--. I gave my real name--Miss Brontë..."

What would pass for a cute "mistaken identity" anecdote in today's society was a profound shocker in early Victorian England.  What a triumph for these Brontë women who were so ahead of their time!

Any of us who have some familiarity with the Brontë saga are aware that their era was plagued by high mortality, caused by disease, lack of access to clean water, and poor nutrition. Anne, Emily, and Charlotte endured the sorrow of losing their mother when they were small children, and less than a year later their eldest two sisters died in short succession after virulent attacks of tuberculosis. Their one surviving sibling, Branwell, wrote brilliant poetry and attempted portrait painting but could not control his addiction to opium and alcohol. He died not long after his sisters' initial writing successes. Within months of his death Emily and Anne both died of tuberculosis, leaving Charlotte to care for her elderly father.

Claire Harman writes carefully and honestly about this time in Charlotte's life, adroitly avoiding a sense of melodrama that has pervaded other accounts of the Brontë family. The grief that controlled Charlotte's existence and the immutability of her beloved sisters' deaths is obvious without being overdone. Charlotte also had to endure critics who did not recognise her sisters' genius, in a total misunderstanding of the nature of their novels. In her newfound status as a bestselling author, she wrote biographical prefaces to new editions of Emily's Wuthering Heights and Anne's Agnes Grey in the hope that they would not be forgotten.

For Charlotte the next four years were marked by constant writing, most notably a rewrite of her first novel, The Professor (published posthumously) and her usual personal correspondence with friends. Shirley, published right after Anne's death, did not possess the brilliance of Charlotte's first novels. She was clearly feeling a profound sense of loss. I find this a telling clue that Charlotte's own creativity was fed and fanned into flame by the close proximity of her sisters, their ideas and intensity. I wonder what different novels we might be reading today if not for the fact that their writing burst from a creative bubble that collectively enveloped the three of them. 

In the final year of Charlotte's life, she married her father's curate after an intense period of emotional manipulation by her father, who preferred that she take care of him rather than marry. The marriage was finally agreed to under the condition that the newly married couple live with him in Haworth.  Just months after Charlotte's marriage, she died abruptly of what Claire Harman surmises was "hyperemesis gravidarum" --an unusual condition of pregnancy that causes the sufferer intense sickness: in the 1850's, virtually a death sentence.

As in the case of Jane Austen, I've always wondered: what would Charlotte have written had she lived into old age?  

"Of all the subjects I have written about, hers is the most unquiet ghost," Claire Harman says of Charlotte Brontë. 

And as much as I enjoyed this biography, indeed, I finish reading it with a sense of "unquiet".

Charlotte Brontë: a fiery heart —@ Barnes & Noble.com

Charlotte Brontë: a life — @ Waterstones.com


Related post: read my review of 2011 Jane Eyre film. 

Rue Royale: Remedies Ahead... a review

I posted over at Common Folk Music today: a review of Rue Royale's third album, Remedies Ahead.

When I first heard the music of indie band Rue Royale back in 2007, they’d just released their first EP, The Search For Where To Go, which wasn’t an album you could dismiss in a hurry.  Their profound lyrics and spare acoustic sound were a perfect stage for displaying the unusually striking compatibility of their voices and harmonies.

In August, I interviewed Rue Royale’s husband-wife team, Brookln and Ruth Dekker, in anticipation of their September release, third album Remedies Ahead, recorded with the financial help of Kickstarter and a legion of followers.

When the thin white parcel containing our handmade CD dropped through the postbox onto the doormat a few weeks ago, we were just about to leave for a week’s holiday.  In spite of the packing and sorting and excited children and all manner of other craziness going on, I immediately put on Remedies Ahead. And again, and again: through icing two huge chocolate fudge cakes, ticking jobs off my to-do list, and making dinner for yet more people.

Remedies Ahead is just the sort of album that you want to keep listening to over and over.  The melodies are entrancing, with a hint of American West Coast trance-folk-pop finesse.  Beguiling harmonies possess just the right blend of lyrical loveliness and musical perfection.  Rue Royale have matured beautifully; their earlier unadorned sound is gone, but the gorgeous simplicity of gentle beats and harmonies remains, augmented by co-producer Paul Pilot’s electronic influences.  This is a musically strong collection of contradictorily fragile songs, exploring themes of change and dark days in relationships and life, ultimately ending with an upbeat forward-facing decisiveness.

Whispery vocals immediately pull the listener in as the album begins with “Changed My Grip”, an originally folky song that Rue Royale have played live for a while but now recorded with new sounds.  Other stand-outs on the album are first single “Set Out To Discover”, short and sweet love song “Carving Up Islands”, and the lyrically fascinating “Tiny Parcels”: “What if I could gather all the souls in the world, Leave them wrapped like tiny parcels outside your door, Would you let me see the inside of your house…”

One of my favourite tracks is “Pull Me Like a String”, with its gripping refrain “You pull me like a string, you pull me right in two, you put me out to the darkness and pull me back to you, You pull me like a string, you pull me right in two, You cause me to go blind yet I still look for you” describing a figurative dance of emotions that is echoed in the swing of the music and the relentless beat.  Another is “Brought Up Somewhere Else”, with its sense of geographical displacement: “Ancient are these rolling hills, Aged brought up somewhere else”.  I could personally identify with this one, having lived in the UK now for thirteen years as an expat American, similar to Brookln.  I also liked the rhythmic catchiness of honest anthem “Try As They Might”, with it’s memorably repeated line “Try as they might, they cannot get me down”.

“Dark Cloud Canopies”, “Almost Ghostly”, and “Shouldn’t Have Closed My Eyes” are melancholic explorations of feelings and relationships.  “Settle In Settle Down” considers the uncertainty within decisions we have to make as we walk towards the future: “I know it well the feeling, that we’re both circling around, I know the roads that we’re found on are often paved with doubt”.

