Thursday 30 December 2021

Atlas of the Invisible- a review

 


This book has a bold claim on it's front; 'maps and graphics that will change how you see the world', so is it justified? The authors had already already published similar books. One, 'Where the animals go', used data from tracking animals and birds to visualise migration patterns, population densities and so on, This builds on that premise to look at how societies function by mapping connectivity, commuting patterns and population movements. But it goes into more problematical areas too, straying into politics and not shying away from more controversial subjects such as lynchings in American states and the passage of slaves from Africa to the Americas, as well as misogyny and gender inequality.

Through it all they illustrate the essential truth of the dictum that a picture paints a thousand words. We all know about the idea of gerrymandering; re-drawing the boundaries of districts to favour one party against another. But seeing the outlines of districts that are stretched out and twisted to achieve the desired result makes it more real somehow. 

Later chapters of the book deal with global warming, another subject that is brought to life through imagery far more effectively than by tables of statistics. The map of Majuro in the Marshall Islands shows just how much of it is at risk of being underwater, but the map is sufficiently Zoomed in to show not just which residential districts but which Government buildings will be inundated or cut off, bringing home just how real the threat is. 

Some of the most interesting maps show things at the opposite scale; the Global overview of mobile phone connections clearly shows how much further down this route Western Europe, the Eastern United States, Korea and Japan are compared to China and India, whilst the isolation of North Korea shows up starkly in the almost total absence of phone towers in that country. The map of China that shows population movement from the countrside to cities is another great example of an overview that illustrates a truth, with the blue showing areas of population drop and the red showing where they have moved to. 

If you are some-one who thinks that all this data mapping is a two-edged sword will be disturbed by the use of mobile phone data to show how people moved from Puerto Rico to the United States after Hurricane Maria struck the island; where they went to and in what numbers, as well as when they began to return. This, however, is the world we live in now. I am one of those who was instinctively opposed to too much connectivity; but being unable to change it I now seek to understand it.

So, back to that claim on the cover. I think it stands up; the various spreads make you think about subjects as mundane as commuting and as controversial as slavery with fresh eyes, as well as exciting thought about what it all means for our lives. I would recommend this book to anyone who thinks about our world and about human society and endeavour and seeks understanding. You need to be prepared to have your conceptions and ideas challenged, and it should awaken a desire to explore further. 

Graphic showing popularity of names across the globe


Friday 24 December 2021

Tree in Winter

 The architecture of trees

I've talked before about how winter lets us see the shape of trees, without their concealing camouflage of leaves. This is seen to best advantage against a clear sky, but also, as on the morning after the Winter Solstice, against a winter sunrise. This tree, just a few minutes walk from my house, is separate enough from it's neighbours to be viewed in isolation. We can appreciate the complexity of it's growth, whilst appreciating that this photograph is but a a 2D simplification of a 3D object that occupies a considerable space. 

It was well worth venturing out into the -3 briskness of the morning to take this and other photographs: 




Friday 26 November 2021

Me and the Sea

 



Old friend, it's me again, 

Sorry that it's been so long,

It seems I'm fated never to remain, 

Within earshot of your endless song.


So often I've seen each shifting disguise, 

Revelled in your existential rage,

or your calms that take me by surprise,

Revealed like the turning of a page.


They're all you.


The small boy tossing stones in you, 

The young man idly strolling by, 

The proud father pointing out the view,

The mature man lost in staring at the sky.


They're all me


Perhaps after all we're better this way, 

Our occasional acquaintance forever renewed

Me knowing you'll be there come what may

You there to mirror my changing mood.


I'll try to remain me; I know you will remain you. 

Sunday 12 September 2021

Autumn Rose

 


My Rose Bush gives a wonderful display in June. By pruning it afterwards, I get a second crop of blooms in early September. This close-up was taken in the evening, no filters, no photoshop, just pre-sunset rays.

Sometimes you see something that demands capturing, this was one of those times. A strictly amateur phone camera shot, but I like it.

Monday 6 September 2021

Harvest Home

 Nothing says late summer more than a field of hay bales. Nowadays the bales are produced by machine; either cuboid or circular. It's a sight I associate with my home county of Suffolk- I always visit family during the summer months from my my home in Northamptonshire. But there are still fields of crops a mile or two from my home. These pictures were taken on the B645 heading towards Higham Ferrars. 

