Review: "The Last Family in England" by Matt Haig

Matt Haig has solidified himself among my go-to authors, especially when I need a dose of the profound, of something that affirms life without forgetting to validate its struggles.

There aren’t really any books so far I have read by him that disappointed me, although with How to Stop Time he has set himself a benchmark of genius that will be hard to beat.

The Last Family in England he wrote, as he said, after his breakdown – writing, I fully agree, is an incredible therapeutic tool – and he clearly poured the intensity of is experience at the time into this. It’s now being re-released, with a gorgeous new cover to match the design of his previous masterpiece.

It’s an unusual story, to be sure, narrated by the family dog, Prince, a Labrador, who is utterly devoted to his family. I adored the background story of a code of ethics, practiced by Labradors, but ignored for the sake of self-gratification by other breeds, to the point of ridicule.

Prince’s family is in trouble. It’s an accelerating clusterf**k of considerable proportions affecting and involving all family members, to the point of tragedy and utter heartbreak (without being soppy, oh I love how Matt Haig does it)… and poor Prince has tasked himself to what he considers his duty – keeping the family together and happy, consulting his mentor, another Lab, who patiently instructs him in all ways the code entails. But difficulties keep coming, and they even come from places Prince never expected.

I thought it a perfect parable on religion, on its function, appeal and failings – how you can follow instructions to the letter with the best intentions without being guaranteed a desired outcome… and how to come to terms with not having all the answers, with life not going your way, but that doing your best, even if it’s not enough, is sufficient.

While that sounds utterly depressing, it is actually liberating. Your heart will ache after reading this, but feel fuller and wiser, and perhaps even a little bit more prepared for it.

Lots of Pupper Love,

Patty

Review: Bastardography by Simon Jay

I'm not usually a fan of autobiographies. It takes skill to write something as personal as that without producing either self-aggrandising tripe or sensationalist misery memoirs. But once in a while one comes along that stops you dead in your tracks. And this is one of them.
I plowed through it in less than a day; I was hooked from page 1.

Obviously I would be somewhat biased. Some of you may remember Simon as a bookseller in our shop in the second half of 2012. A fine bookseller indeed he was, but the talent doesn't end there. He's been a writer and actor since childhood, always thinking up tales, plays, always performing - and doing it well. As long as I have known him - which is nigh 9 years now - he has been frantically, feverishly producing, creating, making things, a productivity that I envied much, compared to my own sluggish endeavours, but took equal inspiration from. Last year he took his Donald Trump satire show Trumpageddon to the Edinburgh Fringe Festival where it sold out continuously through its month-long run, with reviews featured in the Scotsman and Guardian. Not too shabby, eh?

What I only gradually became aware of over the years (and only fully so after reading his book) was that his frenzied productivity served a bigger purpose than just being a creative outlet. Many creative people will tell you that it's a way of exorcising their demons - for Simon it literally became a lifesaver. 

Considering that Simon Jay has lived through incredibly dark and painful moments and struggled with serious mental distress, this book could have easily become self-indulgent – a “Not with the scissors, Daddy” type of book, as he describes it.
Instead, it is a candid, intelligent, self-deprecating (in a good way) and at the same time darkly hilarious account of his struggle with depression, anxiety and Borderline Personality Disorder symptoms, exacerbated by realising early on that he is gay while growing up in an entirely homophobic, bullying environment. It makes a harrowing read more often than not, but then he’ll throw in a bizarrely funny or wry comment or description that will reduce you to mad (and not entirely guilt-free) cackles, which reminded me much of the writing of Caitlin Moran, Jeanette Winterson and Augusten Burroughs.

"Bastardography" is not just a heartbreaking meditation on the experience of mental illness but also an acerbic commentary on society’s prevailing homophobic attitudes, dished out mindlessly without a thought for the psychological damage it causes. At the same time it is liberating and downright inspiring to see how Simon relentlessly fought his illness by channelling it creatively – into writing, acting, theatre and any tool possible – and finally found, and continues to find redemption through it. 

It reads as if Quentin Crisp had written “Girl, Interrupted”, roughed up by Shane Meadows’ grit, and pitch black surreal humour massaged into the scrapes. 

I've known Simon for years, but his book opened up a whole new level of him. I knew of things that happened, but not the extent of it, and reading it left me shaken, devastated, but with a new level of admiration for him. You don't need to know him personally to adore this book - his wit, his quirky and at times even surreal charm, his strength and warmth and honesty will win you over. "Bastardography" has, to me, been a balm, an acknowledgement and encouragement, and helped me to accept and continue to deal with my own mental illness, rather than being consumed by it,  in a constructive way. 

