‘Where Madness Lies’ by Sylvia True #historicalfiction #WWII #BookReview

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Germany, 1934. Rigmor, a young Jewish woman is a patient at Sonnenstein, a premier psychiatric institution known for their curative treatments. But with the tide of eugenics and the Nazis’ rise to power, Rigmor is swept up in a campaign to rid Germany of the mentally ill. USA, 1984. Sabine, battling crippling panic and depression commits herself to McLean Hospital, but in doing so she has unwittingly agreed to give up her baby. Linking these two generations of women is Inga, who did everything in her power to help her sister, Rigmor. Now with her granddaughter, Sabine, Inga is given a second chance to free someone she loves from oppressive forces, both within and without. This is a story about hope and redemption, about what we pass on, both genetically and culturally. It is about the high price of repression, and how one woman, who lost nearly everything, must be willing to reveal the failures of the past in order to save future generations. With chilling echoes of our time, Where Madness Lies is based on a true story of the author’s own family.

The treatment of those with mental health issues in Nazi Germany is something that isn’t written about as often as many of the other targeted groups, and it wasn’t something that I knew very much about, so I was intrigued by the premise of this book.

The dreadful treatment and murder of the mentally ill in Germany is told through the story of Rigmor, who is sent to Sorrenstein mental hospital by her family who hope to ease her struggles. What they don’t realise is that they are putting her in harm’s way.

We also meet Sabine, who, in the early 1980s, is suffering from depression after the birth of her baby, and who is helped by her grandmother, Inga, Rigmor’s sister.

The story begins quite slowly, and I wasn’t gripped at first, but then the pace picked up and what was happening became clearer, and from about a third of the way through, I couldn’t put the book down.

It is so well written, so heartfelt, and so brutally honest that at times you want to look away, but it is so important that these stories are remembered and told, and given the respect they deserve, even more so in this current climate when we seem to be blind to our past and slipping back into the prejudices and hatreds that were the root cause of the rise of fascism in the thirties. It is scary to think that we are following those same horrible paths, and books like these are so important in reminding us of exactly what we have to lose.

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‘While Paris Slept’ by Ruth Druart #bookreview #WWII #HistoricalFiction

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Paris 1944
A young woman’s future is torn away in a heartbeat. Herded on to a train bound for Auschwitz, in an act of desperation she entrusts her most precious possession to a stranger. All she has left now is hope.

Santa Cruz 1953
Jean-Luc thought he had left it all behind. The scar on his face a small price to pay for surviving the horrors of Nazi Occupation. Now, he has a new life in California, a family. He never expected the past to come knocking on his door.

On a darkened platform, two destinies become entangled. Their choice will change the future in ways neither could have imagined…

This started really well, with Jean-Luc’s intriguing arrest, and then with the events in Paris in 1944. The fear and desperation that Sarah and David feel is palpable, and Sarah’s selfless decision is heartbreaking. And Jean-Luc and Charlotte’s decision to save a stranger’s baby, despite the danger it will put them in, paves the way for what sound be an emotional, heart-in-the-mouth read.

But I didn’t quite feel the terror during Jean-Luc and Charlotte’s journey – everything felt a little too easy. And then the events after the war, from 1953 onwards, just felt very unrealistic. I hate to be negative, because I think there is a really heartfelt story here and one that has a huge amount of potential, but would Jean-Luc really have been arrested? Would he have been punished the way he is? Would he and Charlotte have kept their secret and not tried to get in touch with Sarah and David? Would Sarah and David be so resentful? It just didn’t add up – from all the characters being selfless and putting Sam first, they all seemed to become horribly selfish in the second part of the book.

This was definitely a missed opportunity, in my opinion.

Mad as a March Hare #Superstitions #pagan #Spring

Spring is finally upon us – it’s even been unusually sunny here in West Wales, and not a spot of rain for days! Turning the calendar over to March always makes me feel a little more cheerful – the dark, drab days of winter are finally coming to an end and the days hold the promise of warmth and light and colour. And of course, in Wales, the 1st March is St David’s Day – or, to give the day its proper name, dydd Gŵyl Dewi.

