Review Watching Swifts by RJ Askew

I came across this review yesterday. Ron Askew is an old friend of mine from Authonomy days, and Watching Swifts is my favourite modern piece of poetic prose. I’ve read it and re-read it, and it lies permanently stored on my kindle. Lucy’s review prompted me to contact Ron again – I’m delighted to announce that he will be featured on my blog in August. Meanwhile, if you havent read Watching Swifts, and even if you dont really like cities (like me), you will love this evocative piece set in the middle of London.

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cover Watching Swifts

Reviewed by Lucy Pireel

This book is one of those that keeps popping back in your mind. Prose and verse, or verse written as prose entwined with verse.

I was drawn into the mind and world of the swift man. This author has the rare ability to capture his reader with a form of prose which keeps you wanting more. I had to know what happened with him, his antagonist (the female photographer he’s talking to) and the swifts. Yes, the swifts, those lovely birds, the harbingers of summer and hope for better times. When things ended different from any ‘regular’ novel would I was actually glad. I felt happy for the swift man, the swift, and the gardener, I felt sorry for the photographer who inadvertently lost her chance of life anew. Or had she?

The form this novel is written in allows for a play in the head…

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Challenges

Image of John Holt

John Holt is my guest today. I have known him from my Authonomy days, and appreciated his support during the prolonged journey of BREATH OF AFRICA up their ladder to Gold Medal status. He is a prodigious writer – it’s almost as if there’s something driving him. And he spends considerable time trying to promote his books, yet he is always there to answer questions, offer useful advice, and lend support to fellow authors.

John is the first person to admit his books are in need of a good edit – yet his stories and plots keep you on the edge of your seat. Perhaps one day, you will attract a publisher, John. You certainly deserve it.

And now I understand what drives John … which makes me admire him the more.

“CHALLENGES”

Jane asked me if I would like to be a guest on her blog sometime. Thinking that as a guest I just needed to sit around, and look pretty, Jane would ask some simple questions, and I would just give some clever answers, and that would be that. Job done. So I agreed. I said that I would be delighted.

Then Jane dropped the bombshell –  What about a piece on the challenges of your life? You could have knocked me down with a feather. Challenges of my life, who on earth would be interested? We all have our troubles don’t we? And there’s always someone worse off isn’t there? Whether it money worries, or the lack of it; personal problems at home; problems at work; disputes with your neighbour; or maybe problems with your health. We all have problems, and certainly to us they are most important, and affect us the most. We read about other people’s problems with mild interest, because it doesn’t affect us. Oh, occasionally some story or other may strike home, but those events are, generally, quite rare.

So I ask again, who would be interested in my challenges? Well I would for a start, but there you might have expected that. My friends? Yes hopefully they might have an interest, not that they could do anything to help. No, that’s not correct, they offer support, advice, or simply make an enquiry. “How are you?”, “Is there anything I can do?” That, at least, shows concern.

So now to me, my challenges. Well let me see. My health is my main problem I suppose. To be precise I have to go back approximately one year ago:

“You have a cancer,” a voice said. I wondered who was speaking, but more importantly who were they talking about. “I’m sorry but the blood test shows a fairly aggressive cancer,” the voice went on. “We will need to do a biopsy, but I think it will only confirm what I suspect.”

Who was this character who kept on and on, and who was he talking to? I looked around the consulting room. There were two people only, myself and my GP.

“So Mr Holt, I’ll arrange for you to see an oncologist as soon as possible.”

As Robert Niro famously said in one of his films, “You talkin’ to me?” Answer, yes he was talking to me.

“But I don’t have any of the symptoms,” I protested.

“Many don’t,” was the simple reply.

A short time later the biopsy did indeed confirm I had Prostate Cancer, with a Gleason value of 8 out of 10. (No that’s not a good score, that’s bad 10 is the highest). Next there came a Bone Scan to make sure that it hadn’t spread. It hadn’t. Then there was an MRI scan to show the position of the cancer precisely. That was alright, very noisy, but not a problem.

Next came the specialists. Firstly the Surgeon who recommended I had an operation. It would all be over in a short while, but it was quite involved.