“Every Little Step” is Remedies Ahead‘s perfect ending: “Working on getting my mind around this road ahead, Can’t go back can’t go backwards”.  This determination to push on in spite of the darkness is what characterises this ultimately positive album.

Interview -- Eliza Carthy

We saw Eliza Carthy last week on her Wayward Daughter tour with Jim Moray and the Wayward Band at the MAC in Birmingham, where I interviewed her for Common Folk Music.  Read the full interview here.

Eliza Carthy‘s history is like a colourful mural, painted with a wealth of experience over twenty-one years of touring and detailed with an impressive discography. I attended a gig recently at the MAC in Birmingham [UK] starring this favourite daughter of English folk-dom and her current collaborators Jim Moray and the Wayward Band, and had a chance to catch up with her in person. I found her down-to-earth, real, quite the English northerner, with an ability to interpret folk music using an alternative, out-of-the box approach. That’s her… and suddenly the title of her biography and compilation album makes so much sense.  We talked about her music-steeped history, the state of English folk music, and how she balances her busy life as a mother and musician.

Your parents were musical pioneers here in the UK during the 1960’s folk revival.  Do you have any favourite memories from your early years in connection with the musical environment you were brought up in?  

Well, yes I do.  Aside from being brought up on the UK festival and folk music scene, falling asleep under folk club tables and things like that, I’m very emotionally connected to the Sidmouth and Whitby folk festivals…  I have lots and lots of good memories.  I remember Jody Stecher coming to stay at our house as a child, when he was touring the UK with Krishna Bhatt, and with his wife as well, and I’ve spent many happy hours at their house in California.  Once we had a lovely Cajun family come to stay with us, and they cooked jambalaya in the back garden; it was absolutely amazing! I have some very good memories of the American folk scene.  I grew up going around with my parents [Martin Carthy and Norma Waterson] when I was a teenager and that included (when I got a bit older) doing their American tours as well, playing the Iron Horse, and the Ashokan folk camp, Davis and Elkins College in West Virginia, places like that.  On the English folk scene, growing up in a musical family, I knew a lot of traditional singers; not just performers, but people who had learned music from their families, like the Copper Family, Walter Pardon, people like that, so… I feel I’ve had a very rich musical life.

Was there ever a period where you thought “This is what I’m going to do”, or did it just happen?

I did think that I probably would end up doing this. I think it was a bit more “Barbie pop star” in my head, but [laughs]… I pretty much saw myself doing this kind of thing.  Bob Dylan was a big hero of mine when I was a kid, troubadour songwriters, you know; I saw myself there with my baby on my back… that sort of thing.  A nice thought, but not very practical!

Where did the title of Wayward Daughter come from?

It came from the biography that was written last year, so I guess it was Sophie Parkes’ idea.  Originally, the album was supposed to be released in conjunction with the biography but we had some delays so it came out about six months later.

Do you ever feel that people are trying to stereotype you as a particular type of artist?

Not that people are trying to, but… I think that people encounter you at one or another stage in your life or in their lives, and you will always be that thing to them. So in some ways I was at my most successful when I first started because my second album [Red Rice] got the Mercury prize and it sold close to 70,000 copies, so… a lot of people see me as a tinkerer, as somebody who likes to try folk music with beat.  It’s part of what I do but I’m also a songwriter, and there are lots of strings to my bow these days.  I do perform in these big “bells and whistles” bands, but I also perform solo, and with my father, and still with my family regularly as well.

Your roots are steeped in English folk heritage and I really admire the way you’ve started with these traditional English songs and just taken them somewhere else, often incorporating other cultures (like with Imagined Village) and other collaborations you’ve been part of.  Do you feel like you’re on a mission to keep these old songs alive or do you just sing them because you enjoy them, or is it a mix of the two?

I think it’s a bit of a mix of the two, really. I can relax a little bit now, but certainly when I started [aged 16] English folk music was a lot less well known than it is now. We have this incredibly rich scene of young performers now playing English folk music in various different kinds of ways. We have bands that get into the charts, and we have festivals full of people playing English folk music.  In 1995 it was not like that at all, so I did feel the need to wave my own particular flag.  Celtic music was very popular in the 90’s and I felt like it was swamping any interest in our own music.  I knew so many people who played Celtic music and didn’t know that English folk music existed.  There was a huge Cajun scene here as well in the 90s and they were playing the blues, and they were playing old-timey music, and nobody was playing English folk music. I really felt that English musicians needed to pay attention to their own culture before they started having a go on other people’s!

Definitely.  I know when I first moved over here, I thought traditional English music was “Riverdance”!  I’ve learned a lot since then.

Yeah, well, and you know, whilst I adore The Lord of the Rings –I do adore The Lord of the Rings—  Tolkien wrote The Lord of the Rings as an English saga; he didn’t write it to be full of Irish pipes or indeed Finnish music, this sort of wifty wafty Celtic music everywhere.  These were things that were written specifically for the English, you know, and it does grate. I want people to know that there are historically accurate and also exciting versions of our own stuff that’s out there. Filmmakers need to make exciting and “out there” choices, you know; there’s only so many times you can hear the modern Irish pipes in a medieval Scottish movie!

Are there any out-of-character cover versions that you’d like to do, that you haven’t done yet? 

Out-of-character cover versions would have to be something like “She Moves Through the Fair” for me –something I would never do!– or “Loch Lomond” or “Danny Boy”; I don’t know!  They’re good songs in their own way, but…! Me and the girls –the fiddle band I play with [Carthy, Hardy, Farrell, & Young]– we’ve been thinking about doing an album of Julie Andrews covers.  I have two children now, two little girls, so I watch Mary Poppins a lot!