Along with dogs, hares are my favourite animal. My house is full of prints and ornaments, and there are several lovely moon-gazing hares in the garden (not real, I’m afraid). I’m very interested in paganism, and the hare has very strong links to paganism and witchcraft. In Scotland, the bluebell is the harebell, and the legend is that witches would turn into hares and hide in the harebells.

Painting by Lisa O’Malley

One of my favourite books is ‘Starve Acre’ by Andrew Michael Hurley, in which a hare features. You can read my review here. The cover is fabulous, and I’m really thrilled to see there’s an upcoming film, starring Matt Smith.

I love this image of a beautiful hare – but where did the term ‘Mad March Hare’ come from?

Photograph by Simon Litten

The meaning is clear – someone as ‘mad as a March hare’ is behaving strangely, as hares do in the month of March, although they have an excuse as it’s the start of their mating season, something I’m sure they are very excited about. But when did we start to use the comparison to describe other people?

One of the first recorded instances of an early form of the term dates from around 1500 in the poem ‘Blowbol’s Test’:

Thanne þey begyn to swere and to stare, And be as braynles as a Marshe hare

(Then they begin to swerve and to stare, And be as brainless as a March hare)

John Skelton, writing in the 16th century has a penchant for variations on the phrase, in both’ Replycacion’ (1528):

“Aiii, I saye, thou madde Marche Hare”

And ‘Magnyfycence’ (1529)

“As mery as a marche hare”

Even Sir Thomas More was a fan, and in his ‘Supplycacyn of soulys’ (1529) gives the first record of the phrase as we now use it:

“As mad not as a March hare, but as a madde dogge.”

A derivative phrase – ‘hare-brained’ – appears in 1548, in Edward Hall’s Chronicle:

“My desire is that none of you be so unadvised or harebrained…”

Perhaps the most famous mad March hare is the creation of Lewis Carroll, in that  lovely classic ‘Alice in Wonderland’ who, along with the Mad Hatter, presides over a very confusing tea party:

‘Have some wine,’ the March Hare said in an encouraging tone.

Alice looked all round the table, but there was nothing on it but tea. ‘I don’t see any wine,’ she remarked.

‘There isn’t any,’ said the March Hare.

The March Hare took the watch and looked at it gloomily: then he dipped it into his cup of tea, and looked at it again: but he could think of nothing better to say than his first remark, “It was the best butter, you know.”

In the original illustrations for the book by Sir John Tenniel, the poor March Hare is depicted with straw on his head. This was a symbol often used in Victorian illustration to depict madness. It has been suggested that this comes from no less a famous madwoman than Shakespeare’s ‘Ophelia’. Gertrude describes her, in death, as having ‘fantasticke Garlands’ of ‘Crow-flowers, Nettles, Daysies, and long Purples,’ and ‘Coronet weeds’.

As for the poor Mad Hatter, that’s a whole other post, with far more gruesome connotations, mad as he is from mercury poisoning!

Anyway, it’s good to celebrate the coming fine weather, and I for one certainly have a spring in my step (now, where did that one come from?!)

http://www.opheliapopularculture.com/home/gertrude-s-description-of-ophelia-s-death

http://sabian.org/alice_in_wonderland7.php

http://idiomation.wordpress.com/2011/07/12/mad-as-a-march-hare/

http://www.express.co.uk/news/nature/463047/CHEEKY-Moment-a-mad-March-hare-blows-a-raspberry

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Skelton

Happy Halloween! #samhain #halloween #witches

Double, double toil and trouble; 
Fire burn and cauldron bubble.  
By the pricking of my thumbs, 
Something wicked this way comes. 

Most of us are familiar with these words from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, and with the gruesome hags that stir the cauldron. They have become the blueprint for the portrayal of witches; ugly, toothless old women; scheming, mysterious and powerful. But is it fair? And why do we see witches in this way – it can’t all be Shakespeare’s fault, can it?