“But I don’t have any of the symptoms,” I protested once again.

“Many don’t. Are you allergic to anything?”

“Pain and needles,” I replied.

On the face of it surgery did not appeal that much, and quite frankly I didn’t like the Surgeon. Next I saw the Oncologist. A seven and a half week course of radiotherapy was recommended, every week day for seven and a half weeks, a three minute dose of radiation. Oh and injections every twelve weeks for three years.

“But I don’t have any of the symptoms,” I protested.

In January I started the course and had my last session on 21 March. I recently had another blood test and it seems that the therapy has worked. The cancer is still there but greatly reduced. My sincere thanks to the Oncologist and every one at the clinic I attended. Cannot praise them too highly.

Then what happened about ten weeks ago? I injured my knee. Strapped up and on crutches for I don’t know how long. But that’s another story. Talking about stories you might care to take a look at my novels:

They are all available on amazon; “Epidemic” is also available on Nook and Kobo

The Kammersee Affair

The Mackenzie Dossier (Kendall)

The Marinski Affair (Kendall)

Epidemic (Kendall)

A Killing In The City (Kendall)

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Nominated for The Guardian First Book Award!

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Yes, folks! I’m so excited, but –  I know it’s only a nomination, and the short list will be published at the end of July.

Guardian First Book Award

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African Magic

Ailsa has done it again! After her first popular contribution to my blog, on MAGIC, I have been so looking forward to this one, especially as it relates to BREATH OF AFRICA. And nobody will be disappointed. I will say no more…

I am grateful to Jane for inviting me to contribute this piece as it is a subject which has interested me for a while and served as a good reason to do a lot of research. That said, I had no idea how much research would be needed.

The problem with reporting on traditional African magic is that it is inextricably bound up with the original religions of the various areas. Just as the Romans’ reports on Druidism are unreliable and biased, most of the second hand knowledge we have of African beliefs and traditions come through the medium of Christian missionaries who, understandably, were not going to be well-disposed towards the subject.

There appears to be a thread emerging throughout, however, and that while in other communities the shaman or witch doctor would undertake most of the spiritual duties for his or her village, the African system divided the tasks up into religious, healing and rain-making. I will admit to having a “face-palm” moment when I read that. Well, of course! While we Northern pagans were begging the sun to come back to ensure a good harvest, the people of Sub-Saharan Africa would be more concerned in making sure that the essential rains arrived! Duuh!

Ratho Kroonkop

Rising 1,000 feet (300 meters) above the ground the hilltop site of Ratho Kroonkop, in South Africa, was used by shamans to perform rainmaking rituals centuries ago.

In common with many other animist (shamanistic) practices world-wide, illness both mental and physical, is attributed to evil spirit possession which must be exorcised by the witch doctor. As so many African countries have now managed to mingle old customs with their conversion to Christianity, it is not difficult to see why modern-day African churches continue the practice long after the Catholic church became embarrassed about using it (although the Vatican still has a Chief Exorcist). My personal view is that this is a form of magic and it is important to understand that the exorcists sincerely believe that their actions are for the eventual good of the “possessed” even though the tortures inflicted on them seem indefensible to Western eyes (and before throwing stones we should all consider the Inquisition and other barbaric institutions). It becomes a minefield, therefore to comment on exorcism, spirit possession and other traditions still practised by Africans and those of African descent.

Having realised that “African Witchcraft” would be a reference book and not an article and would take me several years to write, I decided to concentrate on the magic Jane Bwye cites in her own book “Breath of Africa”, having the great good fortune to chat to my aunt who worked in The Gold Coast for many years. As soon as I mentioned magic she burst out laughing and replied,

“Oh yes, nothing ever happened without the consent of the ju-ju man and the price of him being on your side was at least a bottle of whisky! People were terrified of them and would not go against them at all.”