You seem to have an ability to tie together the past and the future, creating this music that has the potential to be appreciated for many years to come.  How do you feel about the expectations on you?  Do you think people have expectations about you being “the future of folk music”? 

No, not anymore.  I’ve been around too long now.  People think I’m part of the woodwork; I’m at that stage now!

Have you thought about touring further afield?

I have.  We’re touring the States at the Easter break next year: myself and Saul Rose and our regular guitarist Dave Delarre.  We’ll be promoting Wayward Daughter. Oh, and then I’m going to New Zealand with my dad [Martin Carthy] in October. I’m all about Europe at the moment.  I’m trying to get into Europe because there’s this huge folk music scene there and they have no idea that English music exists.  That’s my little bugbear at the moment, trying to let the Europeans know that we’re here.

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I get the impression that you’re involved in a lot more than touring and recording.  What are you doing closer to home?

Well, I have my two little girls now, so I’m doing that; but the next big thing, aside from recording and touring, is that I’ve taken the position of associate artist at the Sage Gateshead for the next two years.  I’ll be curating different shows, putting stuff on, interesting collaborations, also working with the Sunderland jazz degree course, and the Newcastle traditional music degree course as well.  I’ve got some ideas for projects involving traditional English percussion and dance, so I’m going to be busy. It’s going to be good fun!

How do you find a balance with all your busy-ness? 

I just treat it day-to-day, to be honest.  I try to give my children as much time as I can.  Since their father and I broke up, they tend to go with him now when I work. And it’s hard, because I miss them, but no other mother of toddlers gets the kind of sleep that I get sometimes and I feel very grateful!  It was harder last year when we were breaking up and everything was up in the air, but I think we’ve found a nice balance now; things are really settling for them and they both seem really happy. My eldest is starting school in September, and she’s really excited about that. I’m so proud of her.

Last question… Are you one of those strictly-strong-tea-swilling Northerners or do you sneak in the occasional cup of coffee while deep in late-night writing sessions?

No… I only have a cup of tea with my breakfast!  I don’t drink tea all day.  I have coffee in the afternoons and then usually, gin in the evenings. Or wine, or rum.  I’m quite fond of rum.

An Introduction: Penny & Sparrow

I posted at Common Folk Music today: An Introduction: Penny & Sparrow.

Alela Diane: Beyond Farewell... a review

I wrote a review of Alela Diane's latest album, About Farewell, for Common Folk Music. Don't miss hearing this beautiful album; it's set to be one of my top favourites this year.   

                   

Alela Diane’s first album, The Pirate’s Gospel, captivated me from the beginning, with “Tired Feet”, right to the final notes of “Oh! Mama!”  Her gently strummed guitar and soothing voice were a welcome accompaniment to both busy mornings at home and long car journeys in the rain through the Welsh countryside. Her second offering, To Be Still, uniquely captured an essence of “home” for me.  Something about the imagery, the descriptions, the stories reminded me of my roots in a way that no music has for a long, long time. Maybe it was her high-cheekboned pioneer woman face peering from the album cover through blurred, shining lace.  I think that by the time her third release [Alela Diane & Wild Divine] arrived on the scene, I was so stuck on the first two that it made little impression on me.  I’m not brilliant at moving on quickly from instantly-loved favourites.  Sometimes I listen to particular albums for years before truly “discovering” them.  

But it’s this fourth recording from the Portland, Oregon-based singer that I’ve been waiting for.  About Farewell was definitely worth the wait, more than I ever could have imagined.  It played all morning as I was deep in a long candle-making session. As I worked, amidst the mild distraction of creating candles, I fell in love with About Farewell.

Diane’s voice has strengthened noticeably.  Her range has always been remarkable but on this album it’s obvious that she’s more than capable of everything she attempts.  Her wisely scant instrumentation allows her clear, beautiful voice to shine out and draw attention to her repetitive, honest lyrics.  It’s rare to find an album like this, with every single song possessing a powerful emotional punch that pulls you in right away.  She has returned to the delicate acoustic sound she does so well, with a newer, deeper maturity.  She pens all her own lyrics, which have evolved from the sweet story-telling of The Pirate’s Gospel into personal poetry that makes you feel as if she’s telling you all about herself.

“Colorado Blue” wistfully recalls a doomed relationship, gently introducing the album’s theme of lost love.  Next is “About Farewell”, in my opinion a true classic, with a chorus that I just can’t get out of my head:  “I heard somebody say that the brightest lights cast the biggest shadows, so honey, I’ve got to let you go…”   “The Way We Fall” follows hard on the title track’s heels, with Diane’s signature softly strummed guitar and the repetitive lyrical phrases that she does so well:  “I didn’t know it was the last time, we never know when it’s the last time, I didn’t know it was the last time…”  

We begin to understand the darker intricacy of the relationship she’s mourning after hearing “Nothing I Can Do”.  “Lost Land” is the most subtle song on the album, as she questions herself and finally declares: “I’m a lost land in the blue.”  “I Thought I Knew” seems to be a further exposition of the deep fissures within this dying relationship.  “I called you up and drew you in, I thought I knew you, but I was wrong… I’d only just arrived when I foresaw the end.”  “Before the Leaving” tells of her touring lifestyle, with constant references to the storm of the impending break-up, returning home with the final poignancy of the line: “Now there is wood that you stacked, and it’s on our front porch; it’s staring me down, and it tells me you left.”  “Hazel Street” and “Black Sheep” are slow story ballads, while “Rose & Thorn” ties up the strings of this heartbreak with regretful lyrics like “O, the mess I’ve made, a crimson rose, a hundred thorns”.