I am very grateful to the landowner who was out walking her dogs when I turned up and kindly allowed me to snap away: 








Monday 30 August 2021

The Nene Valley past Thrapston

 

The Nene Valley between Thrapston and Aldwinkle

 As the river Nene moves towards the sea it passes through the north-east corner of East Northamptonshire, a quiet rural area, before it widens out as it approaches Peterborough. The stretch between Thrapston and Oundle is particularly peaceful, winding through countryside, fringed by trees and only occasionally passing under the A605.

At high summer the impression is of lush greenery, with the river slow enough to reflect the sky. Ducks and Geese abound, whilst a walk along the path alongside will bring you in contact with dragonflies.

 If you are lucky you will come across a narrowboat, or occasionally, paddle boarders. 



The 21st century takes a back seat here and it would not be a surprise to meet some ladies out of a Jane Austen novel, or a horseman riding by. At certain points the church spires of villages such as Islip or Aldwinkle become visible, at others the vegetation crowds the banks:

  



All these photographs were taken between Thrapston and Oundle. If you carry on further, you get to Fotheringhay; but that's a story for another post. Follow the Link below: 


The River still flows past Fotheringhay



 

 

 

 

  





Sunday 8 August 2021

Poco: Rose of Cimarron; a timeless classic

 



Rose of Cimarron is the most well-known song of the American Country rock band Poco. Their name means ‘little’ in Spanish and in some ways is all too apt. Their contemporaries The Eagles outgrew their mentor Linda Ronstadt and their inspiration Jackson Browne to eventually bestride the world as Rock Megastars. In this shade, Poco struggled for sunlight and exposure, despite the pedigree they sprang from. Lead singer Richie Furay and Bassist Randy Meissner had been in Buffalo Springfield along with Stephen Stills and Neil Young. These two joined up with Graham Nash and David Crosby to form a ‘supergroup’.

 Graham Nash had recently left the Hollies and Crosby the Byrds; their sound with Stills and Young produced some wonderful harmonies. Furay brought that love of harmonic singing into Poco and the Eagles embraced it too. Meissner left Poco for the Eagles and later so did Timothy B Schmidt. Both the Eagles and Poco were guitar bands that branded themselves using images from the Midwest of America; The animal skull on the Eagles Album covers and the Hacienda look of the building on Rose of Cimarron album cover both evoke that cowboy vibe which was a dominating motif of 1970’s culture.



 The band’s most successful album Crazy Eyes, had reached #38 on the American Billboard chart; by contrast the  Rose of Cimarron album only made #89. But in the UK, the title track Rose of Cimarron remains a popular song on AOR radio stations and, after 43 years has attained classic status. I believe this is because although it is a genre song, it has elements that transcend that narrow definition. Also, it has an undefinable feel to it that moves the soul; it is the sort of song that unconsciously demands an emotional response.

 So let’s take a look at it’s constituent parts:

 Rose of Cimarron begins with a sure rhythm that to me evokes a gently cantering horse, it moves you along. The lyrics reinforce this: 

‘roll along, roll on, dusty days are gone, Rose of Cimarron’.

 The lyrics tell a story; of Rose Dunn, who became romantically involved with an outlaw, George Newcomb. So the story goes, she kept house for him and provided domestic comforts for his gang when they returned from their raids:


 

‘Trails that brought them home, echo names they’ve known, Four days high and lonely, comin’ to you only’

 The song pays tribute to the importance they attached to having a female influence in their lives:

‘you’re the one they turned to, the only one they knew

Who’d do all her best to be around, when the chips were down’

 But the song really takes wing after the basic story has been told. The vocalist hums along to the rhythm a while until the guitar solo kicks in; a liquid sound with just a hint of aggression that moves up the register before sliding down again to introduce Timothy B Schmidt’s soaring falsetto:

 ‘Hearts like yours belong, following the dawn,

Wrapped up in a song, Rose of Cimarron’

 As he sings you hear equally soaring violins keeping him company and after the abrupt guitar break and ringing piano that slows the song right down they are joined by counterpointing cellos. As these slowly fade away the piano keeps the song going and just as you think it has nothing else to give a banjo joins in, providing a rippling coda until the fadeout.