My own observation is that a witch, shaman’s or ju-ju man’s power rests in the perceived power vested in them by their community. Yes, it is perfectly possible to convince a “victim” that they are going to die because they have been cursed. A visible sign (in this case, the all embracing “black powder” of unknown origins) helps enormously. A symbol drawn outside a person’s house, a dead chicken found hanging from their porch, even a burning cross outside their house…we have all heard of these. If everyone knows that this is the end, you are marked for death, then it will work; just as if the local healer tells you that you will get better and you believe in their efficacy, you will get better. Think of “take up your bed and walk” – a cripple skips off with his sleeping mat under his arm!

Giving up the will to live? Surely not! Oh yes, I think in romantic literature it was known as dying of a broken heart.

I was also fascinated by the fact that Jane shows the inter-relationship between the hexer and the cursed one. Nothing comes for free. Receiving a bottle of whisky or a carton of cigarettes in exchange for a victim’s life doesn’t alter the rules of karma. This is why modern witches have to be convinced of the rightness of the case and even then will think long and hard about what kind of spell to cast. Binding (causing them to be able to do no more wickedness against the client) or mirroring (sending back exactly their own amount of mischief, no more, no less) is in most cases preferable to thunderbolts and lingering death, no matter how much we may want feel like doing that.

In her novel, the originator of the spell is finally caught up in the unjustness of his cause and suffers the penalty, which is right and proper. The message may be “leave karma to the Universe, you get on with your own life” and it is a timely reminder for us all.

***

Ailsa Abraham is the author of  Shaman’s Drum

Digital Camera

It is a novel dealing with pagan magic, which has been nominated for the People’s Choice Book Award. You can vote for it on the page.

Published by Crooked Cat Publishing, it is available there in ebook format.

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Also available in paperback or e book on Amazon.

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Writing Comedy

S. E. England (595x842)

I am delighted to welcome Sarah England as my guest this week. She is a versatile writer, having published around 140 short stories, mostly in national magazines and various anthologies; and most recently a 3 part detective serial in Woman’s Weekly. She has also released ‘3am and Wide Awake’  – a collection of 25 thrillers, many supernatural or medically based.

Her first novel, Expected, is a comedy just launched by Crooked Cat Publishing

Expected

Sarah lets us into some of her secrets about writing comedy…

As a short story writer I seem to gravitate to either the supernatural, or comedy. It’s a bizarre whizzing from one end of literary genre to the other – like an out of control typewriter. However, with a 20 year + background in nursing and medical sales, specialising in mental health, I suppose it is inevitable that the old gallows humour creeps in. I’m a Northern lass too – and there’s an in-built armour of self-deprecation pertinent to the environment in which I grew up: no one is allowed to take themselves too seriously.

So when I began to write fiction, around 8 years ago now, many of my stories were humorous.  I’m also the kind of person who trips into revolving doors, goes out of the house with a Velcro roller still stuck in the back of my hair, says exactly the worst thing at the most inopportune moment, and generally has a lot of toe-curling, squirmy  situations. So I have a lot of life experience – only natural then, to make it an art form.

My dad took the proverbial micky out of me since I was old enough to crawl. My parents took me pony riding – the horse sneezed and I flew off – bawling my eyes out I quickly realised that my parents hadn’t come to my rescue because they were pissing themselves laughing. It sort of went on from there. I’d love to have been a comedy actress really – like Catherine Tate – but I had to earn a living and nursing it was. Well I could tell you a few stories – like the chap in A&E who swore blind he had no idea how he came to sit on a wine bottle (and have surgery to remove the broken glass…)

 So when it came to writing ‘Expected’ I had a wealth of material on which to draw, and by then I’d written and had published many short comedies, so I hope – with tragic experience marrying all the years I’ve put into learning to craft a story – that the reader has a fair few laughs with my heroine, Sam Sweet. To make people laugh – what could be better than that?

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BREATH OF AFRICA

4 view cover

BREATH OF AFRICA is now in the top ten on two Amazon genre charts

And is featured in GREAT BRITISH EBOOK BARGAINS !!!

For more information – see HERE

Summer Sale only two more days at 77p

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It Couldn’t Get Better than This. (Part II)

The great Rideout is a summer ritual for towns in the Scottish borders, and on my second day in Melrose, I was privileged to witness 198 horses leaving the town to perform this annual exercise. They were each given a ribbon to count them through the gate.