Diane split with her husband last year and it seems as if writing this album was some kind of cathartic release for her, helping her walk through saying goodbye in the midst of what appears to have been an incredibly painful break-up. After listening to About Farewell, it sounds as if she’s also working through other damaging relationships in her life. She does it so well.  About Farewell is wonderfully melancholic, but not depressive. It is beautifully sad, but not hopeless. There is a timeless, elegant feel to the entire album, hinting that Alela Diane will someday deserve a place in the golden circle of iconic singer-songwriters.  In my opinion, she already does.

Ten Strings and a Goat Skin: Corbeau... a review

I wrote a review of Canadian band Ten Strings and a Goat Skin's new album, Corbeau. Read it here at Common Folk Music.

I’ve just finished listening to Corbeau for the second time and have repeatedly found myself unconsciously toe-tapping along to the music. These guys can play! Calling themselves a “bilingual traditional music trio”, they hail from Prince Edward Island. I’ll be dreadfully honest here and say I was initially interested in them merely because they were from Anne of Green Gables land.

I really can’t remember the last time I heard of a three-piece band, stomping out cèilidh melodies and occasionally singing along, from Prince Edward Island.  Actually, I’m not sure if I’ve ever heard of a band from Prince Edward Island.  I haven’t a single word to say in my defence, either, except that my knowledge of P.E.I. is rather narrowly confined to the Edwardian era of L.M. Montgomery’s novels!   Thinking about this Canadian island’s historical connection to settlers from Scotland and Ireland, it makes sense that their influences clearly sound Celtic. They self-released Corbeau last month, an epitome of toe-tapping wonder.  The entire album makes you want to get up and dance, full of good cheer.  My four-year-old daughter subconsciously gave in to the music and went to fetch her ballet shoes as Corbeauplayed in the background.

Corbeau has a perfect balance of music and vocals: enough lyrical interest to keep the album from morphing into a full-on cèilidh, and wordless silence during instrumental tunes when the music speaks alone.  Band members Jesse Pèriard [guitar and banjo], Caleb Gallant [cajon, bodhrán, djembe], and Rowen Gallant [violin, mandolin, and bazouki] blend traditional music with their own compositions.

“Huginn and Muninn” kicks off the album.  It’s an uplifting, fiddle-led, tradition-fed tune.  Sufficiently joyous, we move on to “The Grey Funnel Line”, driven by an energetically percussive guitar. “The Night They Moved the House” is a classic story-ballad, ending with a hand-clapping, catchy chorus.  “Kick the Crow” brings a minor note into the mix, but is none the less spirited, with impressive fiddle-work from the band’s violinist, Rowen Gallant.  Introducing a more sedate –or inebriated– note into the mix is a rendition of an old Cajun drinking ballad, “Parlez-Nous À Boire”, loosely translated “Let’s talk about drinking”.  The slower thread continues with “The Uniform”, a regretful goodbye from a soldier dying far from home.  Next is an instant pick-me-up, an integrated trio of fiddling tunes: “Napoleon’s: The Drunken Police Car/The Box Reels 2/Music for a Found Harmonium”.  I love the wistfulness of “Farewell to Uik”, which follows, along with more dancing music: “The Liffey Reels” and “The Byzantine Reels: Fir Bolg/Tastes Like Grapes”.  At this point, the album appears to be finishing on a gentle note with the sweet French “Vive la Rose”. Instead, a splendidly robust version of “Bully in the Alley” blasts out right after, bringing everything to a close with just the right amount of fun.

FUN is the operative word here, I think!  Ten Strings and a Goat Skin are clearly having a great time with their music as they blaze their island trail.  Corbeau is sufficiently promising for such a young band and I’m looking forward to seeing where their musical path takes them.   It’s sure to go beyond the borders of their native P.E.I.

Trees Tall as Mountains... a book review

I reviewed Rachel Devenish Ford's first published fictional work, The Eve Tree, here over two years ago.  As much as I enjoyed her novel, I have loved --really loved-- reading this compilation of blog posts, Trees Tall as Mountains, from her early years of blogging. She was one of the first bloggers I read regularly, and I've read all these posts before, but reading them in a real book is so much more poignant, somehow.

She is gifted at sifting through the mundane routine of daily life, finding the gold, and transforming it into beautifully alive stories for her readers.  We are there in the room with her as she sits on the floor playing with her children, as she blogs late at night trying not to think about the possible seriousness of a medical condition, as her children go crazy on a trip to the doctor's office, as she navigates through grocery shopping and losing car keys, as she wades through the darkness of power outages on the remote property where she lives with her family and friends.

Her adventures are everyday but also extraordinary. She discovers wild beauty in the river rushing past her home in the green wilderness of Humboldt County,  Northern California. She cleans her house and potty-trains. She counsels young people searching for home and a way out of their destructive lifestyles. She and her children survive a car accident that could have been worse than it was. She flies to Burkina Faso for ten days without knowing she is pregnant, after having lost her previous baby to an ectopic pregnancy.  She and her husband feel the pull to leave the US with their children and travel to live in India, so they put their plans into action and leave their home in the Redwoods in preparation for their move. Months after they hear of the total destruction of their old home as huge trees fall on it during a freak winter storm. 

The thread running through this truest of stories is Devenish Ford's account of the ebb and flow of her mental health.  She describes the depression that descends on her mind as sudden and paralysing: like walking into the towering Redwoods with no sunshine glimmering down through the dense branches, forgetful of the hope of light to come. Though some of her days are shadowy, many more are beautifully lit by the positive choices she makes in an attempt to overcome the darkness.

"There are ten thousand beautiful things surrounding me, visible and invisible- I shuffle along in their midst, the days trickle in and out with a cloud of joy, children are always laughing around me. The joy of service, the service of love, the fact that love can cover and comfort and remove those black marks that end up covering our bright blue skies... Birth, rebirth, the shooting star wonder of Life entering the world- we turn our heads with tears in our eyes, look back when we can to see blinding hope."