By the time the last note has played the song is into it’s seventh minute. When it finally finishes the listener is left emotionally satisfied. You may find yourself blinking back a tear at this point, for no reason you can pinpoint. Perhaps you should listen to the songwriter, band member Rusty Young, the one constant member of the band over the years:

 

‘I love everything about that song, from the very visual lyrics to the beautiful melody’

 Rose of Cimarron is one of those songs that, whilst being of its time and genre, somehow transcends both to become a piece of musical magic. Give it a listen and see if it tugs at your heartstrings too:

 Rose of Cimarron

 

 


Thursday 5 August 2021

Stillwater: a review

 


Stillwater, a film starring Matt Damon, tells the story of a man trying to do the right thing by his daughter, who has been convicted of murder and is serving a prison sentence in a foreign country. This scenario clearly has echoes of the Amanda Knox/ Meredith Kercher real-life story (Knox was convicted of killing Kercher, won an appeal, had it overturned, was then acquitted again and released). Knox herself has objected to the film on the grounds that it exploits her life to make money.

 She probably has a point, but the film does not slavishly follow the details of her case and in any case, it’s focus is the father and daughter relationship rather than the crime itself. This review therefore takes the film on its merits as a film, so I will say no more about the links with real life.

 When reviewing a film or a television programme, my starting point is always whether it makes the most of the chosen medium of visual scenes. This is often overlooked when a book is brought to the screen, for instance, but is important in evaluating the film. Before we focus closely on the scenes it offers, we should briefly mention the wider themes it brings to our attention.

 Themes

I have already mentioned the parent/child relationship, in this case father and daughter, a common theme in films. Although not the only one, this is clearly the pivotal relationship of the film. A second important theme is that of someone trying to operate in a foreign country whose culture is alien to them. This particular slant, that of an American in France, is a well-worn staple of many films.

The third major theme is that of second chances and redemption, not just for the daughter but for the father. Finally, there is a man/woman relationship that slow burns its way to romance.

 What you won't see

It is also worth mentioning what the film eschews. Although the plot driver is a crime and a court case, there are no courtroom scenes or lawyerly arguments on display. There is also a distinct lack of exposition. We do not see one character explaining everything to another in detail. The facts of the case are reluctantly disgorged by Matt Damon’s character, he never volunteers anything. The role of the media, so pivotal in the Knox/Kercher case, is only briefly discussed here, raised by the daughter. There is no depiction of whipping up a media campaign to support release.

 Matt Damon

What comes to mind when you hear the name Matt Damon depends on your age and your tastes. For some, he is still the mathematical oddball of Goodwill Hunting. Science Fiction fans will think of The Martian and Interstellar, action aficionados will call to mind the Jason Bourne character. For many, he is the wannabe con-man desperately trying to impress the cool guys (Brad Pitt and George Clooney) in the Oceans series. Other memorable films include The Talented Mr Ripley, The Monuments Men and Invictus (he played the Springbok rugby captain Francois Pienaar).

 Just listing those films gives an idea of the longevity and breadth of his oeuvre. Stillwater marks another phase in this prolific career. Damon plays Bill Baker, who is not cool, not an action character, but a flawed human being trying to do the right thing (and make up for past mistakes). The best actors are prepared to move on from the leading man/action figure stage of their careers and Damon makes a good fist of doing that here. Sean Penn and Matthew McConnachie are other examples of actors embracing rugged and flawed as they get older.

Showing not telling

I began the review talking about making good use of the medium and the way Bill Baker is introduced is a masterclass in showing rather than telling. In the first couple of minutes we see him working as a manual labourer, buying fast food,  returning to an empty house, and being interviewed for a job, thus effectively establishing his character; a man living a lonely, unhealthy and insecure life. We then see him travel to Marseille and check into a hotel. The reason for the visit is shown without explanation, a visit to his daughter in prison. As seen in these opening sequences, Bill is a methodical, taciturn, buttoned up character with a traditional outlook (he says grace before his takeaway, even though there is no-one else there) in short, a very American working-class type.