With bookish love,

Patty

Simon in 2012 at a book event in our store. 

Simon as Donald Trump at the Edinburgh Fringe 2016

Review: The Recovery Letters

The Recovery Letters fell into my lap just at the right time. Coming out of a personal crisis, these letters have been a lifesaver for me - written by people who have been through the same mind-bending horror of depression, but who got through it and who have got the clear mind and experience talking sense to me when my own head is too clouded with despair to think straight. Validating, compassionate, personal, heartfelt - along with Matt Haig's Reasons to Stay Alive, this is a balm and a must-read title for sufferers. 

Dip in and out of it or read it from cover to cover, and mark your favourite letters to be ready for the next onslaught.

Sweet, delicious Prozac in book form.

Out 21/7/17.

Wishing you well and happy,

Patty x

When Featherbones took flight

"That's what it means to be mad. To be stripped of meaning, stripped so bare you feel like the skin's been torn from your back and you're just bones. Bare bones and nerves, stuck out in the cold, where it stings, it burns like nothing you've felt before." 

FEATHERBONES

Well, we were definitely mad with joy on a horrifically drenched Saturday in February when the delightful Thomas Brown from Madley Park, Witney, and former Woodgreen School student, joined us to present us his latest baby, novel number 2, Featherbones. 

The initial reading was a fine sample, but to truly appreciate the prose, the rhythm of the tale and the blurring of reality and Felix's delusions, you really need to read the whole thing! (hint hint) 

After, Thomas revealed to us about his inspirations for the novel, which include the amazing artist Kate MccGwire and her creepy yet beautiful feathery sculptures, author Poppy Z. Brite, Clive Barker and Marilynne Robinson's watery imagery from Housekeeping.

The shop was absolutely packed, both with

people and a happy buzz. 
Many thanks to all who came and made this day as wonderful as it was. And thank you to our own bookseller Matt! for climping lofty heights to get some good photos. 
We totally sold out, but fear not, more are to come.

- Love, Patty 

Book Launch of Thomas Brown's Featherbones

One of the greater pleasures of running a bookshop is to receive the honour of hosting a book launch. It doesn't happen very often, which makes the times when it does happen all the sweeter. 
    Launching a book is a little bit like the baptism of a baby. I wouldn't call it a birth - it would take away from the labour of love, pain, frustration, elation, white heat frenzy followed by staring helplessly at a blank screen, unable to form a single sentence, until suddenly that sentence is ready to be born and bursts out of you, and this happens about a million times where you take all these images and moments and scenes and weave them into a tapestry of narration, in which the aim is to never let the reader see your technique but to create the illusion of an alternate reality so seamlessly that characters become alive and sceneries burst with a life of their own. 

Most writers can quite possibly relate to that type of birth - it can take months, even years. But all the pains will be forgotten as soon as you hold your baby in your arms. Letting go of a book is often like letting your kid go out into the world, perhaps never completely happy or comfortable with it, but there it goes. 

Hosting a book launch is like having a party: to welcome the kid, to celebrate the efforts of its parent, to appreciate the beauty of the finished work and marvel at the complexity of its creation. 

So we at Waterstones Witney are delighted to invite everyone to the baptism of Featherbones, the wonderful brain child of Witney author Thomas Brown.

Please join us on Saturday, 13th February, from 1-3 pm, for a reading, a Q&A session, signing and general merriment with snacks, cake and drinks.

If you ever wanted to chat to an author about writing, his inspiration and his way to getting published, now is the opportunity. 
Plus, a party at a bookshop? Come on! It doesn't get better than this! 

Some of you may remember the launch of Mr Brown's first book Lynnwood, back in June 2013, which was a wonderful experience for everyone involved. Mr Brown's dark tale of the primal appetites of a small New Forest village was since shortlisted for the People's Book Prize.

His second novel again deals with the darker side of the human soul. It is an intricately woven tale of a young man's slow mental unravelling as he tries to come to terms with not just a traumatic incident in his childhood, but the very nature of his being. At times, the story is hard to take, as the bleakness and loneliness of the protagonist infiltrates your heart like a cold fog - unlike in other tales, his struggle is not romanticised or sentimentalised, despite the stunning beauty of the prose. 
Leaving the reader defenseless in Felix's increasingly unhinged mind, it begins to blur the lines between nightmare and waking, between reality and delusion, employing all the senses... all the while Felix's ordinary life continues.
Featherbones, with it's mythological elements and intense symbolism mixed into a bleak reality, reminded me much of Patrick Ness' A Monster Calls or Stephen King's Rose Madder - but just as if Susan Hill or Angela Carter had written it. 

We do hope you'll be able to join us. 

Lots of love, 

Patty