Sincerely, Loree

Book Blurb

Tom Birkin, a damaged survivor of the First World War, finds refuge in the quiet village church of Oxgodby, where he is to spend the summer uncovering a huge medieval wall-painting. Immersed in the peace and beauty of the countryside and the unchanging rhythms of village life, he experiences a sense of renewal and belief in the future. Now an old man, Birkin looks back on the idyllic summer of 1920, remembering a vanished place of blissful calm, untouched by change, a precious moment he has carried with him through the disappointments of the years.

My Review

This is a wonderful little book with a great sense of time and place. The author writes beautifully about an era that is long since forgotten. His evocative descriptions conjure images of a bucolic existence that calms the senses and soothes away the weariness and irritability that seem to be a normal facet of modern existence. A Month In The Country is seeped with layers of nostalgia that remind us of a simpler, more wholesale time, when men who had been broken by the horrors of war, who had faced the hell that was Passchendaele and Flanders and the Somme, felt again the stirring of hope and a belief in themselves and their fellow men.

“The first breath of autumn was in the air, a prodigal feeling, a feeling of wanting, taking, and keeping before it is too late.”

This is not a plot driven story but it is a superb and satisfying read with moments of poignancy that will be appreciated by more mature readers. It is a story about an idyllic summer, a moment in time that will never be forgotten but which will never come again; an invitation to think back on our own past summers and to gather the memories, like beads on a bracelet, and hold them close to our hearts.

“We can ask and ask but we can't have again what once seemed ours forever—the way things looked, that church alone in the fields, a bed on a belfry floor, a remembered voice, the touch of a hand, a loved face. They've gone and you can only wait for the pain to pass."

From beginning to end I loved this gentle, tender book. I know it will be one that I return to when the woes of this modern world seem too hard to bear and I can look back at these contemporaries of my great-grandparents, trying to reach out across the chasm of time by letting the words of this book act as a bridge to that all but forgotten time.

I highly recommend this book. Please read it if you get a chance. You will not be disappointed.

Genre: historical fiction

First published: 1980

Location: Oxgody (fictional), England

Awards: Booker Prize Nominee (1980), Guardian Fiction Award (1980)

Goodreads rating: 4.12 ⭐

My rating: 4.9 ⭐

It was a beautiful spring day in late April when we visted Buda. The sun shone from a cornflower-blue sky and a pleasant wind playfully ruffled our hair. The conditions were perfect for exploring a new place and as soon as the tram set us down, I realised that Buda had its own charms which would have worked their magic on me even under a grey and stormy sky.

Unlike busy, hectic Pest, Buda felt like a peaceful backwater of cobbled streets, pastel houses and Gothic spires. Our wanderings didn't take us very far,  as we preferred to stay in the historic Castle District. So we walked and stopped to take photos, hundreds of them (no surprise there); we explored and did the things that visitors do: gazed in awe at the dazzling white loveliness of Matthias Church and spent too much time wandering around the delightful decorative fortification known as Fisherman's Bastion. From there we gaped at the stunningly beautiful Hungarian Parliament across the Danube in Pest. 

Then we walked a bit more. A little ways away we discovered a quiet park with more wonderful views and walked on a carpet of pink and lilac petals, strewn on the ground like confetti at a wedding. We were almost the only ones there and it felt so dreamy, especially when the bells of Matthias Church chimed out at noon.

A little later we discovered a church tower in which Rapunzel would have felt at home and I couldn't help being fascinated by the colourful mosaic tiles that decorated the slanting roofs of so many of the buildings in Buda. It's enchanting and slightly magical. The fairy-tale references were coming fast and hard in my head but I will spare you my comparisons of buildings in Buda to my childhood Ladybird books, illustrated with scenes that seemed to have been inspired by this fascinating city.

We ended the day in Buda Castle, the historical castle and palace of the Hungarian kings since medieval times. The castle complex is now dominated by the royal palace, a Baroque structure that was built in the mid-18th century. While much of the royal palace was destroyed during WW2, it was rebuilt in a simplified Stalinist Baroque style. While I admit to being slightly disappointed that I wasn't gazing at the same palace in which the Hungarian kings and, later, the Austrian Hapsburg emperors frolicked, the current edifice is still architecturally striking and imposing.

There is much to explore in the castle complex and a lot of history to take in but we had some other sights to see before the sun set. As we walked to our tram stop, I was struck again by the pretty colours of Buda, its rich and varied history, and the peaceful relaxed ambiance that made walking its colourful streets one of the main highlights of our visit. 