Being counted through the gate

Riders young and old circled the hill overlooking the famous Melrose rugby field, to make claim to their boundaries. My mind meandered to the thought of creatures marking their territory against all comers…

With thousands of followers, we hastened through the tiny town to the banks of the River Tweed to grab good vantage spots, to wait, and wait…

The horses created waves as they crossed in droves between lines of Health & Safety marshalls, and we cheered them on.

The Rideout. 198 crossing the Tweed

By evening the horse boxes had dispersed, and a fancy dress competition absorbed the village families, re-visiting old rivalries in healthy fashion.  A colourful parade through the town was led by kilted pipers and drummers, faces deadpan under an extraordinary  variety of funny hats.

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A rare treat filled another fine morning, as we enjoyed coffee in an old fashioned bookshop in St. Boswell’s, where you could browse at will in cosy cushioned nooks. But the sunshine beckoned us out to the gardens of Floor Castle where we lunched and walked through the woods, spotting a family of deer set in bronze. The balmy summer evening ended with a delightful meal in a family restaurant, where everybody knew everybody, and we walked the mile home in the late twilight.

I returned to Edinburgh via the quaint village of Peebles, stopping for lunch with Duncan, another old Kenya friend who, like me, had just about quadrupled in width since we’d last met forty years ago.

Next stop, the unpronounceable village of Torphichen, halfway between Edinburgh and Glasgow, to see university friend Carola and meet her husband. A delightful couple who shared the making of every meal, Carola producing delicious savoury dishes and Alastair cooking the vegetables to a T. After a pleasant survey of Linlithgow peel, I experienced the amazing engineering spectacle of the Falkirk Wheel, which dominates the landscape.

Lock at Falkirk

We watched a houseboat enter the lock and circulate through the wheel, powered by the equivalent of eight boiling kettles. Then we walked to the top level as another motored through the clouds to take the downward route. I could have stayed there for hours, soaking in the scene and catching the sun.

The Falkirk Wheel

On a roll

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Before taking the train for the last leg of my journey, Carola led me on a brisk walk to delve into the vaults of ancient rituals under the extraordinarily symmetrical mound of Cairnpapple.

Carnpapple

And finally I was treated to lunch at the Airport Hilton by a new fan of my book – a friend from teenage years I’d almost forgotten I’d known. It couldn’t get better than this.

It didn’t.

I was in good time to catch the ‘plane, but they confiscated my overlarge bottle of skin care, then forced me to stuff my handbag into the badly-packed cabin case before they would let me through the shute onto the ‘plane. I nearly forgot to extract my passport and ticket before allowing a couple of fellow passengers to help me zip it up. Five minutes later I had no  qualms at all blocking up the gangway while I extracted said handbag, before stuffing the rest into the overhead locker. No way was I going to be deprived of my kindle during the flight.

Gatwick was a nightmare. After locating a washroom, I stared, rabbit-in-headlights-like at the archway pointing to “trains” for a full five minutes. I’d just come from there – I didn’t want to go back to the North Terminal on the shuttle. Where was the wretched station? Eventually, I peered further into the flashing distance and spied a  ticket office. Then I had to find the right platform…

I’d missed the train by three minutes. So I sat in misery on my up-ended case, partially shielded by a pillar from the freezing wind, trying to focus on my kindle for a full hour while four trains to Brighton whizzed through. As an Eastbourne train finally pulled in, a fellow traveller informed me that there was a waiting room further down the platform.

I  slept like a log that night, but the wind hasn’t stopped howling since. Oh, how I miss warm and sunny Scotland.

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A Remarkable Young Man

Anthony Price is a remarkable young man with a considerable writing talent. I’ve only recently plucked up courage to read horror stories. Knowing that Crooked Cat choose quality writers helped me surmount my natural reluctance, and Anthony’s story intrigued me. His book has held me in thrall. You can read my review of The House of Wood HERE.

The House of Wood

You have said The House of Wood originally started as a short story. That strikes a chord with me, because my book had the same beginnings. Have you any more short story ideas you could develop into a book – or even two stories: one for the start and one for the end?