Any mother who has ever questioned the repetitive nature of days at home with young children will appreciate reading about Devenish Ford's early mothering years, but this story will appeal to anyone who is inspired by those who have transformed their everyday simplicities into a life of beauty.

Buy Trees Tall as Mountains here in the UK, here in the US.
Visit Rachel Devenish Ford's blog Journey Mama to read more.

Eliza Carthy: Wayward Daughter... a review

I posted over at Common Folk Music today: a review of Eliza Carthy's album Wayward Daughter, released 13 June. 

Jane Eyre [2011]... a re-visited review

My original review was posted in September 2011, written for those who appreciate Jane Eyre and want to know how this 2011 screen adaptation matches up to the novel.  If that's not you, much love... but prepare to be bored. It does contain spoilers, none of which will be a surprise to you if you've read the book or already researched the movie.  I have re-visited my original review and updated it.

After our recent time spent driving through the Yorkshire moors and visiting the Brontë Parsonage museum, I decided to watch this 2011 version of Jane Eyre again last night with the director's commentary on as I worked at diminishing my huge sewing pile.

Colours are one of the first things I notice about a movie I'm watching.  With this particular film I am always instantly struck by the stunning colour palette. Mossy greys, forest greens, earthy browns, a few rare glimpses of russet reds.  Black shadows... deep and dark, pierced only by lonely candles or dim golden firelight. Truly evocative of an electricity-free 1840s England, this lighting --or lack of lighting-- style has resulted in a drama that is more realistically shaded than than most period films.  In nighttime scenes, we see little more than faces lit only by the candles they are carrying.  The surrounding darkness is intense, alive, and sometimes oppressive.

This is the first version of Jane Eyre in which I've been fully impressed with the portrayal of the title character.  I was gratified by Mia Wasikowska's accurate interpretation of Jane's strength and inner courage. After feeling disappointment with Ruth Wilson's pretty but meek and mild performance in the 2006 TV miniseries, it was refreshing to watch Wasikowska embody Jane's self-possessed yet passionate personality brilliantly.  Director Cary Fukinaga has chosen to capture on film only what Jane herself would have seen, which completely makes this all about Jane --rightly so.  The only exception is a brief moment when Mr Rochester discovers Jane's open window, and her flight from Thornfield.  This scene is blended with his voice calling out to her across the miles that separate them, so she is instantly connected to it anyhow.

Michael Fassbender carries off Mr Rochester's rudeness and generally abrupt manner quite well, as described in the novel.  He expresses a less fierce Rochester than the novel does, but this is in keeping with the movie's approach.  There is an austere dreamlike quality to the entire film due to the restrained screenplay and understated filming style that imparts a softer feel to the plot and characters.  Actors playing Mr Rochester usually have a field day with their character. He is portrayed as loud and larger than life, completely dwarfing Jane in personality, wealth, humour, and looks.  An appropriate amount of restraint in the interpretation of Mr Rochester, for this movie, is a welcome change from previous versions; after all, the novel is titled Jane Eyre --not Rochester!

A less important but yet rather key detail of this film is the fact that the characters of Jane and Rochester are played by actors of ages accurate to those in the novel.  Eighteen-year-old Wasikowska plays nineteen-year-old Jane, and Fassbender is at least thirty, or looks it. Wasikowska is small, with a childlikeness about her that conveys the naive Jane's character well.  Other film versions, for me, have been less believable just because of the inaccuracy of the casting.

Moira Buffini's screenplay is filled with direct quotes from Charlotte Brontë's novel.  Many well-loved lines, such as "A mere reed she feels in my hand! I could bend her with my finger and thumb!", and "Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless?" are in.  Others, less congenial to the bare story this movie is telling, such as "Reader, I married him" are out.  It's refreshing to see a film adaptation of a classic novel that doesn't feel the need to drastically change the language or the plot in order to make the movie watchable.

In the director's commentary, Cary Fukunaga mentions his desire to strip the story down to its key elements and thus increase the emotional impact of the film, all within the time constraints.  I've seen other directors attempt less successfully to do this [notably Joe Wright's 2005 Pride and Prejudice], but here Fukunaga's strategy works, probably because of Moira Buffini's brilliant screenplay.  There is one scene --straight from the book-- after Jane's discovery of Rochester's duplicity on their wedding day, when she leaves her room for a drink of water only to stumble over Rochester on the threshold.  The conversation that takes place between them afterwards is one of the most evocative passages in the book, and so stark in its description of Jane's moral struggle that early reviewers of Jane Eyre derided Brontë's novel as "coarse".  In many film versions, this scene is either out or edited strangely.  Here it is completely stripped of its original verbosity and yet still faithfully rendered through a few accurately chosen lines, in an emotionally impacting scene that is heartrending and raw.  Rochester's sense of his own power and his inability to use it because of his love for Jane ["A mere reed she feels in my hand! I could bend her with my finger and thumb!"] and Jane's desperation ["God help me!"] are perfectly acted.

Those who have read the book will have no difficulty following the story of Jane Eyre as this movie portrays it.  For watchers who haven't, I think they might have some questions.

If I had not read the book, I might be wondering why Jane falls in love with Rochester in the first place.  The movie veers quite close to a rather strange interpretation of this, making it possible to believe that Jane is merely a lonely, persuadable schoolgirl and Rochester is selfishly using her as an escape from his tarnished past in an attempt to return to a more innocent time in his life when his memory was "without blot or contamination".  However in the novel, Charlotte Brontë clearly shows us that her feelings for Rochester arise out of a sense of an intellectual connection: a meeting of the minds and a bond between their spirits.