Before the advent of Christianity there were many diverse religions – Druids, Norse Odinists and the witches that had for centuries acted as healers, midwives and wise women and men. However, when the Inquisition was launched, it wasn’t just direct ‘threats’ to the Roman Catholic Church that came under suspicion. Anyone could potentially be accused of heresy, and many of those healers and wise woman came under attack.

Propaganda was a big part of this religious war. The inquisitors sought to portray witches as evil, ugly, dirty, devil-worshippers:

This left anyone who didn’t conform open to attack – if you lived by yourself, had a wart on your nose or a deformed leg – then watch out! You were probably a witch. The majority of those arrested, tortured, tried, condemned and murdered were not witches; real witches had taken their religion underground.

Of course, real witches are nothing like those pointy-nosed, warty child-cookers of Hansel and Gretel fame and seemingly endless Disney adaptations. But the stereotype lingers, as false today as it was back then. Witches aren’t Satanists, and witchcraft isn’t and never has been Satanism. In fact, witchcraft in ancient times was ‘the craft of the wise’. It is a spiritual system that teaches respect for the earth. Witchcraft is also referred to as Wicca, the term most often used today. It is a religion, based on respect for the earth, and the worship of a creator that is both male and female – Goddess and God. Wiccans believe the creator is in everything – the trees, rain, the sea and all other creatures, and this belief fosters a respect and a caring for the natural world and for all life. Wiccans celebrate the changing of the seasons, and the phases of the moon. They are still healers; using natural remedies, and their spells are for harmony, love, creativity, wisdom and healing. Isn’t it time witches were given the respect that we give others? After all, we speak a lot of tolerance for religion and beliefs and yet don’t allow this most ancient of religions any respect at all.

And as a little antidote to these images, here’s a rather beautiful portrayal of a witch, strangely enough from an ad for Pears soap!

‘A Room Made of Leaves’ by Kate Grenville #TuesdayBookBlog #Bookreview

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It is 1788. When twenty-one-year-old Elizabeth marries the arrogant and hot-headed soldier John Macarthur, she soon realises she has made a terrible mistake. Forced to travel with him to New South Wales, she arrives to find Sydney Town a brutal, dusty, hungry place of makeshift shelters, failing crops, scheming and rumours. All her life she has learned to fold herself up small. Now, in the vast landscapes of an unknown continent, Elizabeth has to discover a strength she never imagined, and passions she could never express.

Inspired by the real life of a remarkable woman, this is an extraordinarily rich, beautifully wrought novel of resilience, courage and the mystery of human desire.

There’s no question that this is a beautifully written novel from a very talented author. Some of the description is absolutely wonderful and there’s such a clear sense of time and place.

The opening chapters, describing Elizabeth’s childhood, worked the best for me, and the Elizabeth in these chapters felt very real and fully drawn.

Once the narrative moves to Australia, the novel didn’t work quite so well for me. I did feel that Elizabeth was a little too good to be true and that the portrayal of her husband was a bit superficial. I would have liked a bit more detail about the dynamics of their relationship, and also some more detail about the daily hardships of life in the new settlement. This aspect, in particular, was very glossed over. It must have been absolutely brutal, but it doesn’t really feel that way.

I think too, that, while there certainly is acknowledgement of the cruelty to the indigenous people of the area, this could have been more fully detailed. And is it really believable that Elizabeth would have been so enlightened, that she would have recognized that the immigrants from England were stealing land and food and lives from others?

That said, the book did leave me wanting to know more about the real Elizabth Macarthur, and it was, on the whole, a book that I’m glad to have read.

‘The Bird in the Bamboo Cage’ by Hazel Gaynor #TuesdayBookBlog #BookReview

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China, 1941. With Japan’s declaration of war on the Allies, Elspeth Kent’s future changes forever. When soldiers take control of the missionary school where she teaches, comfortable security is replaced by rationing, uncertainty and fear.

Ten-year-old Nancy Plummer has always felt safe at Chefoo School. Now the enemy, separated indefinitely from anxious parents, the children must turn to their teachers – to Miss Kent and her new Girl Guide patrol especially – for help. But worse is to come when the pupils and teachers are sent to a distant internment camp. Unimaginable hardship, impossible choices and danger lie ahead.