 Relationships

His daughter, Allison, has clearly inherited some of his emotional reserve. Their conversations are stilted, inconsequential. Only when she hands him a letter for her lawyer do we glimpse her desperation. With his checked shirt, jeans and baseball cap, he looks like a fish out of water on the streets of Marseille. Luckily for him, he finds an ally, the woman in the adjacent hotel room, whose daughter Bill helps when she is locked out of the room. Virginie, played by Camille Cottin, is as Gallic as Bill is American. She is bohemian, unconventional and, despite being a single mother, still exudes an endearing youthfulness.

 



With his local ally, Bill starts to make progress with helping Allison. There is an unwinding plot, but the pleasure of the film lies in the building of the relationships. Little vignettes show us Bill connecting with Virginie’s daughter Maya, he picks her up from school, she teaches him French words for his tools. The film shows us, and Bill tells us, he wasn’t such a great dad first time around. With Maya, he is trying to atone for this, and beginning to succeed. With Virginie, he is awkward, because he likes her. We learn that Allison’s mother is dead, and he finds it difficult to envisage himself in a new relationship. Virginie is giving out visual cues; she gives him her full attention and plenty of eye contact, leaning in towards him and sitting and standing in ways that invite attention, but he either misses them or is too scared to act on them. This one of the strengths of film, it can show you the relationship between two characters without resorting to words. This film conveys plenty by showing rather than telling.

 


 

Bill’s relationship with these three women in his life form the substance of the film, played out against the developing plot of trying to free Allison and his attempts to understand France. Success looks unlikely, whilst the absence of any flashback scenes or detailed exposition means the audience never quite has a definitive steer on Allison’s guilt or innocence. This lends an air of jeopardy to proceedings; you are never sure whether Bill will achieve his aim. When Bill goes looking for someone in the rough part of town you think: are you mad? Is it because as an American he doesn’t see the danger or is just so driven by his cause that he doesn’t care about it? At the same time the viewer is on his side even when he is being reckless.


The director also uses the camera to offer a strong sense of place, showing us the landmarks of Marseille, including the coastline and the docks, as well as the different street views. Some scenes are shot in quaint historic streets, others in the vicinity of modern concrete ugliness of “downtown”, or as the French say, the “banlieue”. All these visuals contrast with those of Oklahoma at the beginning, which are all about wide open space. Marseille is about high density living and, to an American, a sense of claustrophobia. As a multi-cultural city it is a long way from Stillwater Oklahoma in more ways than one. 

 


So can Bill learn to understand his new milieu? Will things work out for him and Virginie? Does he find redemption through parenting Maya?  Will Allison win an appeal? You will have to watch the film to find out. What I can say is that it is worth the effort. Damon is very good as the not quite MAGA Bill Baker, Cottin is mesmerising as Virginie and Lilou Siauvaud accomplished as Maya. This film may also make you thoughtful about racial attitudes in Europe, pre-conceptions about Americans and about your own relationships, with parents, with children if you have them.

 Summary: is there redemption? 

Finally, the other reason I enjoyed it is that it is a film about people and relationships; no guns, few special effects, no super-heroes, just flawed people trying to make their way. It also resisted the temptation to provide a clean-cut ending for Bill, with a Disney happy ever-after. Instead the key message at the end is of coming to terms with life and appreciating what it gives you. I liked that.  I thoroughly recommend this film; if you want more about the Amanda Knox case, other reviews are available.  

Wednesday 28 July 2021

Landscape or portrait? Views of Stanwick Lakes

 Mobile phone cameras have given us two viewpoints we have become used to; the slim portrait and the letterbox landscape. Each provides a viewpoint that draws the eye differently. Slimline portraits give a top to bottom view that works especially well with open air shots. The eye can follow down from the sky or up from the gound, taking in the different layers or levels of the picture, like this: 


In this image, looking from bottom to top, the fringe of reeds gives way to blue water, with a pattern of clearly delineated ripples, stretching away to the far bank. Above the trees a clear blue sky gradually deepens in shade away from the horizon. This viewpoint provides a sliver of the landscape emphasising the depth of the scene. 

The same view taken in letter-box landscape style has a different feel: 


Here, the eye is drawn primarily to the ripples on the water. The far bank clearly divides land and sky, with the latter showing much less shade variation. The shadows on the water combine with the ripples to give a sense of a breeze blowing, something you cannot capture directly. This picture gives you a sense of width rather than depth, showing the expanse of water at the expense of the sky, keeping you eye earthbound. 