Also, I would question Rochester's wife Bertha's madness after watching this version.  We see her for all of three minutes -rather calm ones, at that- and the blood-chilling dream-to-reality scene in which she rips Jane's wedding veil in two makes no appearance in this adaptation.

Both of these plot gaps are only a result of the lack of time to tell the story.  Yes, this is the "cliff's notes" version of Jane Eyre.  There is a fast-paced feel to what is actually a very slow story.  As with any film struggling to fit a many-layered, complex 500-page piece of literature into less than two hours of screen time [again, "Pride and Prejudice" 2005] we are missing a few scenes and narrative that define key developments in the plot.  In order to cram the story into the typical two hours, sacrifices have been made --thus the minor plot omissions-- leaving those unfamiliar with the novel unable to fully appreciate the story.  

I love the way the film begins in the last third of the book and then plays catch-up for the remainder of the movie.  It is very well executed, and works perfectly.  Someone who hasn't read the novel might disagree with me on that, but I thought it was an effective and unique method of visually interpreting the book!  The abrupt ending was refreshing. I often feel, while reading the final few pages of Jane Eyre, that Brontë is rushing to provide a satisfactory postscript to the story of every single character in the plot, just as many traditional movies love to do.  Sometimes less is more; and this film's pared-down, succinct contrast was superbly executed.

This movie is a version made by those who've read the book and love it, for those who've read the book and love it.  http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1229822/

Ghost on Ghost... a review

I wrote a review for the blog Common Folk Music and it was up today!  Follow the link to check it out:

Iron and Wine: Ghost on Ghost review 

I’ve been an Iron & Wine fan ever since I heard the percussive rain-like sounds of Sam Beam’s fourth EP Woman King years ago. It took my Pear Jam-loving musician husband Dan a little while to catch up but nowadays he’s probably the more obvious enthusiast out of the two of us. Iron & Wine transitioned us from the music of our early twenties, bestowing us with a deeper appreciation for the simpler Americana sound that is indicative of the singer-songwriter of our generation.

Dan pre-ordered the latest album this past spring. As usual, I am more cautious. I always prefer the old instead of the new, the past over the present, the mature cheddar rather than the mild. I have this innate feeling of suspicion every time new albums from my favourite bands or singers loom on the horizon. Can they match up to expectations after the brilliance of past releases? Can they incorporate varying musical influences without compromising their style and individuality? I haven’t even bothered with the last but one Iron & Wine album, Kiss Each Other Clean. It’s just too different; and yes, I am resistant to change!

So Ghost on Ghost arrives, and almost immediately Dan starts listening to it constantly. Initially, I am not impressed. Lyrically, Ghost on Ghost is Sam Beam, both in the flowing poetry and the whispering vocals. Musically it’s a different kettle of fish, and this is what I’m struggling to come to terms with. My favourite Iron & Wine album is The Creek Drank the Cradle; and the smooth structured 70’s style of Ghost on Ghost feels so far from the raw, earlier Americana. The contrast between these two is stark. It’s like that jolt of shock I’d have if I opened my closet one morning to discover that the worn hippie dresses hanging there have been replaced by trendy trouser suits. Or the consternation you’d experience returning to your simple, rural log cabin at the end of the day to find an enormous RV parked in the spot where your wooden shack used to be.

For me, a grudging appreciation of Ghost on Ghost doesn’t happen until I hear most of it performed live a few weeks ago at an Iron & Wine gig in Manchester. Dan and I sit motionless on the front row and watch this cohesive show play out in front of us, featuring a talented band. The sounds of the new album’s songs are impressive when performed live: smooth, fun, jazzy, verging on easy listening music but slipping back to folk whenever you start to worry. The best part of the gig by far is when the band exits the stage, leaving just Sam Beam with his Taylor. Here he gives us the Iron & Wine “buffet section”, as he calls it. This acoustic interlude is a contrasting breath of fresh outdoor air in the midst of the smoky sophisticated perfection that characterises the evening.

Ghost on Ghost is a bearded festival-goer who’s cut off his locks and donned a business suit. This is earthy but somehow posh Americana, no longer wistful or longing but fully in control, a tiny bit tatty around the edges yet polished shiny clean. It’s too bland to deserve the experimental tag, but it is good quality, diverse music and will no doubt appeal to a wider crowd than earlier albums did. It’s the latest installation in Iron & Wine’s patchwork musical journey, and Sam Beam isn’t finished yet. I do wonder where he will go from here. I can’t help but hope that someday he’ll move away from the jazz club and return to the woods.

The Great Gatsby... a film review

"You really must read the book before you watch the movie!"

Yes, we know.  Yet how many of us actually do this?

No snobbery intended, but if we're talking masterpieces of literature [not Nicholas Sparks, sorry] I've often read the book first.  Come on, I'm not the only one.  You know who you are, you other literary geeks out there.

I'm accustomed to watching a new film adaptation of a classic novel and being filled with apprehension, wondering how it's going to work out.  I breathe a hopeful sigh of anticipatory excitement, thinking: maybe this time the director will have actually read the original work and not just the screenplay?

Afterwards, I sink into a post-junkfood stupor.  I wanted to like it but had to finally admit to myself with honest reluctance that yet again, they just didn't get it right and it's not digestible. Edible, yes; enjoyable, maybe; but just not palatable.

All these bring tears to the eyes of those faithful to the author: miscast actors, entire shifts of scene and mood, book quotes tossed into the script like sweeties to placate the book-lovers whilst satisfying the watchers with gratifying plot changes for Hollywood hearts.  As much as I love Peter Jackson's Middle-Earth movies, isn't there just something that's lacking?  [LOTR: the Cliffs Notes trilogy, anyone?]  Impressive as Les Mis was onscreen, isn't it a bit difficult to imagine Victor Hugo being happy with his sprawling historical epic chopped into a grimy yet glittering feature musically manipulated to squeeze tears from our eyes?

