Bill Bryson’s At Home: A Short History of Private Life is one of the most interesting, beautifully written and absorbing non-fiction books I have read in a long time. Recommended to me by two friends (thank you Katherine Howell and Jason!) who knew I was trying to get a handle on medieval houses and how they functioned, I quickly purchased this book and began to read it, not really knowing what to expect. What I didn’t anticipate was that I would be alternately enchanted, amused, bemused, shocked and thoroughly entertained.
Buying an old refectory in Norfolk, UK, one-day, Bryson starts to become extremely curious about the reason we do certain things or why certain behaviours have become normalised, if not ritualised, within the home (as one does 
). He ponders, as an example, about why salt and pepper, of all the spices and herbs available to us, are the ones given premium spot upon kitchen and dinner tables and are liberally sprinkled over food practically to the exclusion of all others. He considers why suits often have buttons sewn down the sleeve, serving no ostensible purpose but decorative. These types of questions lead him to move room by room through his house and investigate the history of its purpose and, in the process, discover many amazing facts about rooms, the people who inhabited them and what they did while in these (and many, many other things): in other words, investigate subjects, ideas and practices that we often take for granted.
What Bryson also does, and which makes this book so magical and fascinating, is explore a diverse range of tangential issues such as, when pondering the room known as “the study”, he discusses the sex life of rats; or, when considering ‘the bedroom’ we read about the way medicine was practiced in the past, shonk practitioners, childbirth, mortality rates, body-snatchers and share in part of the account of a woman in the 1800s who, I kid you not, had a mastectomy without an anaesthetic. From the dangers and beauty and expense of wallpaper, to arsenic, funerals, calico, cotton, and the miserable conditions of child labourers, to candles, gas, electric light, the invention of string, the cotton-gin and the push mower; from Queen Victoria, the Crystal Palace, Thomas Jefferson, Capability Brown, Beau Brummel and Charles Darwin, architects, high-class prostitutes, and labourers to princes, Bryson takes us on a whirlwind journey through time and space, introducing us to rich, wonderful and simply awful characters and practices as well. The etymology of words is also discussed, as are some of the less savoury habits of human beings, while many myths of the past are also debunked or upheld.
This is such an amazing and wonderful book. I kept savouring all the details, laughing out loud in some sections while inhaling sharply in others. I 
kept reading snatches aloud to my partner, who can’t wait to get his hands on the book and share my enthusiasm. I have no doubt he’ll be reading his favourite bits to me and, though I have just devoured them, I will delight in hearing them again.
This book is now up there with my all time favourites. Cannot recommend it enough – whether you’re a history buff, someone who loves to learn unusual facts or just after a great read, this is the book for you!
that marked her as a Tudor, she was already showing signs of the intellect and perspicacity for which she would become renown. In this novel, Weir chooses to focus on Elizabeth’s early years and adolescence against the backdrop of her father’s tempestuous marriages, other relationships and struggles with the church and his nobles. All the characters familiar from history appear only, this time, the reader sees them mainly through Elizabeth’s eyes, thus painting them in a new and often fascinating light.
commercialised one that was governed and taxed and, for a long period, thrived, to being ubiquitous across parts of the Northern hemisphere.
old lives in order to experience not just a sea-change but a cultural exchange, and in the process learn about themselves – generally, I love them. One of my favourite Venice stories is Marlena de Blasi’s 1000 Days in Venice and its sequel (just found out she has a new book out as well, set in Tuscany) – but there are many that recount the joys and sorrows of trying to fit into the elusive and sometime aloof society of Venice – a city that defies everything, including the imagination. The Venice Experiment is another in this genre and is the tale of Barry and his lovely wife, their dog and cat and the year they spend in the marvellous La Serenissima having moved from Florida.