Each style of picture can be effective, but as you can see, they do achieve different results. It is one way the photographer imposes their decision-making on the viewer, deciding what to show and what to exclude. This is a neutral subject, there is nothing lurking to one side or up in the air. Applied to other circumstances, a street protest for example, the decisions might not be so innocent. In this case though, you can enjoy the view without worrying too much about the photographers intentions (my intentions, of course, since I took the photographs). 

So the question is: which do you prefer? feel free to comment. 

Wednesday 21 July 2021

Kew Gardens: Bird of Paradise (Strelitzia)

 In the tropical house at Kew there are plants from around the world grown from seeds brought back from remote locations by enterprising botanists; many of whom would give Indiana Jones a run for his money in the derring-do stakes. Among these, the Bird of Paradise plant gets plenty of attention. So called because the flower heads resemble those of birds, Strelitzia Reginae were first seen at Kew as far back as 1773. Joseph Banks, the pioneering botanist, described the plant in its natural habitat in South Africa. 

On our visit at the end of May there was a fine display of flowers in the Tropical House, pictures of which are shown below: 





The stories behind the plants at Kew are as interesting as those behind objects in the British Museum. There is light and shade to be found in them, but, in the case of Kew, the potential exists to send seeds and plants back to their place of origin. Kew is a safety deposit box for many plant species around the world and has the potential to become even more important in the future. In the meantime, these flowers can delight the eye and engage the mind. 

Follow the links below for my other Kew Posts:

The Water Lily House at Kew

The Hive at Kew Gardens

Vistas at Kew

Tuesday 20 July 2021

Kew Gardens: The Waterlily House

 One of the striking sights at Kew (among many) are the giant lilies in the Waterlily house. There are lilies on an outside pond there too: 


But the lilies in the Waterlily House are of a different scale altogether. Growing in a circular indoor pond, they are feet across, with raised rims like giant dinner plates. Amongst these Brobdingnagian leaves, flowers bloom, in a rich, humid and tropical atmosphere that adds to the overall effect of being inside a fairy story. Discovered in Bolivia in 1801, these Victoria Cruziana have been a source of wonder to successive generations of visitors. Here in their UK home they are free to attain their full size and to flower. 





Follow the links for my other Kew posts:

Strelitzia plants

Vistas at Kew

The Hive at Kew

Kew Gardens: The Hive

 


I realised a long-held ambition recently by visiting Kew Gardens. We gave ourselves the whole day there, being onsite from 11.00 to nearly 6.00 pm; but still realised there is too much for one visit. Too much for one blog too; I am going to post separate articles for various aspects of Kew. This first is about the feature that really grabbed when I saw it and even more so once we walked inside it: The Hive. Created by Wolfgang Buttress for the Milan Expo in 2015, the Hive is, as the Kew website explains: 

'a visual tribute to Britain's honeybees' 

It has 170,000 parts and includes 1,000 LED lights. I am always attracted by Art that builds up from simple items to make a complex whole, whether it is Anthony Gormley's field (36,000 clay figurines laid out together at the Tate Back in 2004) or Bridget Riley's deceptive repeated lines. The Hive is a great example of this, with the struts and joins re-creating the shape of a beehive within it's cube:


When we look at bees, we feel a connection. They exist in a society where the individual performs a role, they demonstrate that they can learn and communicate what they have learned to each other, and they create architecture. Bees symbolise work and industry and, after the Manchester bombing, they became a powerful symbol of togetherness. The honeycomb structure is one humans have borrowed, as well as the hive shape. In Greece, the Bronze age societies there used the hive shape to create stunning tombs. In the present day, we are (belatedly) beginning to realise how important they are to our own survival through the role they play in plant pollination. 

As well as the lights, the Hive at Kew uses sound to create an effect, a constant humming in the register of C which provides the other sensory cue that reminds us of bees:

The Hive at Kew

The video provides a much better sense of the overall effect than my photographs; but I did manage one that gives that architectural impression. This was taken looking straight up and is an artwork in itself I feel: 


Follow the links for my other Kew posts: 

Strelitzia plants

The Water Lily House at Kew

Vistas at Kew

Kew Gardens: Vistas

 Kew was created by the coming together under one ownership of two adjoining parcels of land. This is what provides the sense of space and allows the visitor to enjoy not just the various Greenhouses and architecture such as the Pagoda, but to stroll through forest landscapes. Within this Silvan creation, there are stands of trees from many different regions of the globe. Importantly, careful planting and management has created over the years a series of striking vistas; open spaces framed by trees, giving the viewer perspective laden views in several directions. 