After watching "The Great Gatsby" twice, I am completely torn. I have seen a book adapted properly --onscreen- and they almost got it right. I've been disappointed innumerable times on this score, and I can't let myself think that it was totally right, because it wasn't.  Yet parts of it were... and oh how frustrating it is to even begin to try to explain but I will give it a go.

  

American writer F Scott Fitzgerald authored The Great Gatsby, published in 1925.  Yes, I've read it.  Possibly more than twice, but that just means I stopped counting after twice.

This most recent adaptation, a Baz Luhrmann-directed tale of early 1920's decadence; sad histories; damaged psyches; and empty wealth was portrayed in a cacophony of modern music, tinsel and glitter, and most importantly: stellar performances from a perfect cast.  The cast's brilliance was overshadowed by the noisy, ADHD insanity of the film, which is exactly what we've come to expect from a Luhrmann movie.  It wasn't a problem for me as I was anticipating it, but I can imagine anyone seeing this who is new to his films might find it over-the-top and in bad taste.

The Great Gatsby is the narrative of a summer gone but not forgotten in the memory of its narrator, Nick Carraway. Nick's cousin, Daisy, is the beautiful wife of the incredibly unlikeable Tom Buchanan, an old-moneyed Ivy Leaguer who enjoys cheating on his wife but is self-righteously affronted when it appears she might be doing the same. Nick's neighbour Gatsby, a Great War veteran, is the centrepiece round which both novel and film revolve: he is the intriguing light reeling us into the story as we wonder, curiously, who he really is.  

The actors were sharply-cast and brilliant in their characters, doing exactly what they do in the book --no more, no less-- just as they should. The poignancy of this novel lies in its characterisation, and the movie manages to fulfil this sufficiently. The human drama is very real. We wince at the sight of Daisy's shallow inability to commit herself, fume over Tom's crass betrayals, feel sorry for Gatsby in his earnest devotion, and visualise it all through the lenses of Nick's naive yet knowledgeable narration.  The story plays out in a dream-like atmosphere, much like Luhrmann's other films do, causing viewers to "feel" the story before they even process the events taking place within it. Such an atmosphere clearly shows the instability of the era depicted in Fitzgerald's book.  As we watch, the story's meaning breaks over us in a sudden sense of realisation and we say, yes!  We understand what he's trying to tell us, and he's right.

Some critics have disliked the use of modern music for the film and derided Luhrmann for inviting us to the ball rather than causing us to feel disdain for the opulence of the era.  I disagree. I think the open-hearted invitation to the ball gives us the same feeling we have at the end of reading Fitzgerald's book: tired of the excess, fed up of the Toms and Daisys who "smashed up things and creatures and then retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness, or whatever it was that kept them together, and let other people clean up the mess they had made", and readied us to hunger for some quiet honesty and simple living. By the way, this critic's review was my favourite, because I believe the writer adequately expresses exactly what works about the film and what doesn't.

My general feeling at the end --this second time-- when the credits rolled, was satisfaction.  Luhrmann may not please the film critics with this Gatsby, but I think he's captured the feeling of the book, which is what matters.  Amongst other things, one he failed to capture would be the subtlety that cloaks Fitzgerald's novel.  Which leads me on to...

If you haven't read the book before, do so, whether you've seen the film or not.

You won't regret it.

Iron & Wine... Manchester, 30 May 2013

Our four little madpeople crowded in a wild heap on the sofa tonight watching "Return of the Jedi" under Nanny's watchful eye. This idyllically peaceful home scenario also included Grandad, who turned up later to support with the littles and help with laundry, and James, who drank an ungodly amount of espresso so he could stay up all night to finish his university assignments.

Dan and I left them all to their own devices and ran away to Manchester, where we caught up with the lovely Meg before attending an Iron & Wine gig we've had tickets for since February, at Manchester Opera House.

I've never been to Manchester before aside from numerous rushed panicky early morning airport runs when we think we're going to run into awful traffic and miss the flight, or those dead-tired return journeys when the trip is already a distant memory.

I loved it. Restored Industrial Age and Victorian architecture dominates this city that was once the industrial hub of England.  It might still be; I have no clue about such things.  I only know that the feel of the place is similar to Edinburgh.  It has that similar vibe of old and new jumbled up together, like scrambled eggs when you add cheese: the tangy, mature flavour is an exciting addition that you'd miss irrevocably if it was just plain old eggs.

The opera house is one of those old-fashioned grand designs, with a warren of passages inside leading to mysterious doors that open into the stalls, where we were seated.  We consulted our tickets as we walked down the rows, until we reached the front.  Yep, the front.  Dan had no idea when he booked the tickets that we had front row seats.  Pretty much right in the middle, too.

It took us a while to get over the surprise, but when we did there was so much awesomeness going on that we knew we would have been in love with the evening no matter where our seats had been.

I can't remember the name of the opening singer.  She had an amazingly powerful voice but, possibly due to nervousness, had little control over it and her words were frequently unintelligible because of her tendency to put her mouth to close to the microphone. Never mind. She had a beautiful smile, and we clapped kindly and enthusiastically for her because it was only her second gig.

Never mind, because we knew we were in for a treat.

Sam Beam, aka Iron & Wine, is one of those unassuming people who just walks onto a stage and owns it.  He took control, he and The Legendary Beard, which practically has a separate identity of its own. He looks exactly like I imagined the real Pa to look in the Little House books, totally unlike the curly-haired, grinning Michael Landon who played him in the 1970s TV series.  See, I'm right.

I can't really explain exactly how great it was.  There were lots of other good musicians and backing vocalists.  Together, they were a cohesive musical unit with perfect technique and a high standard.  It's always satisfying to know that you're getting your money's worth with a quality performance.  

