Hurrah for Wildthorn and Amelia Bloomer!

By Jane Eagland | Published: January 27, 2012

I heard today that Wildthorn has been selected for the Amelia Bloomer List.

Chosen by folk affiliated to the American Library Association, this is a list of ‘well-written books about girls and women that spur the imagination while confronting traditional female stereotypes’. And very honoured I am that Wildthorn is on it.

Amelia Bloomer(1818 –1894)

 will be forever associated with ‘bloomers’. In fact it was another American activist, Libby Miller, who first adopted the costume of long baggy trousers gathered at the ankles. Worn with a short dress or skirt they were designed to preserve modesty while allowing women more freedom of movement. It was the press that nicknamed them ‘Bloomers’ after Amelia Bloomer enthusiastically promoted them. Bloomers and their wearers were widely ridiculed and they never became popular. Amazingly, women preferred the inconvenience of the crinoline to this sensible garb.

What is perhaps less widely known is that Amelia Bloomer was the first woman to own, operate and edit a newspaper for women called The Lily and she used it to promote the cause of women’s suffrage.

So tonight I’ll be raising a celebratory glass in memory of a brave and pioneering woman.

Cheers, Amelia!

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Tis the Season

By Jane Eagland | Published: December 23, 2011

to be…not jolly, certainly, given that I am Scroogier than Scrooge when it comes to this time of year and the madness associated with …you-know-what. No, this time of year makes me feel nostalgic and one of the holidayish things I like to do as the light fades and the curtains are drawn is curl up on the sofa with the sort of book I loved as a child.

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett springs to mind and I can envisage the picture of the robin perched on a fork, but looking for a copy, I discover I haven’t got it! Catastrophe! But I can remember the characters very well – Mary, disagreeable at first, invalid Colin and lovely Dickon, with his sympathy for animals – and the garden itself, which may have been responsible for my delight in walled gardens.

I did find these on my shelves and they have exactly the right winter afternoon quality:

To be honest only The Borrowers Afield belongs to my childhood – this is the very book I was given as a prize for winning the school poetry competition. (See About Me) Mary Norton brilliantly imagine how ordinary things and we ‘human beans’ are experienced by these tiny people, who are actually just like us. I love the illustrations by Diana Stanley in my copy (published in 1960). This, to me, is what Arriety and Pod and Homily look like – no other version will do

I was introduced to The Hounds of the Morrigan by Pat O’ Shea later in life, and though I’m not a great one for fantasy and this one has all the typical ingredients – the quest, the battle between good and evil – it is also funny and real and Pidge, the hero, and his sister Brigit are wonderfully human and believable.

And Journey to the River Sea by the late, great Eve Ibbotson is a much more recent publication( 2001) but has all the hallmarks of a children’s classic. Orphan Maia and her governess Miss Minton have to leave England for Brazil to live with the unpleasant Carter family. There adventures ensue, involving a travelling theatre troupe, and swapped identities and danger and excitement.

My final choice, The Little White Horse by Elizabeth Goudge, goes back to childhood again. I have an old and battered copy:

 

It contains the original illustrations by C.Walter Hodges. Here right at the beginning of the story are orphaned Maria Merryweather, her governess Miss Heliotrope and Wiggins the King Charles spaniel:

They are on their way to Moonacre Manor to live with Maria’s cousin. There Maria finds herself drawn into an ancient feud…

Dusk is falling as I write this. Time to head for the sofa and start reading…

What children’s books would you choose as your winter favourites?

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Mystery Gifts

By Jane Eagland | Published: December 5, 2011

Late in the day I have come across this lovely story: that over the last year someone has been leaving beautiful paper sculptures made from books in various locations in Edinburgh associated with the arts.

Here is one:

 

dragon sculpture

The accompanying label reads:

A gift in support of libraries, books, works, ideas….. Once upon a time there was a book and in the book was a nest and in the nest was an egg and in the egg was a dragon and in the dragon was a story…..

I see this partly as a celebration of how books nourish writers; writers nourish readers.

You can see more of the sculptures and read about them here.