Yes, I do actually.  I have an unfinished horror novel that started out as a short story that I submitted for my Masters Degree application.  When I looked back over it a couple of years ago, I realised that there was so much more I could say and develop.  I’m not sure it’ll be a novel now though, as I might turn it into a film script.  Or both!

 

Can you tell us something about your disability – has it always been with you, and do you consider it helped with your perception, and with describing emotions in your writings?

I have a disability called Spinal Muscular Atrophy Type 2.  It’s a genetic muscle wasting condition affecting the voluntary muscles of the body and has been with me since birth.  I’m not sure it’s helped with my perception, per se, but it’s certainly given me some unique life experiences and a different perspective on life.  It’s only recently that I’ve been drawing on my experiences as a disabled person in my writing.  Putting a disabled person in horrific circumstances certainly ups the tension.

 

I note you are an official Yahoo UK Contributor – what does that entail, and what kind of articles are you writing for them?

I am indeed.  Basically I get to write articles for their UK and Ireland website on subjects that interest me.  So, I’ll be mostly writing about film and TV stuff.  I’ve just been given my first load of articles to research and write.  One is about Star wars, another about The Avengers, one about disability in comic books, one about the 80’s Slasher movies and finally, one about The Hobbit film.  They’re certainly keeping me busy.

 NOTE: Anthony has just published his first article for Yahoo – “Disability in the DC Universe.” You can see it HERE!

Now that you have written a book, short stories, and articles, have you formed any preference for a particular form of writing?

I still love writing books.  The creative scope and depth that you can get in a novel, I’ve only ever found when writing screenplays, but even then it’s harder to get into the thoughts of the characters.  I enjoy writing the other mediums, as each one has its own merits.  I’m still pretty new to writing journalistic articles, but I’m really having some fun with it.

 

What is your next project? Have you thought of writing in another genre – if so, what might you try?

I’m working on a new horror novel.  It’s kind of a spin-off and centres round a different character.  I’m actually hoping to turn it in to a series of three books.  Apart from that, I’m working on several screenplays and a possible T.V show.  I like to keep myself busy.  As for other genres, I’m a huge fan of fantasy and would love to do something in that genre at some point.

 

I love the pic on your blog – true horror from a young man. That envious green, dripping down from a dead bone. Are you planning to treat us with regular posts sometime soon? What would be your theme?

I always keep meaning to blog, but I can never think of anything to write that people might be interested in.  I probably will use it one day, after I’ve had a few more novels published, or got a following on Yahoo.  I think I’d probably stick to the horror theme and talk about subjects related to that.  Film reviews, news articles, sneak peaks of my own work.  That kind of stuff.

 

You say you are an avid reader. When did you start, and what were your favourites?

I’m a massive fan of both horror literature and film.  I’ve been an avid reader of the genre for as long as I can remember, having my first taste of it with the Point Horror series of books.  In my late teens, I moved on to Stephen King and the late James Herbert, both of whom have influenced my work a lot.  I think overall my favourite horror book would have to be Misery.  It’s an excellent piece of writing, full of tension and suspense.  I couldn’t put it down.

As for other genres, I like historical fiction, particularly Bernard Cornwell, and I love fantasy, especially anything by Robin Hobb, or Tolkien.

 

How did you find Crooked Cat?

I actually found Crooked Cat through a group on Facebook.  They were calling for short horror story submissions for a charity anthology.  They accepted my piece for that, having enjoyed it, so I thought I’d give it a shot with my novel. Needless to say, I’m really glad that I did.

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How do you like to holiday – and what books would you take with you?

I’m a pretty active person and I like to be out and about doing things, so I prefer holidays that are a bit adventurous with a lot of sightseeing.  Next year I’m off to the San Diego Comic Con, which I’m really excited about.  But no matter where I go, my Kindle always comes with me for any down time.  I’d definitely make sure it’s stocked with plenty of horror.

 

I see you are interested in sport – which ones?

I love my football, having grown up in a household full of avid Manchester United supporters.  I also like a lot of American sport; NFL, basketball and baseball being the main three.  I was lucky enough to get tickets for the NFL game at Wembley.  I was very pleased with that, as it’s the team playing that I support.

