Talent show

OK, folks, the blogging laziness continues. I can only apologise, but I promise that plenty of exciting things are going on behind the scenes and all will be be revealed soon, when you will hopefully forgive me for neglecting you so.


In the meantime, I just wanted to mention that I finally got round to watching New Novelists: 12 Of The Best, A Culture Show Special, which was shown on the tellybox on World Book Night. That being a Saturday, I was of course out painting the town red. Anyway, I saw it last night via the magic of Betamax, and thought it was very interesting. I'm sure you're bothered.

I enjoyed learning about the historical background to the idea of listing the best new writers at a given moment in time, and the controversy that has often entailed. I enjoyed hearing the various views on creative writing courses, and how most of the novels that were finally chosen as the golden dozen had a similar narrative structure, which the panel (led by John Mullan, who writes about the process in The Guardian here) put down to studying "the art" at college. (Whether that's a good or a bad thing, make your own mind up: I ain't here to judge, honey.) I enjoyed being made aware of 11 new books and 11 new writers, and seeing the 12th, local lass Jenn Ashworth, make her screen debut. More from Jenn here, and more on her soon on this very blog.

Abra-cadaver

Crivens, it's busy in my life right about now. Me and the #beatoff boys (just call me Nancy Drew, yeah?) are up to our eyes holding crisis talks and frantically emailing about names and logos and dates and photo-shoots and plenty more exciting things, details of which will be revealed next week, if you play your cards right (and we finally come to a decision on stuff). I've also been attending meetings about blogging and talking about blogging and writing about blogging, and you know what? I just haven't had time to do any blogging.


So I'm going to make it easy on myself here. I'm going to temporarily direct you to another blog, for an exquisite corpse is underway and, if you have been listening closely, you'll know that I am rather partial to an exquisite corpse. The game is afoot at The Endist, blog of the delightful Didsbury-based author Tom Fletcher. In exchange for contributing to the consequences, a glittering prize could be yours: a copy of Tom's new chapbook, The Field (a great story), out on the equally lovely Nicholas Royle's Nightjar.

These two, plus other fabulous local writers Jenn Ashworth, David Gaffney, Peter Wild and Tom Jenks, are currently paving the way for Station Stories, taking place 19-21 May in conjunction with Manchester Literature Festival. More on that soon, promise.

Book-a-roo!

So World Book Night just took place, and, as a result, I filled my Saturday with literary treats, culminating in bumping into short story writer and novelist Elizabeth Baines making her way to Didsbury Oxfam where I had just been handed a copy of Carol Ann Duffy's poetry collection The World's Wife. I commented later on Twitter that World Book Night did feel rather like preaching to the converted, but I've been assured, by poet Jo Bell among others, that actually books were dished out to non-reader types, so that's marvellous. Spread the love!

Anyway, my literary day kicked off with me heading to my first-ever Poets & Players event, surrounded by some wonderful naturalistic wallpaper at Whitworth Art Gallery. I was tempted over to the two-hour shindig when I heard JT Welsch was reading - I very much enjoyed his poetry when he launched his Salt chapbook alongside my pal Adrian Slatcher back in January. Described as "springing from the margins of masculinity", he didn't disappoint, especially as all bar one of the poems he read was totally new to me. Next up was another American, Aileen La Tourette, whose "magic realism" really caught my fancy. I loved the fast beaty rythms and alliterative, onomatopoeiaic language - words like "licketysplit" in the poem Humming. I particularly enjoyed the harsh feminity of Mail-order Doll - "She'd come to a bad end / I'd see to that" - and Hawaii - "Every year she sends a party dress / Like an answer to a prayer". After a break and a second helping of crackers music from Matthew Halsall's jazz-based Gondwana Orchestra, award-winning Mario Petrucci took to the stage and regaled us with tales of love and Chernobyl.

The next Poets & Players takes place on Saturday 9 April, 2.30pm, and features poetry readings by Tiffany Atkinson, Jeremy Over and Robbie Burton, and music from MariachoO!

Fame and fortune

This last fortnight or so has been nothing if not exciting. Many extraordinary and unusual happenings have been explored; many interesting people and places have been experienced. So to speak.

Anyway, one of the truly amazing heady highpoints was opening the new issue of Blankpages, which hit the interwebs on Tuesday (and which you can download here), to find this very blog featured in the Blankpicks section, written this month by 330 Words editor, #beatoff collaborateur and my friend Tom Mason. I had known that Words & Fixtures was going to be mentioned, and that the blogging baton would be passed on to me to give my choice in issue 33. What I didn't know was quite how many lovely adjectives and descriptions Tom was going to employ!

Surely nothing, ever, could beat: "She’s a bit like the local Lauren Laverne of literature". Goodness me. Perhaps my work here is done.

Thirties something

Another day, another play; this time Noel Coward's Private Lives at the Royal Exchange. I'm not much of an authority on Coward, but the Exchange's production of Blithe Spirit just over a year ago was so full of frivolity and flapper dresses (for which I have something of a weakness) that I immediately wanted to see this when I heard it was going to be on.

I wasn't disappointed. As ever at this theatre, the sets were fantastic, with an almost authentic ornamental garden laid out for the first act and a plush 1930s Parisian apartment, complete with grand piano (that is played live - oh, the talent!), for the second. The costumes and accessories too were beautiful, from the men's suits and smoking jackets to the ladies' travelling clothes and floaty evening gowns.

It's an excellent text, full of witty repartee and clever wordplay ("Don't quibble, Sibyl", etc). Even the bits in French are funny, and, while you might need to parler un petit peu to fully understand, the actress playing the maid (Rose Johnson) gets the point across with some comedy gestures and fabulous hamminess.

The remaining characters are Elyot and Sibyl Chase and Victor and Amanda Prynne; a pair of honeymooning couples, two of whom (Elyot and Amanda) were previously married - obviously with hilarious consequences. Simon Robson is wonderfully caddish as Elyot; Joanna Page (of Gavin and Stacey fame, I suddenly realise) has some lovely histrionics (and kiss curls) as Sibyl; Clive Hayward plays the puffed-up stick-in-the-mud Victor incredibly well - but it's Imogen Stubbs as Amanda who steals the show. She's cute and coquettish, cheeky and charming - and brilliant at tango and charleston. And she gets all the best lines:

Elyot: "It doesn't suit women to be promiscuous."
Amanda: "It doesn't suit men for women to be promiscuous!"

I think I want to be her.


Simon Robson as Elyot Chase and Imogen Stubbs as Amanda Prynne. Photo by Jonathan Keenan.

Private Lives continues until 9 April. See the Royal Exchange website for full details.