Travels in a Dervish Cloak by Isambard Wilkinson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A copy of this was provided free of charge from the publisher in return for an honest review.

When you think of the Asian sub-continent, India is the country that immediately springs to mind. Formed in 1947 after partition from India Pakistan is the poor sibling when it comes to countries to visit. It is a country that Isambard Wilkinson was captivated by. His grandmother had a lot of Anglo-Indian heritage and she was regularly visited by a larger than life friend called Begum, who offered a beguiling glimpse of the country on her visits every year. The desire to visit the country grew in intensity and when the opportunity of being a foreign correspondent there presented itself Wilkinson jumped at the chance. His delicate health was one factor that could hold him back, but he wasn’t going to miss the chance.

Paganism flourished beneath a thin veneer of Islam

Pakistan is a country that is in a certain amount of turmoil. On one hand, you have a people that have a history that goes back hundreds and hundreds of years and even though it has been draped with Islam has still managed to maintain their mystical culture. The modern day country is currently suffering pressures from extremism and religious violence with a never-ending tirade of bombs, coups, assassinations and ethnic violence. It is something that Wilkinson is acutely aware of as he begins his stint as a reporter in the country, but first, he had to go and see Begum.

His route around the country would take him from the Punjab, up into the mountains to the saints and slaves of Sindh and to the very edge of Afghanistan and the infamous Khyber Pass. He meets with feudal overlords and saints, prostitutes and chieftains and petty officials as well as using his knowledge of the country to get to the very heart of the story. His brother joins him on this journey and is spent in an alcoholic blur, dancing or bumping along in the back of a truck. There are moments of relaxation in a hashish haze and some very close misses as the cold fingers of terrorism are never far from the where he stays.

My notes from the festival, made partly illegible by the sweat of the dance, to this day smell of perfumed water and petals

Against all medical advice, Wilkinson followed his heart and made the decision to head to Pakistan a decade ago, and I think he made the right call. A lot of travel writers are there to observe and pass through as a fly on the wall, but he wants to participate, share drinks, mix with people from all levels of society and immerse himself in the country and that is what makes this book quite special. He is not afraid to join in with the celebrations and criticise when appropriate, something that gets him in trouble occasionally. What he finds is quite enlightening too; it is still a young country that is still finding its own voice and identity, whilst being pressurised from outside influences from the Western and Islamic worlds, but there are still those villages that maintain the way of life as they have done for ages. The mono images in the centre of the book fit nicely, as they make you look at the subject matter rather than be dazzled by the colourful people. It is a fitting portrait that gets to the very essence of a complex country.

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I Found My Tribe by Ruth Fitzmaurice
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

A copy of this was provided free of charge from the publisher in return for an honest review.

Back in 2008, Ruth Fitzmaurice’s husband Simon was diagnosed with motor neurone disease. His career was just starting to lift and they had three small children so Ruth put her writing ambitions on the back burner to care for him and them. Events took a more dramatic turn when he was given four years to live and then they had had twins. Even though Simon can only communicate using his eyes and technology, he still managed to direct My Name is Emily. Ruth regularly heads to a cove in Greystones, Co. Wicklow with two close friends, Michelle and Aifric to swim in the cold seas. She calls this tribe ‘The Tragic Wives’ Swimming Club’; and gives her a necessary respite from her other tribe of children and carers for Simon.

Even in the most tragic of circumstances, she can see hope, even though she has periods of time where she feels raw and vulnerable. Ruth has a roller coaster of emotions living with Simon and his motor neurone disease. It is tough, but not as tough as the moments when she has to answer the children’s questions as what is happening with Dad, especially when she doesn’t have the answers. The sea swimming becomes those moments when she can be herself and relax with her friends. Her beautiful, sparse prose gets to the very essence of what is happening with the various tribes. It is a moving book too, with several poignant moments. She is one tough lady. 3.5 stars

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Outskirts: Living Life on the edge of the Green Belt by John Grindrod
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

A copy of this was provided free of charge from the publisher in return for an honest review.

Over 1.5 million hectares of green belt land exist in the UK. It was conceived way back in Victorian times as a way of ensuring that the people living in towns still had some contact with the countryside. The Green Belt around London was first proposed in 1935 and by 1947 local authorities were including green belt proposals in their development plans. There are lots of benefits of having these green areas surrounding towns, it prevents towns from merging together, discourages urban sprawl and encourages people to reuse land more efficiently. When I think of the green belt, you have this impression of a wide band of fields and woods surrounding a town or city. However, the reality is much messier than that and it is a resource that is under threat from housing pressures and developers so much so that we have lost over 30,000 hectares since the millennium.

Grindrod grew up in New Addington, at the point where urban Croydon fizzles out and the fields and coppices begin. The youngest of three boys, his parents John and Marj had moved out from a flat in Battersea to this new development in Surrey at the very end of the Sixties. For reasons that become apparent later on, John was a little bit of a loner and suffered from endless teasing; the woodlands opposite his house became a bolthole where he could indulge his imagination when the real world became too much for him. But it became more that, it was a place that came to define him as a person and set the path for his life and career as he became a modern-day Janus man who looked towards the urban and rural landscapes for inspiration.