Thank you for having me on your blog.

Anthony Price

Anthony’s links:

Facebook

Twitter

Yahoo

 

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It Could Only get Better (Part I)

I had misread the timetable – not for the only time on my trip to Edinburgh – and made the boarding gate at Gatwick with seconds to spare after sacrificing two valuable tubes of skin lotion because they were over 100 ml. I was obliged to shed my shoes and submit to a hand search after pinging the scanner and suffering my large-ish ‘handbag’ go through the scanner twice. How they missed the 200 ml bottle I’d inadvertently left inside my cabin case, I’ll never know. Oh yes, and I was politely reminded to stuff my handbag into my cabin case. I listened to her, smiled and nodded sweetly, then in true African fashion ignored the directive as I hurried on. I had no pockets in my trousers. Where did she think I would put my passport and boarding pass while trundling my luggage – and why should I stop and re-open the case, only to repeat the performance five minutes later in the ‘plane when I was late anyway?

Things got better after that.

Cousin John was waiting to meet me in Edinburgh and whisk me off in a taxi to his bachelor pad, where I dumped my case and then followed him up the road to catch the bus into the city. He knew to the second when to leave home.

‘That’s our bus,’ he said as it whizzed past us through the chicane. My steps quickened.

‘Don’t worry, it stops at the shop for five minutes.’

He was right. We got there in perfect time to board, find my exact fare (my English bus pass doesn’t work in Scotland), and climb to the top deck for me to view the city sights.

The pavements were hard, and the pins and needles crept along my left leg as we “did” the city after a quick bite to eat at Jenners. We arrived at the castle entrance in time to witness the solemn occasion of the changing of the guard.

Changing the guard

With deadpan face the soldier marched his beat, heavy boots crashing on the cobbles. How could he keep from reacting to the people gawping at him from such close quarters? Not a twinkle brushed his eyes. The new guard appeared to take their stance and effect the change.

Giving the eye

An interminable interlude ensued as in turn they were given the eye, and in due course the old guard withdrew in smart formation through the castle gates, ungainly boots clanking up the slope, not without a surreptitious slip or two.

Half way down the Royal Mile we turned right to look briefly into the abandoned quadrangle of a silent college and take refuge in the museum. Then we made our way back down the hill to enjoy gazing at the old masters in the National Gallery.

Down the Royal Mile

Well exercised, I slept well that night, and enjoyed a leisurely day in Colinton attending church and strolling along the river before returning to watch Andy Murray win at Queens, and getting ready for our Crooked Cat dinner celebrations in The Living Room.

Laurence and Steph are much nicer than their facebook pictures, and we exchanged delighted greetings with familiar faces. It was as if Ailsa and I had know each other for years, and fun to meet Mark and diminutive Pam. Time flew, and I hadn’t a chance to chat with everyone before photos were taken and we dispersed into the night clutching our T-shirts.

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The bus ride to Galashiels the following day went like a flash through peaceful hills and valleys, and for the first time this year I stripped off my sweaters. My host was waiting to whip me off to Melrose – the original site of seven a side rugby tournament – for a quick lunch then a visit to the local U3A club to listen to his son-in-law lecture on obstretics in Zambia. Interesting talk, and gory slides. Brian and I both admitted we would have passed each other in the street without recognition, but as it was twenty years ago that we’d briefly met, it is hardly surprising.

Melrose, where rugby 7's was first played.

That’s enough for now: next instalment, next week.

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Larger than Life

I’m serving up James Penhaligon on my blog today, author of rumbustious romp, Speak Swahili Dammit, a Bestseller which tells of the good old days when kids ran wild in Africa. I feel we are kindred spirits  – both of us having been raised in East Africa. But although Amazon bracket them together as “also boughts” our books could not be more different.  You can read my review of Speak Swahili Dammit HERE. (And James has reviewed mine HERE).

I love the detail in this cover. In response to my question James said: “I drew it in rough, putting a ‘collage’ of memories onto one page. Then I asked an artist friend of many years to improve my drawing, & paint it. That was it. Her name is Lynne Rowe.”