Location: Buda, Hungary

April 2023

Ten reasons I love autumn

1.  My creativity increases by 500%. Okay, that's slightly over the top but there's no denying that all the words that eluded me during the lethargic summers months now come pouring out of me and I'm loving it.
2. I can spend time gardening again without having to deal with pesky insects and copious amounts of perspiration.
   
   
   
3. It's cool enough to cook soups and pies. Although I used to avoid making soups no matter what the season was, I have now become a convert since they are so easy to make. The same goes for pies. If you use pre-prepared pastry (in my case kindly made by my dear mum) they can be prepared in a jiffy.
4. I can finally wear jeans again (an article of clothing that I completely avoid between June and September) and sweater weather is on the horizon. I love chunky knits. And beanies. How can I forget beanies?
   
   
   
5. That very peculiar smell of damp soil and decaying carob pods is back. It's not the most pleasant of smells but it's a very 'Maltese' autumn scent.
6. It's the perfect time to light our cinnamon, pumpkin or apple-scented candles. I absolutely love these:  Autumn Leaves and Spiced Pumpkin. Do you change your candles according to the season? It's something I started doing last year and I think it really enhances the mood inside our house. 
   
      
7. Life is back to an established routine. Summer is perfect for spontaneity but I prefer the more tempered days of autumn that are made even more special by cosy family evenings - which means I read non-stop curled inside a fluffy blanket.
8. I get to satisfy my craving for  Dead Man's Bones. Although this may sound alarming, Dead Man's Bones are a type of pastry made from a sweet dough with an almond filling that is traditionally eaten on or around the feast of All Souls' Day that is celebrated in different ways in many countries around the world, like La Fiera dei Morti in nearby Siciliy and the more famous La Dia de los Muertos in Mexico. A bit morbid, perhaps, but these sweet concoctions are delicious and a rare treat since they are not available year round.
   
   
   
9. The sea will be moody and temperamental again and I can spend time chasing waves.
10. Christmas, my favourite time of the year, with its plethora of activities and Christmas markets, is just round the corner. 
    

Book Blurb

I Am Forbidden is a multi-generational portrayal of family, faith and history which takes the reader across continents, from pre-war Transylvania to modern-day New York via Paris and England. This novel explores what happens when unwavering love, unyielding law and centuries of tradition collide.

Opening in 1939 Transylvania, five-year-old Josef witnesses the murder of his family by the Romanian Iron Guard and is rescued by a Christian maid to be raised as her own son. Five years later, Josef rescues a young girl, Mila, after her parents are killed while running to meet the Rebbe they hoped would save them. Josef helps Mila reach Zalman Stern, a leader in the Satmar community, in whose home Mila is raised as a sister to Zalman's daughter, Atara. With the rise of communism in central Europe, the family moves to Paris, to the Marais, where Zalman tries to raise his children apart from the city in which they live.

 Mila's faith intensifies, while her beloved sister Atara discovers a world of books and learning that she cannot ignore. A beautifully crafted, emotionally gripping story of what happens when unwavering love, unyielding law, and centuries of tradition collide, I Am Forbidden opens a startling window on a world closed to most of us.

My review

This book was a Goodreads recommendation so I went in without any expectations and ended up being blown away by the beauty of the writing. Everything about it ticked all the right boxes: the poetic, mesmerising style of its prose, the restrained nature of the narrative, the flawed by relatable, characters that the author was able to create with such conviction. I was in turns sad, angry and hopeful but the overall feeling I came away with was one of intense heartbreak: for Mila and Josef; for what was and what could have been. It is a book about dogma and traditions; about what is allowed and what is forbidden.

“We've always known that a marriage our parents approved meant giving up Paris and its bells.”

But it might not be for everyone. If you're a proud feminist, don't read this book. It will anger you. If you hate restrictive orthodox doctrine, don't read this book. It will make you feel trapped and powerless. But if you want to understand a different culture, one so different from what we are used to that you'd be forgiven for thinking it was all made up, then give this book a chance. It will shock you. It will break you into tiny pieces and devastate you, and then make you whole again. A different whole than before. One that is more open to other culture and beliefs. I Am Forbidden does what every good book should do. It challenges your status quo and ingrained misconceptions and shatters them forever.

“Mila found comfort in this ordered world where sin explained suffering.”