roles into which the book is divided. Delightfully written, it explores the diverse period of almost six hundred years commonly referred to as ‘Medieval times’ examining life, death and everything in-between from a range of angles and points of view. As mentioned earlier, chapters focus on specific roles over this period such as ‘knight’, ‘monk’, ‘damsel’, ‘minstrel’, ‘king’ and ‘peasant’ to name a few. Jones also examines the origin of various myths such as Robin Hood, and presents the quite radical notion that outlaws were essential to effective governance during this time (the argument is a persuasive one!). Covering wars, religious beliefs and attitudes, secular ideologies, sex and professional and personal relationships, the book is packed with well-known facts, witticisms and some wonderful vignettes (eg. How a minstrel changed the world at the Battle of Hastings), and explanations such as why a particular branch of monks don’t wear underpants. Seeking to explain and debunk many of the myths and stereotypes that exist about the Middle Ages and the people that lived throughout this turbulent period, Jones does a stellar job. But, it is an overview and quite broad and sweeping and while it explains, for example, that Richard the Lionheart only spent six months of his ten year reign in England, it still adheres to the predominant view that the man was a bastard without looking at some of the revisionist work that has been done. This occurs a few times, where one side only about specific roles or famous individuals or even myths or tasks is given and other interpretations are shunted to the side. But that’s fine: this is, after all, Terry Jones’ Medieval Lives as the title says and he’s well within in his rights to provide his version. A damn fine one it is too that I enjoyed very much! There is also a BBC series based on this (or vice-a-versa) which I will now make a point of tracking down.
omewhat eccentric community and the gorgeous house that, according to locals, needs a writer and, particularly a Tatlow, to bring it to life. Once the home of Sadie’s grandmother, the infamous children’s author, Pearl Tatlow, Sadie knows little about her relative except that her mother adored her and what she can glean from the children’s books her grandmother wrote and the snippets of delicious scandal that follow in Pearl’s wake. The other certainty that rightly unnerves Sadie and Betty is that Pearl was brutally murdered in the cellar of Poet’s Cottage – a death that seems to have leached into the very foundations and walls of the house itself. As the killer was never found and Pearl’s presence lingers, not only in the house, but in the memories (written and otherwise) of many of the villagers, Sadie determines to unravel the mystery of her grandmother’s death and try and resolve the conflicting stories she’s told about Pearl Tatlow: which was she? Adored mother and talented writer, whimsical, imaginative and warm? Or a selfish seductress and abusive mother and wife who cared for little but herself? Sadie must delve deeply to find the truth, crack open the shell of lies and fabrications to reveal the real woman behind the shiny, beauteous facade. Pearl is, in this regard, aptly named: she is either a precious thing buried beneath layers of grimy history and skewed familial and local stories or she is merely a broken promise, an empty shell devoid of depth. There are risks to this kind of search for the truth as Sadie is about to find out…
she turns 29, and her workaholic mother and one of her brothers fail to show for a planned celebration dinner due to work commitments, it appears as though her ambitions are about to be realized. That is, until she discovers she’s made a terrible and very costly mistake. Walking away from her job, central London, her barely lived-in flat, long hours, no holidays or time for the self, where every second is accounted for and answering mobiles and blackberries mid conversations and meetings is the norm, Samantha stumbles into the countryside and the lives of a nouveau-riche couple, landing the job of their housekeeper even though, she cannot cook, clean or iron. As improbable as this sounds, she also discovers that she enjoys these things as she also learns what it’s like to relax, have time to think and socialize and simply be. And, of course, as you would expect in a Bridget Jones’ style rom-com, she meets a man. Is he Mr Right? Perhaps now, she has the time to find out. But when her past comes back to bite her, Samantha has to make a choice….
object or person they were near, holding or with when the bombs detonated. Called collectively, by those in the Dome, ‘wretches’, there are also those who survive against all odds, less human and more part of the deformed fauna of blasted landscape: the Dusts and Groupies etc. Scrabbling to simply exist, the wretches live among the ruins of civilization, eking out a life and establishing suspicious communities, surrendering to rules and the hierarchy of those who keep them in order. It’s not a brave new world so much as a crazed one.
I confess I’m a long time fan of Kate Forsyth’s work ever since I read the The Witches of Eileanan and sent my first email ever to an author to express my appreciation. I know the high standards Kate sets and that which her readers have come to expect and what a marvellous storyteller she is, even so, this did not prepare me for the experience of reading Bitter Greens. Quite simply, this is an outstanding, mesmerizing book that is one of the finest works of historical fiction I have read.
porary culture – Grimm and Disney. Forsyth has eschewed these and returned to earlier and darker source material and in doing so, given the novel a veracity and depth that is simply breathtaking. The detail of French court life, of the nunnery, and the way she brings Venice of that time to life is deftly done, never detracting from the plot of character development. In the acknowledgments you read about the translations Forsyth commissioned and the trips she took as research for her novel. They were well worth it and as someone who has both researched and taught the history and signifance of fairytales and myths at university, I would love to read her thesis when it’s complete.