Jimu  – you come across as a larger-than-life person, and you have a proactive approach to marketing your book. I understand you had an agent at one time. How did you find him/her? What made you decide to go it alone in the end?

The only agent I ever had was a wonderful English expat lady in South Africa called Frances Bond. She was born in London, was married in Paris, then moved to Rhodesia to farm with her husband. After UDI & when the bush war started, they found themselves on the front line, & decided to move to South Africa. There Frances started her literary agency, which she ran until her death in 2010. She was my agent when I wrote under another name, & I’m not keen on associating with my old persona or writing LOL!! I’ve had no agent in the UK. Finding a publisher is impossible, yes IMPOSSIBLE, unless you are (a) already famous, or (b) have a very good contact. So I didn’t bother, & self-published ‘Speak Swahili, Dammit!’

Tell us about the times you have returned to Tanganykia / Tanzania. Have you kept up with your old friends there? And do you wish you were back living there?

 We went back in to Tanzania in October 2010, when we also visited Kenya. It was my first visit since we left in 1966. I had to go to Malindi in Kenya to find my old friends. Particularly, I met my first love, the girl of my dreams from when I was about 8 until we left East Africa, for the first time in over 44 years….

 (I’ve since discovered that my daughter in Kenya knows the son of this girl – “Eva” in the book. It’s a diminishing world indeed!)

You became a consultant psychiatrist after you left Africa. What made you chose this career?

I was so saddened by death & nasty things happening to people, that I decided to specialise in psychiatry after 10 years as a GP. Too late, I discovered that there is as much unhappiness and tragedy in psychiatry as there is in general medicine, surgery and even the field of morbid pathology. I hope and trust I did my best to help my patients over the years.

 

If Speak Swahili Dammit were to be made into a film, who would you have playing yourself? And the other prominent characters in the book?

I wouldn’t act in it. Too old and ugly! There are wonderful actors in Tanzania & Kenya, old & young, male & female. I have met some in the past. Also, the mSwahili take to acting, as a group, like ducks to water. Entertainment comes naturally to them, and they have wonderful dramatic awareness.  European parts would be filled by mainly British, but possibly also  Indian, Italian & German actors.

What part of the whole writing / editing / publishing / marketing process did you enjoy the most? – Like the least?

Best was recalling & reliving my East African past, & making basic notes. The worst was editing & re-writing huge parts, over & over! Marketing is also horrible (I don’t fancy being a merchant, & hate the whole need to make something pay) but there’s nobody else to do it, & I want people to read my story. Without sales, there’s no money for printing, etc….So, distasteful though it may be, I press on, in the hope that folk will understand that, unlike those with big companies/money behind them, the only resource I have is me.

 

Tell us about your other publications. And are you planning another book?

I have co-authored a children’s book with an ex-Kenya expatriate. It is only on Kindle at present. It’s called ‘Kalulu And The Magic bees’. I am busy with the sequel to ‘Speak Swahili, Dammit!’, which I think I’ll call ‘A Swahili Mzungu Let Loose’.

 

Where do you like to spend your holidays, and what books would you take?What are your criteria for a good read?

Happy and funny bits. Entertaining, but not too predictable. Fact rather than fiction.  Not preaching or lecturing. Illuminating & educational.

What do you most prefer doing?

Being with my wife, and the children when they come around (or when we visit them). Writing, boating, swimming. Visiting East Africa. Swimming in the Indian Ocean. Reading. Playing with my mad Boxer dog, Mufasa.

Image of James Penhaligon

James Penhaligon is a medical doctor and consultant psychiatrist in the United Kingdom. Born to Cornish parents, and raised deep in the bush in Tanganyika, later to emerge as Tanzania, he remains a fluent Swahili speaker, and has never been able to escape his early influences, or the gaze it gave him on life. Despite having left Africa, and carving himself a successful career, James has always had a fascinating East African story waiting to be told, and now he has written it. James lives with his wife and a rebellious Boxer dog in a house overlooking the sea in Falmouth, Cornwall. They often travel to East Africa.

Links:

Blog: http://jimuboy.wordpress.com

Website:  www.jamespenhaligon.co.uk/

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