However, the true enjoyment of experiencing Iron & Wine live lies in the genius poetry of the songs.  Sam Beam is a modern-day William Wordsworth.  Poetry pours out of his mouth, sung to a soothing musical score.

I'm sure I could discuss this extensively with my musician husband Dan [who nearly had a seizure during the onstage set-up watching a careless roadie manhandle one of Sam Beam's Taylor guitars] and give a more technical review of the musicality of the evening, but I'm going to just keep it to "magnificent" and leave it at that.

[You might notice the omission of my tradition of two music videos at the end of the review.  I haven't added them because all photography and videography was banned this evening during the gig at Manchester Opera House. I thought it would be a bit rude to just throw a two-year-old YouTube video onto this blog post!]

Rue Royale @ The Malt Cross... 07 May 2013

Tonight was a wonderful evening composed of catching up with old friends, listening to quality music, and drinking fairly great coffee!

The venue was a Victorian-era music hall, with glass-paned arched ceiling, a balcony-style second floor curving round the hall below protected by iron railings covered in fairy lights, and wooden floors.

The downstairs' floor was augmented by interesting groups of glass tiles.  I know nothing about the history of these particular types of buildings, but I wondered if the glass tile arrangements were designed to catch the light and reflect it, probably quite necessary in the days when all illumination was provided by gas lamps and candlelight.  

We enjoyed fresh coffees and drinks from the bar downstairs, but chose to sit upstairs in a cosy corner.

As amazing as the place was, these guys were the reason why we were there!  They don't disappoint... ever. They just get better with time.

Just like this historical gem hidden in the midst of a rapidly modernising Nottingham.

Rue Royale's third album, "Remedies Ahead", is out in August. 

Rue Royale... album number three!

Yesterday's "open book" post was an attempt to express how it felt to immerse myself in British culture so long ago, as well as try to understand and pinpoint my own identity.  It will be the first of many such "open book" posts that deal with the Big Change of this year: moving back to the States.

In practical terms, we are filing a petition for Dan's visa.  Once that clears, he has a medical and then actually sends in paperwork for a visa.  This will probably include an interview at our family's most-visited building in London: the good old American embassy.  There are financial costs every step of the way, so we have to walk this path slowly and carefully.  We don't yet have a leaving date, as our timeline is completely dictated by the speed of governmental paperwork.

For future posts, I'm also going to write about how I arrived here so many years ago, and why.  I think reliving a bit of my own history is going to be fun, and help me regain some of my memory, which has mysteriously gone missing over the last decade of parenting!

For today, though, I want to write about our favourite Anglo-American musical duo: friends Brook and Ruth Dekker, who together are Rue Royale.  Ruth, who already had known Dan for years, became a good friend to me too during my first year here in the Midlands.  She later sang at our wedding in the States, and then went on to fall in love with Brook, and they were married, settling on the opposite side of the Atlantic to us.  They stayed in the States initially, but later moved here to pursue touring in the coffeehouses of Europe. 

Short people in our house had fevers and congestion, so Dan and I had to see them separately over this weekend.  I went to Birmingham to the amazing Ort Cafe to hear them play on Saturday night; while Dan went with our mate Kemp to Manchester on Monday evening to do the same.

Their acoustic folk-pop sound and style has evolved gradually since that first LP we heard five years back.  They retain a distinctly melodious acoustic sound, voices alternately blending and harmonising, dreamy and dark.  I'm no musician, so I can't go into technicalities here, but I think in their new material there's a lighter, livelier lilt, with slightly more percussion and electric influences. 

The great news is, you're going to be able to hear some of this new stuff soon, too, if we can support them in their quest to record a third album!  Find out more about it here:

And visit their Kickstarter page to make a donation towards this album! 

Les Miserables... a brief movie review

I read Victor Hugo's novel Les Miserables at some point, many years ago.  I can't recall how old I was, but I remember sitting in my tiny bedroom on my Grandmother-made quilt paging through a library paperback, so thick that I had to peer into the centre of the book for the ends of the lines on the left page and the beginnings of them on the right page. The plot rambled and twisted, filling pages with stories and the words of so many characters and people that I began to lose count. I soldiered on through the mire of this five-volume saga, relieved when I finished, and no doubt celebrated by picking up Jane Eyre and re-reading that in a few days.

For a bibliophile like me, one of our concerns in life centres around seeing great written works brought to life on screen. I've never even seen the musical of the same name [clearly one of the most famous stage productions in the world] though I have heard its music over the years. So I was slightly on edge as we sat in the cinema last night, wondering if the stage show, translated to the screen, could evoke anything of the spirit of Victor Hugo's novel.

From the beginning, it delivered.

The cruelty, injustice, pain, and human suffering were all there.  But so was the redemption, the salvation, and the grace.  Told through the medium of music, the story was rendered even more powerful.  I was particularly struck by the clear comparisons drawn between Jean Valjean, the forgiven man, who lives to offer the same forgiveness to others; and Javert, the unforgiving, who continually seeks for justice to be served.  

I suppose it could have been downright emotional manipulation, with the sadness of the stories told through evocative song woven into the rawness of its themes, but this movie was a tearjerker. Predictably, Dan was crying before me, but I found myself very grateful for a gifted tissue by the time the credits rolled onto the screen!  We went with a large group of friends [hurrah for discounted group bookings!] and near the end of the film I could hear actual loud sobs coming from our row.

It was opening night here in the UK for this movie, and the cinema we were in was completely packed. I think it would be best to end this mini-review by stating that, for the first time in my life, I heard applause sweep across the room as the movie finished.

That's the best review you could receive, in my opinion.  

And though I'm sure most of you have by now either seen the movie or at least the trailer, here it is again just in case you've been hibernating.