Inspired by true events, this is the unforgettable story of the life-changing bonds formed between a young girl and her teacher, in a remote corner of a terrible war.

I’ve read quite a few of Hazel Gaynor’s books and have loved every one of them. She has a really lovely way of writing about ordinary people in extraordinary situations, showing how those people find such strength of character in order to cope. The relationships between her characters are always a highlight too.

This novel is no exception. Elspeth and Nancy are authentic and likeable narrators, showing clearly their fear and bewilderment as their lives change so dramatically. What works particularly well is their belief that this can’t possibly be happening, that someone will come and hp them. It really made me, as a reader, think about what how I would react in those circumstances.

I did find, however, the storyline around the Girl Guides a little overdone. I can appreciate that it was something to hold onto, for the girls and their teachers, and something they used to give life in the camp a sense of normality, but it did take over the narrative in places.

Otherwise, another great novel by Hazel Gaynor, and definitely recommended.

A Very Happy Easter! #Easter #Eostre #Pagan

One of the things I most enjoy is finding out what lies behind many traditional celebrations. Whenever I’ve done this I’ve learned that what I thought I knew, what I was told at school, and by my parents, is usually wrong.

Since we moved to Wales, I’ve become very interested in Paganism, and the role of nature in many belief systems. We’re lucky enough to live somewhere that is truly magical, and it’s impossible to think that that there isn’t something spiritual about the natural world.

CENARTH FALLS

And it is paganism, and old beliefs that I often find are at the heart of mainstream celebrations today.

Easter is no exception. Easter falls in Spring – a time of renewal and rebirth, a time when we finally get some sunshine and warmth, and the countryside is awash with golden daffodils. It’s a time of hope, and optimism, and is full of promise of long, warm days to come (even here in Wales!).

The date on which we celebrate Easter each year is also governed by those old beliefs. Very old beliefs, in fact. Easter Day is set by the lunisolar calendar, which was created in Mesopotamia around 3000 BC. It falls on the Sunday following the first full moon after the spring equinox.

And the word ‘Easter’ itseLf has nothing to do with Christianity. Most European countries believe the word derives from the Hebrew word ‘Pesach’ – or Passover, the Jewish holiday. In English-speaking countries and Germany, however, it has been argued that the word is derived from the name of a Pagan springtime goddess – Ēostre.

Ēostre is the Germanic goddess of dawn. She was traditionally celebrated with festivals celebrating fertility, renewal and rebirth. The goddess is often depicted with hares or actually with the head and shoulders of a hare – which leads us to the rather strange Easter bunny!

The hare brings us back to the importance of the moon to the date of Easter. Hares, like the moon, were though to die and be reborn every day, making the hare a symbol of immortality, new life, and rebirth.

Of course, the egg is a symbol of new life, fertility and creation, which probably led to the inclusion of coloured eggs in the celebrations (they weren’t always made of chocolate!). Hares are my favourite animal (after dogs!), and the house is full of them (not real ones, of course, pictures, paintings and ornaments, even a teapot!). They’re beautiful, almost other-worldly, and I love too the story around the beautiful harebell flower – that witches turn into hares and hide amongst these gorgeous blooms.

As a child I was convinced that hot cross buns were a symbol of the crucifixion, which always struck me as a bit morbid, and a bit inappropriate, to be honest. In fact, the cross on the bun originated with the Ancient Egyptians, to create four sections, representing the four phases of the moon or the four seasons, depending on the festival being celebrated. Later, Greeks and Romans offered sweetened rolls to Eos, goddess of the morning and to Ēostre. Here, the cross represented the horns of a sacrificial ox.

So how is it that we now associate all these things with the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus?
Following the rise of Christianity, many new feast days and celebrations were attached to the previous Pagan festivals. And as the older religions were ‘discouraged’ the new festivals took over.

I think I’ll feel a bit more comfortable eating my hot cross bun this morning thinking about the moon and the individual beauty that each season brings! And there will, of course, be lots of chocolate eggs!

