Middlefocus

I very much appreciate Sebastian Barry's writing, a feeling that has only grown stronger after hearing him speak at an author event some years ago. Whenever one of his titles appears, it goes straight onto my "to be read" pile. For some reason, although I purchased them, I have never got around to reading his American Civil War series. As a result, when NetGalley offered me an ARC of The Newer World, his latest book, I wondered whether I was approaching things back to front. Would my enjoyment of this novel be diminished by not having read the previous ones? I needn't have worried. I enjoyed it immensely as a standalone novel. The opening chapter drew me immediately into what I thought was going to be a particular story. Then, quite matter-of-factly, that apparent beginning was set aside and a different path emerged. Brilliant. I loved that. The publisher’s description of the novel promised a multi-layered character who in the person of Tennyson Bouguereau – “ a ...

Curious, I stopped in front of this object embedded in a wall. A box, of course but for what purpose?   My initial reaction was that it was for letters but there is no opening through which to post them. My attention moved to the central keyhole - without a handle this appears to be the sole means of opening and closing the box. It is visibly old with its aged yellow surround like an aura smudged at its centre with traces of red and blue. Distressed and much weathered, the name of the manufacturer is worn or overpainted and so not quite visible. Although recessed, the box stands out from its surrounding gaining prominence from the black background. It sits on a band of blue, separated from another at the base. Curlicues painted black and orange on a red background reprise the ornate scroll work at the top of the box. I am curious about this. Does the key still exist? Does it work? How many copies of it are there? And I am curiouser still about its purpose. If not letters then wh...

  I nearly walked past this shrub earlier on.  I'm glad I didn't because a little while later this natural occurence had disappeared. A mist of web and raindrops had cloaked the plant. Entrapment by spiders surely to lure in unwary insects. The strategy reminded me a little of the Sirenes singing in the Ulysses epic. So as not to yield to the tempting invitation the hero in that story had himself bound to the ship's mast while the sailors had their ears blocked with wax so they couldn't hear the fateful song. It succeeded in the story but I am not sure how it worked out for the insects or the spiders in the shrub. I cannot really criticise the insects for falling prey. It's part of the natural cycle of things. And anyway, I stopped to investigate so I guess I too fell for the strategy. Glad I stopped and paid attention though. Would have "mist" it otherwise. Have you had a similar experience? Spotted any other of nature's fatal attractions?

One of my favourite "curious openings" snapped on a trip to Granada, Andalucia, Spain back in 2023.  I remember that I spotted it and returned to take the picture. I wondered then and have wondered since why such a lovely door received so much graffiti attention.  You will see the starred handle easily enough but the keyhole is tiny. It seems out of proportion with the stature of the door. I wonder who passes through the opening and what stories lie behind.  Were the inhabitants present when the "artists" went to work? Did they hear the spray can hiss and splatter?  Or did they return home to find the damage done?  Was it one night's work or spread over time?  A recurrent problem? Was the apparent sturdiness of the door the very thing that drew the antisocial behaviour?   Curious indeed.

I have physical copies of all of Donal Ryan's books, so when NetGalley offered me an advance reader copy of Where Are the Kings for review, I jumped at the chance.  The title immediately intrigued me.  Was a question mark missing? A glance at the dedication page deepened the mystery.  There was an extract from WB Yeats's On Baile's Strand, depicting someone fighting "crowns" on the waves amid cries of "Where are the kings?" The passage hints at struggle, grief and perhaps even madness—elements that resonate throughout the novel. Just a few minutes into the first chapter, I read: “There doesn't have to be a reason for crying. 
Sometimes crying just starts itself up in a person, and the person has no control of it.” This is our young protagonist, 12-year-old Jack, watching his mother. What a premise. 
Why is she crying?  I'm hooked.  This, surely, would be a novel exploring emotions, most likely of grief. 
 And it is - Jack, the good boy of chapter...