I was particularly taken with these; they are more natural versions of those you see on country estates, leading the eye to the Great House down avenues of single species plantings. I present here a selection of those that caught my eye: 







Follow the links for my other Kew Posts:




Sunday 30 May 2021

The Essex Serpent: A book review


 

The Essex Serpent is a novel by Sarah Perry. It was published a couple of years ago. The cover, which is in a style I would classify as decorative medieval tapestry, was an early example of a look which is now common. The story is a multi-layered tale that explores the aftermath of grief, the making and breaking of friendships, the mysterious nature of human attraction and the fragility of life.

It is firmly rooted in time and space and evokes both effortlessly whilst at the same time achieving transcendence from both. Set in the late Victorian era, it has trains, but not cars, letters, but not phones, whilst the Essex coast is still far enough from London to still be a separate world of its own. A particular feature of the novel is the pairing of opposites. The sense of time gives us one such; tradition vs modernity. There is a definite sense that tradition is fighting a losing battle.

Sarah Perry, like me, is a child of the East coast. Her evocation of an Essex estuary, with its mudflats, east wind and fog banks felt like home to me. She captures the sense of a world apart both through physical descriptions and the exposure of the locals state of mind and beliefs. Geography matters, with the action ( and it is sometimes is genuinely exciting and disturbing) unfolding in London, the hamlet of Aldwinter and the intermediate town of Colchester. Aldwinter and London are another pairing of opposites, in size, social make-up and culture, with Colchester a half-way house where characters meet.

Talking of characters, it’s time to meet them. The central character in the story is Cora Seaborne, recently widowed, a woman of means with an interest in science, especially geology and paleontology. Cora is an unconventional woman living in a time when the opposite is expected of a woman of her station. An outsider herself, she attracts, and is attracted by, other outsiders.

Her son Francis clearly has traits of ASD and OCD. Her companion Martha, originally employed as his nanny, is a fierce advocate for social justice. Her friend Luke is a doctor with modern radical ideas of treatment that his medical colleagues look sideways at. Another friend, Spencer, is a social dilettante in search of a purpose, whilst Charles Ambrose and his wife, though part of the rich establishment, are happy to mix beyond their narrow layer of society.

Luke, who first met Cora when treating her husband during his terminal illness, is struck by her physical appearance:

“She was dressed in grey, and simply, but her skirt’s fabric shimmered like a pigeon’s  neck.”

Martha is aware of the changefulness of Cora’s persona:

“Infuriated and entranced, Martha found that no sooner had she grown accustomed to one Cora, another would emerge”

One way and another, Cora holds them all in thrall.

This London-based cast of characters are brought into contact with the inhabitants of Aldwinter, an edge of the world sort of place, by Cora. She has heard tell of the Essex Serpent, a persistent myth that the locals see as a judgement from God, or possibly a pagan monster from the past. Cora, given her interests, is hopeful of a pre-historic survival, a plesiosaur or something like it- a rational explanation that would nonetheless contain its own kind of wonder.

On her way to the village, walking the last stretch, Cora encounters a man she takes for an agricultural worker, but who, it transpires, is the local vicar. Their friendship and growing relationship provides the arc of the main part of the story. Cora Seaborne and the Reverend William Ransome are another pair of opposites, the one a scientific rationalist, the other a religious believer in providence. Their friendship is often spiky and argumentative, yet underlying it is an attraction that they initially refuse to admit, to themselves or each other.

That’s as much plot as I can give away with spoiling the story. As it unfolds, the delight of this novel comes from the vivid earthy descriptions, the subtle changes of character and the subtle interplays between people. Another device that increases the immediacy of the story is the way it moves between tenses. Sometimes events are described in the past tense, but then it switches to the present, which makes the reader a witness of events unfolding, as in this passge from the opening phase of the book:

“But something alters in a turn of the tide or a change of the air: the estuary surface shift- seems (he steps forward) to pulse and throb, then grow slick and still; then soon after to convulse, as if flinching at a touch”.