However you’re celebrating, have a wonderful Easter weekend!

‘Daughters of Night’ by Laura Shepherd-Robinson #TuesdayBookBlog #BookReview

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From the pleasure palaces and gin-shops of Covent Garden to the elegant townhouses of Mayfair, Laura Shepherd-Robinson’s Daughters of Night follows Caroline Corsham as she seeks justice for a murdered woman whom London society would rather forget . . .

London, 1782. Desperate for her politician husband to return home from France, Caroline ‘Caro’ Corsham is already in a state of anxiety when she finds a well-dressed woman mortally wounded in the bowers of the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. The Bow Street constables are swift to act, until they discover that the deceased woman was a highly paid prostitute, at which point they cease to care entirely. But Caro has motives of her own for wanting to see justice done, and so sets out to solve the crime herself. Enlisting the help of thieftaker Peregrine Child, their inquiry delves into the hidden corners of Georgian society, a world of artifice, deception and secret lives.  

But with many gentlemen refusing to speak about their dealings with the dead woman, and Caro’s own reputation under threat, finding the killer will be harder, and more treacherous, than she can know . . .

This combines all the twists and turns of a really clever murder mystery with meticulous research, and a fabulously written main character – mystery, history and a female lead that you really care about.

Lady Caroline Corsham (Caro) discovers her friend, who she believes to be an Italian countess, dying in a bower in the Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens. Caro is shocked to discover that ‘Lucia’ is actually Lucy Loveless, a high-class prostitute. When the police don’t seem to care about Lucy’s murder, Caro, determined to get to the truth and to secure justice for Lucy, begins an investigation herself. Along with theiftaker Peregrine Child, she begins an investigation that brings to light some very dangerous goings-on in Georgian society – some of which are rather close to home.

This is a very long book – almost six hundred pages in paperback format. It does manage to hold your interest for the most part – but I did feel it could have been cut back a little. There were times when I just wanted to get on with the story. That said, the historical detail has been meticulously researched and the narrative is full to the brim with little details that immerse the reader in late eighteenth century London. 

Clever, exciting, beautifully written, just a little bit too long – but that won’t stop me reading more by this author.

‘The Hemlock Cure’ by Joanne Burn #TuesdayBookBlog #BookReview

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It is 1665 and the women of Eyam keep many secrets.

Isabel Frith, the village midwife, walks a dangerous line with her herbs and remedies. There are men in the village who speak of witchcraft, and Isabel has a past to hide. So she tells nobody her fears about Wulfric, the pious, reclusive apothecary.

Mae, Wulfric’s youngest daughter, dreads her father’s rage if he discovers what she keeps from him. Like her feelings for Rafe, Isabel’s ward, or that she studies from Wulfric’s forbidden books at night.

But others have secrets too. Secrets darker than any of them could have imagined.

When Mae makes a horrifying discovery, Isabel is the only person she can turn to. But helping Mae will place them both in unspeakable peril.

And meanwhile another danger is on its way from London. One that threatens to engulf them all . . .

Based on the real history of an English village during the Great Plague, The Hemlock Cure is an utterly beguiling tale of fear and ambition, betrayal, self-sacrifice and the unbreakable bond between two women.

For an historical novel, The Hemlock Cure feels very topical!

Based on the true story of the Derbyshire village of Eyam during the great plague, this is an absolutely stunning novel, beautifully-written, atmospheric, and impeccably researched. 

After the death of her mother and sister, Mae lives with her father Wulfric, the village apothecary.  With her natural ability for healing, she hopes to become his apprentice, building on all she has learned from him, and from her mother’s close friend, Isabel, the village midwife. But Wulfric despises Isabel, and his feverish religious beliefs make him a very dangerous man.

When the plague comes from London, and people begin to die, the village makes the brave decision to isolate to protect others. This is something that really happened, and the author uses this historical event to weave a narrative that gives a real sense of the way that ordinary people, particularly women, were (and to an extent still are) constrained by circumstances.