Genre: historical fiction

First published: 2012

Location: Szatmar, Romania; Paris, France; Brooklyn, New York

Awards: Jewish Quarterly-Wingate Prize Nominee (2014)

Goodreads rating: 3.69 ⭐

My rating: 5 ⭐

About the author

Anouk Markovits grew up in France, in an ultra-orthodox Satmar home. She attended a religious seminary in England instead of high school, and left the fold at the age of nineteen to avoid an arranged marriage. She went on to receive a bachelor of science from Columbia University, a master of architecture from Harvard, and a PhD in Romance Studies from Cornell. I Am Forbidden is her English Language debut. A more in-depth background about Anouk Markovits and the reason why she wrote this book can be found in Martha Schulman's article Inside Out: Anouk Markovits published in Publisher's Weekly (March 2012).

Even as a child, I always looked forward to September. It was the beginning of the end of summer when the days were still hot, but the nights were pleasantly cool. School, which started in October, still seemed ages away. I had my little band of friends. Our friendship was enough.

Some days, we played hopscotch or hide and seek. On other days, we would go to the seaside, armed with buckets and spades, flip-flops and straw hats. The beaches were almost deserted after Victory Day (September 08), so we had whole stretches of sand to ourselves. It was a glorious time. The sea was always restless, as errant breezes quietly ruffled its surface. There was a peace and a calmness that was only disturbed by the excited giggles of children drunk on the freedom of the last days of summer. We ate our ftira, filled with tomatoes and tuna, basil and mint, and almost made ourselves sick on bunches of sweet Maltese grapes (truly the best in the world).

I remember our beach umbrella, an exuberant 70s concoction of orange, red and white flowers on a bright blue background; the exciting combination of salty skin and sandy toes; the sun, huge and as orange as a pumpkin, lingering on the horizon - just seemingly long enough to dip its toes into the cerulean water that marked the boundaries of our existence.

Only the present was real. The future seemed very far away. It was the best of times - an idyll that would soon be shattered by the relentless march of time - a commodity that we had a surplus of back then.

Those days are long gone. The children have grown, and only the memories remain, memories of golden September days by the sea.

Thanks to Jeanne (again) for the inspiration. And thanks to my parents, for those wonderful days by the sea (and so much else).

Just some thoughts on why I think that beginning again is a good idea.

I want to drown myself in writing; wash myself with words. And instead I've been worrying whether anyone will read them. Tell me, does it matter? Are words less powerful when they fall inside a void? Or vanish into the abyss?

So, yes, I've decided that I will follow Jeanne's* lead and begin again. Just baby steps for now and, as we head towards autumn and cooler, kinder days, I hope that the inspiration and the words will flow. Like the endless ebb and flow of the sea. I've made too many mistakes in the past. Looked for ides from everywhere except from within myself; listened to everything except my heart. 

But now I think  I'm ready to begin again. To be kinder and gentler with myself and let the words come as they may. Yes, I think it's a wonderful idea.

So, please join me on this adventure. I have a feeling that this journey together will take us to some unexpected places. We will share beautiful moments from our lives and talk about the most extraordinary books that are waiting to be read. I'm quite excited to begin again; and what  better time than now, on the cusp of a new season?

*If you're reading this and you don't already follow Jeanne, make sure you visit her wonderful blog Tahilla Farm.

It's been a while. My resolution to share something once a week has been a miserable fail. The thing is, I seem to prefer spending my evenings reading rather than writing because I am usually tired and reading is a more passive activity, but when I'm writing I actually have to think. And then there's the urgent need to get the thoughts about my most recent read on paper, which takes up quite a bit of my time; coupled with the niggling feeling of inadequacy that raises its head every time I read a mind-blowing book. How can I ever compare? I know I don't need to. Because comparisons are odious and all that. But I don't seem to be able to stop myself. So, every so often, I start writing a post with the intention of finishing it and actually pressing the 'Publish' button. But, more often than not, I don't and it languishes in my 'Unpublished Posts' folder for ever.

Spring is here, a season I enjoy. My husband and I have made plans for a trip to celebrate our 20th anniversary that is coming up in June. I hope to share more about our trip later. We're also hoping to go on a family vacation in summer, preferably to a place that won't be too hot, like Ireland or Scotland, but we haven't really decided yet.

Easter Dessert

With Easter round the corner I've been looking for some easy but stunning cake recipes. We recently visited Guido's Spice Corner in Valletta. It is a tiny shop that sells a variety of spices, herbal teas and, more importantly for me, edible rose petals. I was really excited at the prospect of using them to decorate my Easter dessert. Novel items like edible flowers were hard to come by until fairly recently, so this is the first time I am using rose petals. I'm thinking of making one of the two cakes below and I hope they taste as good as they look.

Raspberries and cream cake with rose petals

Persian Love cake

Spring Walks

Spring Cleaning

Book review: The Stray Cats of Homs by Eva Nour, translated by Agnes Broomé

From the book blurb

Sami's childhood is much like any other - school with his friends, dinners with his family, playing with his pets (stray cats and dogs, and the turtle he keeps on the roof).

