Review; Rebecca- Daphne Du Maurier

Publication Date: August 1938

Publisher: Victor Gollancz

My partner bought me a beautiful edition of Rebecca on a trip to Bath for my birthday a couple years ago and its been sitting pretty on my shelf til LadiesOfHorrorFiction.com announced their November read along last year.

Having never participated in one before I hadn’t realised read alongs are typically spread over a period of time making it achievable for any schedule. This didn’t work for me. I can’t read more than one book at once and I couldn’t spend an entire month on just the one so I read it all at once and somehow managed to miss all of the discussions.
BUT atleast I finally read it! Thanks to LOHF.

Now here’s what I thought.. Continue reading “Review; Rebecca- Daphne Du Maurier”

Series To Finish 2019- Sign Up & TBR

Here it is! I’m a little late as always, but finally sat down to sign up to my most anticipated reading challenge of 2019- Series To Finish! Hosted by Anna @ Reader and Proud, you can find the OP right here.. #SeriesTF2019 Continue reading “Series To Finish 2019- Sign Up & TBR”

My Perfect Library

Imagine you could construct your very own personal library with zero restrictions on finance or location. Every one has a different idea of perfect, I decided to write a post about my imaginary library and I’d love to hear about yours too.
Read on for my considerations and feel free to tag me in your own Perfect Libraries.

Location
Where does the sun set here? Is it the west? I dunno. Facing in the correct direction is a full wall of bay windows and a set of french doors to throw open in summer. We’re overlooking a countryside of hills and trees. No pylons, no buildings, no traffic. Just nature.
I’ll need a heavy blackout curtain for reading spooks in the daytime.

Seating
I’m a fidgeter, and my choice of position depends on the current atmosphere of the book. To cater to all these needs there would be a cosy oversized armchair by an open fireplace- of course, window seats, an oversized bean bag and a teepee in one corner filled with cushions. I considered a hammock but if I’m being honest I am way too clumsy for that.
Instead I’ll place a porch swing on a small patio outside for the summer.

Lighting
Since I’m dreaming I may aswell be extra and have a chandelier with a dimmer switch. Of course there’s also the non negotiable ornate lamp standing beside the cosy armchair or just the glow of a fire burning.

Sound
NO BLOODY SEAGULLS. My library isn’t near the sea, but then again neither is my house and yet all I ever hear is the squawking of those awful sky-rats. No ticking clocks or shouty neighbours either.
The only sounds at this library are songbirds, crickets and the occasional unseen farmyard animal, maybe the rustle of wind through the trees.

Scent
Books! I’m not really sure what exactly that smell consists of, but in my mind it’s wood and old paper. There’s a hint of vanilla too, it reminds me of cosy nights at home.

Snacks
In my perfect library there is an endless supply of my favourite pairings. Salted pretzels and Cherry Cola, fresh berries and Zinfandel Rose Wine, Chocolate Hobnobs and builders Tea, Iced Water and green apples. A food for every mood! Did I forget to mention the never ending supply of Ben & Jerry’s icecream?

Bookshelves
The shelves are rustic oak, fitted across every spare inch of wall space, with ornate iron sliding ladders fitted on each wall. (Who doesn’t live to recreate the iconic Belle in the library scene?)
The top shelf of every bookcase displays collectables relating to the titles below.

Organisation
There’s got to be a system in my enormous hypothetical library. As aesthetically pleasing as it would be to sort by colour, I fear the time it would take me to locate specific choices. For the sake of my logical brain the books are to be sorted first by genre, then author, then colour (or release order for series of course). Here’s the spin, the library will also be split into one side of finished books and one side To-Be-Read.

Thudding back to reality, my actual library doubles as my terribly unorganised dressing room and study. There’s one window facing the neighbours houses and the only seat is a small stool under my perpetually messy vanity table. But still, it’s mine.

Could you envision my perfect library? What does yours look like?

Finding Closure on Paternal Abandonment

An origin story.
How to accept what you cannot forgive.

I had an epiphany, one that’s been years and years in the making. I’ve been debating over sharing it on the blog for quite a while and decided- hey, why not. I’ve written this for me but who knows, maybe it might be helpful to someone else. I know I could’ve benefited by reading a post like this sooner.

This is much more personal than anything I’ve shared before, and honestly I don’t want any sympathy because the point is- I’m okay.

—————

My father was irresponsible, selfish, cowardly, greedy, an habitual liar and let’s be honest, a criminal. He was a drink-driver, a low key drug dealer, a petty thief, an abusive husband and a gambling addict. Paul was a dictionary of vices, he probably still is.

The problem, or maybe solution, is that my grandfather fits the exact same description perfectly.

Paul’s childhood was much, much worse than my own. His home life affected his education which might have hampered his chances of bettering himself. So Paul became his father. BUT, this does not negate the damage he has done to me. Understanding and forgiving are two different things. Whilst I accept the reasons he became the man he was I can’t abide his lack of effort to change.

Paul knows and consciously chooses to behave as he did/does. He never tried to make reparations for his mistakes, instead he would try to lie and manipulate his way out of any wrong-doing. I’ve never seen him do anything that didn’t benefit himself. Never.

I cannot imagine being a parent and putting myself first. I just wouldn’t.
Paul was not fit to be my father, and I don’t think he really wanted to be. I don’t think he really wanted any children at all. Paul didn’t want to put anyone else before himself, and he never has, I was just part of the nest he built to fall back on. I’m sure he loved me in some sort of way -as a product of himself, just not enough to prioritise my needs above his own. I don’t think he’s ever loved anyone more than himself.

At a very early age I started overtaking Paul in terms of education, he started to become less proud and was intimidated. He said he didn’t know how to talk to me anymore and after that his sole attention turned to my brother. That’s where the bond first broke. As I aged he became smaller in my mind, insignificant. I could see through his lies and he knew it. I wasn’t fun to be around now that he couldn’t fool me, so he gave up entirely. I was almost 12 years old.

Paul resurfaced in my life when I was 16 because he saw a chance to make himself look good. He wasn’t concerned I had moved out of my mothers house, he just wanted the glory of coming to my rescue. I clung on to him til I was 18 because I thought blood was important.
By this point I already had a great father figure in my step-dad and Paul was just a tie to the family I thought I had to be part of, but blood is just circumstance.

I’ve been so angry at him for so long because he is weak and selfish.
My brother and I had rough times but everything Mum did was for us and everything she and (step)Dad do/did since then more than compensates for those rough times- that’s real parenting.
People make mistakes, I make mistakes.
Paul doesn’t make mistakes, he makes choices. Choices I cannot stomach.

So maybe his upbringing started it, I’m going to give him a little sympathy and understanding for that. What happened after is and always will be his own fault. I don’t think he was purposely doing damage, I don’t think he has ever considered the impact of his actions on anybody around him.

I accept he was a bad parent, but he isn’t my parent now. His actions don’t impact me anymore, that’s how I wanted it and that’s how he wanted it. I’m giving him a get-out-of-jail-free card.

I’m somebody else’s daughter now.

Book Review; Confessions- Kanae Minato

confessions minato

Translated by Stephen Snyder

Publication date: August 2014

Publisher: Mulholland Books

**********

When Yuko Moriguchi’s four-year-old daughter died in the middle school where she teaches, everyone thought it was a tragic accident.

It’s the last day of term, and Yuko’s last day at work. She tells her students that she has resigned because of what happened – but not for the reasons they think.

Her daughter didn’t die in an accident. Her daughter was killed by two people in the class. And before she leaves, she has a lesson to teach… Continue reading “Book Review; Confessions- Kanae Minato”