I read this book slowly, in no particular hurry to finish it. Its that kind of book, not a page turner but a thought provoker. Are the mores of metropolitan London superior or inferior to those of rural Aldwinter. Is attraction worth the pain it brings? Is science really just another set of beliefs, a form of religion?

At its heart, the book is a celebration of the fact that whether you live in a mega-city like London or a Hamlet like Aldwinter, what really matters to you is the circle of family, friends  and acquaintances in your immediate orbit.

My final observation is a comment on the magnificent literary creation that is Cora Seaborne. She is by turns inspiring in her independence, infuriating in her selfishness and fascinating to the reader as much as to the characters that revolve around her. But don’t take my word for it- read it yourself.

Saturday 15 May 2021

The river still flows past Fotheringhay, but the currents of history have moved on.

 


The north-east corner of Northamptonshire is a rural backwater which has barely acknowledged the 20th century, let alone the 21st. A cluster of villages and small towns largely comprised of stone buildings nestle in a landscape of fields, through which the river Nene meanders towards Peterborough. Many of those houses are still owned by local estates such as Elton and Barnwell, although there has been some new development at Thrapston. There is a time capsule element to the area which is valued by many local people.

This state of affairs may seem to be natural, but it could have turned out differently. In amongst these villages is one, built on the river, barely ten miles from Peterborough, that six  centuries ago was at the centre of the political life of England; Fotheringhay.

Today, Fotheringhay is a hamlet with a population of less then two hundred people. It has an Inn, the Falcon, best described as a Gastro pub, quite close to its historic church and around forty houses. As you approach it you cross the river over an ancient stone bridge; looking to the right there is a mound.


This is the site of Fotheringhay castle, a Norman creation shortly after the conquest. At the beginning of the fifteenth century this was a family home for the Dukes of York. The first Duke, Edmund Langley, was the fourth son of King Edward the third. One of his sons died at Agincourt, the other, Richard, was executed before King Henry V left for France, for plotting to replace him with Roger Mortimer, Earl of March. His son, also called Richard, was a key player in the early rounds of the wars of the Roses.

Fotheringhay castle was therefore a significant locus for one of the factions and would have been visited by Yorkist supporters. Richard married Cecily Neville. Her family was a powerful one, especially in the North of England. She was the mother of two sons who would go on to be king. The second son, Richard, was born at Fotheringhay. His brother Edward reigned as Edward IV, supported by Richard. But when Edward died, his sons were pushed aside by their uncle, who became King Richard the third.

Fotheringhay might have developed into a significant town. Connected by the River Nene to Peterborough, a city that ranked with Norwich and Lincoln in importance during Medieval times, as well as Northampton to the west, there was no reason why it shouldn’t have expanded into a river port and trading town. The Great North Road (now the A1) ran north to Newark, Lincoln and York and south to London and lay less than ten miles to the east. History had other ideas, however. Two years after taking the throne, Richard died at the battle of Bosworth, fifty miles to the west of Fotheringhay. The castle now became suspect, a possession of the losing side. When Elizabeth the first visited, she found the tombs of Cecily Neville and other family members in a state of disrepair in the church.

The castle’s last act on the national stage was a tragic one. Elizabeth had her cousin, Mary Queen of Scots, imprisoned there. The choice of prison was no doubt influenced by the fact that although a “royal” residence, it was remote enough and by then obscure enough to house a troublesome hostage. When Elizabeth decided Mary had to die, the execution took place “out of sight” at Fotheringhay, rather than in London. Mary’s death, ordered reluctantly by Elizabeth, further damaged the reputation of the place and hastened its demise. In 1632, the castle, by then partly ruinous, was demolished. Some of its stones, in a major act of recycling, went to Oundle to be used to construct the Talbot Hotel.


Since then, although the Nene still flows past the site, the currents of history have abandoned Fotheringhay. But if you stand on the Mound you see what a great location for a castle it was, dominating a bend of the river. For those who live there, it is no doubt just home, who appreciate the peace and quiet. For those with imagination or a romantic turn of mind, there is just a hint, if you allow your mind to wander, of the significance of the place in the national story. Fotheringhay in its current incarnation is obscure, yet the fame of the name lives on.