Using Mae’s sister Leah as the narrator works really well. She can see what is happening, but feels powerless, in the same position as the reader. I really cared about Mae and Isabel (and the lovely Johan, Isabel’s husband). 

This is wonderful story-telling, drawing you in, making you believe in the characters and the world in which they live, one of those rare books you can get lost in. 

Definitely recommended. 

A Traditional Welsh Christmas #ChristmasTradition #Christmas #Wales

Beautiful Cenarth in the snow

This will be our third Christmas in Wales, and while COVID means that things aren’t quite how we expected them to be, one of the things we love about living in our small Welsh village is the real sense of community, especially at this time of year. Sadly, the beautiful candlelit Christmas Eve carol service in the local church, St LLawddog’s, has had to be cancelled again this year, but hopefully, in years to come, we’ll get to enjoy some of these fascinating traditional Welsh Christmas and New Year traditions.

Noson Gyflaith (Toffee Evening)

In some parts of north Wales, families would invite friends to their homes, in turn, to spend an evening eating, playing games, storytelling – and making toffee.

The ingredients were boiled, and when at the right temperature were poured onto a stone slate, or even the hearth stone. Then members of the gathering would cover their hands in butter and ‘pull’ the warm toffee, twisting it until it became golden yellow in colour. 

Plygain

Christmas for many in Wales meant getting up extremely early for the traditional plygain service at the parish church. Plygain was held variously between 3 a.m. and 6 a.m. and many would stay up all night to await the service, filling their time with  decorating their house with holly and mistletoe, singing and dancing, or playing in the streets. There would then be a candle or torch lit procession to the church for the service.

Mari Lwyd

Mari Lwyd translates as the grey mare and is a Pagan tradition carried out in parts of Wales either around Christmas or in the New Year. 

The Mari Lwyd is a horse’s skull, decorated with ribbons and bells, carried around on a pole by a participant hidden in a cloak. Flanked by traditionally-dressed attendants, the Mari Lwyd then goes from house to house. At each house, they try to gain entrance by reciting a series of verses, to which the householder responds with their own verses in a bid to outwit the Mari Lwyd. Once the ‘battle’ is over, the party goes into the house to eat and drink – this brings good luck to the householder –  and then moves on to the next house.

The Nos Galan Road Races

In a rather healthier way to spend New Year’s Eve than drinking too much, up to 2000 runners gather in the afternoon in the Welsh Valley’s town of Mountain Ash to commemorate Guto Nyth Brân, who lived in the village of Llwyncelyn in the early 1700s. According to legend, he was such a fast runner that he could run to Pontypridd and back – a distance of seven miles – before his mother’s kettle had boiled.

This tradition was begun by local runner Bernard Baldwin in 1958. It starts with a church service at Llanwynno, where a wreath is laid on Brân’s grave, and a torch is lit. Races are then run in the town. These used to go on until midnight, when the New Year was welcomed in.

Calennig on New Year’s Day

“Dydd calan yw hi heddiw, Rwy’n dyfod ar eich traws I ‘mofyn am y geiniog, Neu grwst, a bara a chaws. O dewch i’r drws yn siriol Heb newid dim o’ch gwedd; Cyn daw dydd calan eto Bydd llawer yn y bedd.”

“Today is the start of the New Year, and I have come to you to ask for coins, or a crust, and bread and cheese. O come to the door cheerfully without changing your appearance; Before the next arrival of the new year many will be dead.”

This rather pessimistic New Year’s greeting is part of the traditional of calennig. Children, dressed in their best clothes, would visit relatives before midday, carrying skewered apples or oranges stuck with fruit and raisins. They would sing or recite rhymes in exchange for to gifts (cakes sweets, money, bread and cheese,  for example) for the New Year.

While Christmas may again not be what we expected, we are grateful that we are well, and safe and that we are able to spend the time together, with our two children. This year has been a difficult one for so many people, and the bad news sometimes feels relentless. So I hope you all have peaceful, safe, restful holidays with your loved ones, and that if you can’t be with family or friends, that you find a way to spend the season that brings you joy and contentment.