As well as Grindrod’s insightful personal stories of his own life growing up in 1970’s suburbia and a fitting eulogy to his mother and father, this is a warts and all history of the green belt and its place in the social history of the UK. It bought back my own memories of growing up; we lived in an estate right next to a woodland that was planted by Thomas Waterer and where I spent many happy hours as a child. He champions the good points behind the green belt and the benefits it can provide to society and he hits the nail on the head when it comes to the disjointed housing policy we have had in the UK since the 1980’s. Grindrod is not afraid to challenge the current thinking too arguing that we need a big rethink on national policy with the current housing crisis, especially when you consider the area of land designated green belt (and golf courses are included) in the UK, especially when compared to actual land that is built on. It won’t be an easy debate, but it is one we need to have. Really enjoyable book, and as I haven’t read Concretopia yet, but it is being moved up the list.

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Unravelling Oliver by Liz Nugent
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Oliver Ryan has it all, nice house, devoted wife and a glittering career as an author. With Alice his wife as the illustrator, he has created a series of children’s books that have captivated the world. He has had film deals, awards, and accolades galore as well as a comfortable life. After Alice is found on her dining room floor beaten into a coma, that way of life is about to come to an abrupt end because Oliver has a secret that no one knows, a secret that he will go to almost any length to protect.

As Alice remains in intensive care, people look for the motives behind Oliver’s actions. Shocked friends and family begin to untangle his past life, the extramarital affairs, the deceptions behind his school days and his writing profession. They realise that the Oliver they thought they knew is utterly different to the one that they find before themselves now.

This is quite a short, sharp ‘why done it’ that is as unsettling as it is shocking at the beginning. I liked the way Nugent used the different people’s perspectives as Oliver’s past was unravelled before our eyes. There were no surprising twists, just the moment where a chance holiday brought the plot full circle, and you had that Ah! moment. Neatly done.

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Autumn: An Anthology for the Changing Seasons by Melissa Harrison
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

As the world turns once again on the equinox, nights draw in, the sunshine from summer has been converted into nature’s bounty, mist rolls over fields and a new smell permeates the sharper mornings. Gone are the acid greens of spring and deeper shades of summer, now we have leaves turning rich reds, bold yellows and mellow browns. The swallows who arrived early summer, zoom across the fields one final time before leaving for Africa. Autumn has arrived.

Just seconds ago I was in a concrete jungle, but now I stand surrounded by damp earth, wood and October’s sepia tones – Will Harper-Penrose

So begins the final book in this series of seasons that I have read. Melissa Harrison has again gathered together a fine collection of classic prose and poetry as well as the current stalwarts of our rich seam of nature writing in the UK. Most importantly is bringing to our attention the newest authors and writers who seek their inspiration from their own patch of the natural world. To be honest, they are all good, but there are a few that are outstanding, in particular, Jane Adams, Will Harper-Penrose and Megan Shersby. I am hoping that the chance that all these authors have had to appear in print will pay off in abundance in years to come. If you want a book to read that has those evocative smells and the whiff of bonfire then this is absolutely perfect. Great little book, another beautiful cover and a cracking series.

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Around the Coast in Eighty Waves by Jonathan Bennett
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

When you think of surfing, the beaches of Hawaii and Bondi Beach in Australia spring to mind, and that Beach Boys song will drift into your mind and stick. The UK has a surf culture too, that unbelievable has been around for over 50 years now and it has around half a million regular surfers and a large number who try it for the first time every year. Modern surfing was brought to Cornwall by four Australian lifeguards who amazed people with the way they could swoop across the waves. Its spiritual home has remained in the West Country, the place that receives a large proportion of the waves and swells from the North Atlantic. Jonathan Bennett set himself a challenge of catching a wave on eighty separate beaches all around the UK that were suitable for surfing.

But first, he needed a camper van.

Having found one in Hastings, he sets off on his fourteen-month journey around the UK. In what turns out to be the coldest winter for a while, he wishes he had bought one with a heater… Starting in Scotland, he kind of heads clockwise around the country, stopping at promising looking beaches hoping to catch that perfect wave. Living on porridge and endless cups of tea he manages to avoid going anywhere near a regular campsite, sleeping where he can hear the waves crash onto the beach. He will surf alone on one of the most remote beaches in the UK, share the water with seals, great and not so great bodyboarders and the odd unmentionable object.

This is an enjoyable account of Bennetts attempt to surf his way around the UK. The writing is straightforward with good descriptions of the people and places he meets on his surf journey. There is the odd amusing moment and the book is full of surf jargon, thankfully there is a glossary in the back of the book. Sadly what the book is missing is photos, whilst I have been to some of the beaches mentioned, I would have loved to have seen photos of the beaches surfed in the Highlands and Islands. If you have read any of Tom Anderson’s books then you will like this one. 3.5 stars

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