This event in Waterstones, Piccadilly, and another in Barking Learning Centre, were my reasons for being in London. My editor at John Murrays, Mark Richards, and fellow author, Jessie Greengrass, chatted about books – writing them and publishing them – to two lovely groups.

I love London. I love the surprises: a hidden church, a tiny park, an unexpected coffee stall. I love the mix of architectural styles. I love Pret.

And now I love Kew Gardens. It was too nice to do indoor, cultural stuff, so I took myself off on the tube – accidentally choosing a carriage full of six-year-olds all kitted out in their hi-vis vests and sun hats: school tour. The wall of noise made me want to turn around and get back off again, and my expression must have conveyed as much to the woman near the door. “At least everyone in here is smiling,” she pointed out.

Kew: why doesn’t everyone live there? It’s so pretty, you couldn’t stage it: leafy streets, flowery everything, kids in crisp uniforms playing cricket in the village green. Then there are the Gardens themselves. The Palm House was impressive, but too hot; I pitied the school groups who had to endure their educational tour. But the vistas, named for trees, were perfect, and I wandered lazily, my only end goal being the Orangery and its cake.

This Zen gardener’s job was to rake the pebbles  into neat patterns. Was it meditative, or just hot, I asked. I was thinking of a character in my novel who struggles with the whole Zen gardening thing. He prevaricated a bit . . . time of year . . . low sun shows patterns better . . . then admitted that it was just hot. 

The eucalyptus grove smelled divine; Kew was having its Spice season. Then came the Orangery, a light, bright restaurant with every kind of tempting thing to eat. I chose cake, as recommended by Neil Hegarty in Cara Magazine, and it didn’t disappoint.

It’s party time! Come along if you’re in Dublin on August 5th. The Gutter Bookshop is expecting you!

Happy Monday!

Delighted to see Generation listed as a Book to Look Out For in July 2015 over at A Life In Books, not least because the list includes two I was looking out for myself: Jo McMillan’s Motherland, and Jane Urquhart’s new one, The Night Stages – loved The Stone Carvers.

‘. . . billed as ‘a short novel that contains a huge amount’, a neat little description that snagged my attention.’

.

“Just finished @ViewReView1 Generation. Loved every minute, Unravelling Oliver with a splash of Room. Check it out!” Sinead Crowley, Author; Arts and Media Correspondent with RTE News (@SineadCrowleyAuthor), 12th June.

“Impressed by @ViewReView1’s Generation (@J_M_Originals, July): plot’s use of little details rather than major twists gives real authenticity.” Jonathan Ruppin, Foyle’s web editor  (@tintiddle). 17th May.

I know – it’s far from literary salons we were reared, but I’m really looking forward to these two events next week. John Murrays editor, Mark Richards, fellow JM Originals author, Jessie Greengrass, and myself, will be chatting about getting published, the editing process, the writing process. . . whatever comes up, really – we’re hoping to make the events as interactive as possible.

On Thursday 2nd July we’ll be in Barking Learning Centre from 7 – 8:30pm. Admission is free, but it’s a good idea to book: 020 8724 8722.

And the following day, Friday 3rd July, we’ll be in Waterstones, Piccadilly for The John Murray Originals Salon. This event also begins at 7pm, and again, admission is free, but booking is advised: piccadilly@waterstones.com to RSVP.

I haven’t written here for a while. I’ve been busy writing – that thing I’m supposed to be doing between tweets and emails – and reading. Are there more debuts out there this year than usual, or is it just that I’m noticing because mine will be one of them, the way you only notice the For Sale signs when you’re in the market for a house? Here are some:

Skin Paper Stone by Máire T. Robinson. A contemporary Galway story, sensitively told. Features Sheila Na Gigs and dry shite!

Rickshaw, by David McGrath. Yes, a relative (one I haven’t met). But that doesn’t make it less pacy, exciting, and just plain good.

I haven’t got to Eggshells, Catriona Lally yet, or Sarah Bannon’s Weightless… but I will!

Non-debuts I’ve also enjoyed: 

All Involved by Ryan Gattis. The book everyone’s talking about. On a personal note, I was a little involved; I lived in Long Beach during the LA riots, and always expected to write something based on the experience, so I’m bitter… but enjoying it. And: The Green Road, Anne Enright; Green Glowing Skull, Gavin Corbett; Tender, Belinda McKeon.

Currently reviewing: A Hand Reached Down to Guide Me, David Gates.

On the long road to publication, this was the moment I was waiting for most eagerly. I was half-expecting them, as I’d seen on twitter that Jessie Greengrass’ beautiful Auk had arrived, and we’re on the same schedule.

It was all I could do not to blurt to the delivery man that it was my BOOK, and wasn’t he excited. Instead, I made my 17yo stand by, under orders to be excited. He humoured me…

I don’t have a shelf as classy as Jessie’s, but we’ll find somewhere.

By way of introducing itself to the world, JM Originals is going on tour: Leeds, Edinburgh, Winchester, Barking, Piccadilly, here we come! Editorial Director Mark Richards, fellow author Jessie Greengrass, and myself, will be chatting about writing, getting published, and the publishing process. So, if you reside in or around any of the above locations, do come along; if the JM Originals launch is anything to go by, it will be fun. Some details here (more to follow).

And I’m coming armed with the Lonely Planet, because there might be time to finally see a moor, or take in a famous author’s house, or a national park. There is so much of our neighbouring island that I haven’t seen – probably because I’ve always opted for somewhere with better weather than here – but now’s my chance. First stop, Yorkshire. I’m packing floaty dresses and letting my hair grow wild. It’s me I’m Cathy I’ve come home… 

I’m no film critic. I was of the bemused pre-film studies generation who later watched Rear Window in class and didn’t get it.  I missed out on about 18 years of film because I couldn’t find a babysitter, and then there were the years living outside Dublin when all things Art House passed me by. That’s my disclaimer. But for what it’s worth, I know what I like… And more often than not I leave the cinema disappointed. Is it just me or are there really that many bad movies? Movies made from books would appear to have the odds stacked even more highly against them.

I don’t know whether film critics loved or loathed Far From the Madding Crowd, or whether it has been deemed ‘faithful’ to the book or not, but I enjoyed it. I read Hardy’s novel many years ago, and I remember feeling the same sense of disorientation. Here was a feisty, feminist heroine, but in a 19th century novel. Then there were the twists and turns, more akin to soap opera than to a contemporary novel, or contemporary film for that matter, but as with the book I decided to stop trying to fit my contemporary mindset onto it and instead to follow it where it took me.

It was published serially, Google confirms, monthly and anonymously, in a magazine called Cornhill. I wrote an episodic novel myself a few years ago, which was universally rejected for being too episodic. But why not represent a life as it unfolds, in episodes? Are we so attached to rounding off and wrapping up that we can’t do what the nineteenth century reader could? Or, if we can get our heads around the concept, why do we limit the form to soaps and tv series?

A few lines jarred because they felt too modern – ‘I’ll be there for you’ is something from Friends, as far as I’m concerned. Farmer Oak was too good to be wholesome, and I suspect his hands were soft and his nails clean. And the thud of the sheep hitting the shore was more funny than tragic. But I was willing to be lulled into a Wessex idyll, with a sympathetic heroine and a happy ending. I emerged into the’madding crowd’ of O’Connell Street, awash with drunks and junkies as is its wont that time of night, a satisfied punter.