But with Syria at war with itself, nothing is really normal. And Sami's hopes for a better future are about to be ripped away.

Inspired by extraordinary true events, The Stray Cats of Homs is the breathtaking story of a young man who will do anything to keep the dream of home alive.

My review

We are all familiar with refugees, with people who flee conflicts and revolutions to seek shelter in distant lands. But The Stray Cats Of Homs is not a story about refugees. It is a story about those who decided to stay. 

If you are looking for a story with a complicated plot and lots of convoluted twists, then this book isn't for you. But if you want an insight into the Syrian revolution and how it affected ordinary citizens, then please give this book a try. Some parts are definitely not for the squeamish but it's a book that definitely needs to be read, especially by people like me who rarely watch the news or read the papers. My instinct when things get bad 'out there' is to cocoon myself and stay firmly inside my comfort zone. This book pushed me right out of it. It was poignant, heart-breaking, and horrifying, made even more so by the knowledge that this conflict isn't over yet.

Genre: modern historical fiction (Syrian civil war)

First published: 11 October 2018

Location of narrative: Homs, Syria; Paris, France

My rating: 4.8⭐

On birthdays

Three weeks ago, I celebrated my 52nd birthday. I am grateful for all the years given to me but can’t help feeling a bit sad from time to time about the fleeting passage of time. I am even more aware of it when I look at our son. He turned 17 just over a week ago. Next year he will no longer be considered a minor in the eyes of the law. In my eyes though, he is still the mischievous toddler trailing after me and talking incessantly about dinosaurs, volcanos, airplanes and trains. There are moments when I think I am ready to sell everything except my soul just to have one of those days back. But life never goes backwards, so I will look forward to the time ahead with excitement instead of trepidation. 

On reading

As I mentioned in my last post, I plan to read 23 books from 23 different countries this year. I don’t yet have 23 books from 23 different countries but I will get there. My goal for 2023 is a total of 40 books, so there is ample time for me to search for books from around the globe. You may think I’m crazy, but I’ve joined a ‘Read The World’ challenge that includes 196 countries from around the globe. The nice thing about this challenge is that you can start or finish whenever you like. So my start date is 2023 but I could continue this challenge until it is completed several years in the future. There are book suggestions for nearly every country (except for some countries that I have never even heard of). I am very excited about this and keep hunting for the more elusive countries whenever I am buying books. Up to now, I’ve ‘done and dusted’ three countries: Syria (The Stray Cats of Homs by Eva Nour – I will post a review of this remarkable book soon), the UK (The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro) and Greece (Ariadne by Jennifer Saint). For some reason, ticking countries off the list just makes me smile. I could cheat and add books I read in the past to increase my tally quicker, but I’ve never cheated in my life and don’t plan to start now. After all, this challenge gives me the perfect excuse to beg for, borrow or buy more books.

The perfect storm

After a very mild autumn, the first 4 weeks of winter were also quite warm and sunny. Then it turned cold on my birthday weekend (which was the perfect present) and has continued to be so. Last week though, storm Helios battered our shores. We had constant rain for 24 hours and gale-force winds. Friday was a public holiday and the sun came out for a while. My husband and I went for a walk along Dingli Cliffs, where I was scared the wind would blow us into the sea, and then spent some time reading in the car. The sunlight warmed it up and it was perfect for a while (although the wind kept buffeting and shaking our car). After some time, dark clouds started to form on the horizon and by the time we drove home, the rain started coming down again. People in Malta have got so unused to storms (we haven’t had a major one since 2019) that anytime one hits our shores, it becomes the main topic of conversation for at least 10 days. I wonder how we would all survive if the weather was bad a bit more frequently. Of course, I relished it and now I wonder whether we will get a few more storms before winter is over.

There are already quite a few signs of spring here in Malta. The daylight hours are, like everywhere else in the northern hemisphere, noticeably longer. Some wildflowers, like the crown daisy, yellow wall rocket and asphodel, are already blooming, while buds are starting to form on the giant fennel. Soon the garigue and the countryside will be humming with bees and that somnolent feeling which I always associate with spring will be in the air.

I want to try and keep my posts as short as possible because I know how busy life gets and I don’t want to take up more of your time than necessary (and I have to get back to my books :)). So that's all for this week except for one small question: I would like to write some posts about sustainable living and making simple environmentally-friendly choices but I wanted to know whether anyone would be interested. Thanks in advance for any feedback. 

Have a wonderful week.