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Fundament-als

By Jane Eagland | Published: November 8, 2011

A couple of times lately, when doing nothing more complicated than standing up or reaching for something, I have experienced a stabbing pain in my lower back.

Being of a pessimistic disposition and believing that lower back pain is notoriously difficult to cure, I immediately envision a future where lifting anything is unwise; gardening a no-no. No point in looking for a new home with a bigger garden then.

A friend recommends a physiotherapist. In no time at all, Jane locates my problem: a locked sacroiliac joint (the bit that joins your spine to your pelvis). A couple of sessions of deft massage and deep probing (ouch!) plus some exercises to do at home and the joint is moving again.

The future brightens. A garden becomes desirable again. But this experience has made me very aware of one of the drawbacks to being a writer – the amount of time one spends sitting. Poor old fundament. No wonder it stiffens up. I do try to get out every afternoon for some air and exercise. But sometimes this just means walking to the library. It’s obviously not enough.

Recently I visited an old friend, who’s in his eighties. Last winter he suffered a fall and was unable to stand, let alone move. Now through sheer determination he can stand and walk. He demonstrated the exercises he does – bicycling and weight lifting. He put me to shame.

I have re-joined the gym. I’ve fished out the old Rosemary Conley videos for afternoons like today when it’s dank and going for a walk means wading up to my knees in mud. Tomorrow I am going to try a pilates session.

Whether I keep up this enthusiasm for movement remains to be seen!

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Far From The Madding Crowd

By Jane Eagland | Published: October 26, 2011

I’ve been staying at Sandhead in Galloway – far out to the west of Scotland. With deadlines looming, I went there to finish one book and start thinking about the next one.

The house overlooked the sea. I worked upstairs at a table by the window. Whenever I looked up, the whole wide sweep of the bay lay before me. With its changing light and cloudscapes, the sea coming in and going out, curtains of rain passing over – it was marvellous. And since the book I was working on is set on a remote Scottish island, it was inspiring.

I also achieved my aims, which was very satisfying. And didn’t think about houses, the buying and selling thereof, for a whole fortnight. Bliss!

I’ve had this experience before. By going away, especially beyond the reach of internet access, life narrows down, gets much simpler. It’s easy to fall into a routine. Work in the morning, out in the afternoon for some exercise and diversion (often involving cake), back to work and then relax in the evening. And nothing else to think about except the book.

It’s so much harder to achieve this focus at home. Chores, appointments, friends, emails, the lure of the internet: so many temptations and distractions.

Maybe that’s why I would love a writing shed. By going down the garden and shutting myself in, I imagine I would achieve that same sense of separation.

How do other writers manage?

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She That Seeketh

By Jane Eagland | Published: August 29, 2011

August is almost over and where have I been? Not at my desk which, with my next deadline looming, is where I should have been. Nor, alas, basking on a beach or indulging in the delights of foreign travel. So what have I been up to?

I have been house hunting.

What a simple statement. One that suggests a pleasurable activity. The thrill of the chase. The pursuit of a quarry, minus gore. How exciting, friends say when I tell them.

I have come to this point after toying with extension plans for most of the year and finally acknowledging that it’s not going to work. The house is too small. Hence the search for something bigger.

And, yes, it is exciting. Up to a point. And there’s an undeniable pleasure in snooping round other people’s houses. But oh, oh, oh….No wonder they say moving house is one of the most stressful things you can do.

You remember it? Having to keep the house tidy in case someone wants to view it. Spending hours on the internet. Finding a house and then discovering it’s next to a major highway/an industrial estate/ a garden full of ancient trees with overhanging branches and invading roots. Fearing that you’ll never find a house that you really like. Fearing that your house will never sell (which is a real possibility at this time). Fearing that your house will sell and you’ll be stuck renting forever with half your furniture in storage because you’ll never find a house that you really like….

It’s awful. And occasionally exciting. And not at all conducive to Getting On with the next book.

But I must make myself put it all to one side and let myself sink into the imaginary world I’m supposed to be inhabiting. I must work out what’s going to happen next. Perhaps the characters could visit an Estate Agent?

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