Television Review: Happy Valley

I wanted to write this as soon as I'd seen the finale but time didn't permit. In hindsight, I'm glad I let my thoughts percolate for a little while - I've realised that the series as a whole was better than I thought a week ago. For those unfamiliar with the show, here's the gist. Happy Valley stars Sarah Lancashire as Sgt Catherine Cawood, a woman juggling her job with her dysfunctional home life. Her ex-heroin addict sister Clare (Siobhan Finneran) lives with her, as does grandson Ryan (Rhys Connah). He was the product of rape and his mother killed herself soon after his birth. Catherine's decision to look after Ryan led to the breakdown of her marriage and her relationship with her son. The other story in this is Kevin Weatherill's (Steve Pemberton). Having asked his boss, Nevison Gallagher (George Costigan) for a raise and been rejected, he makes the mistake of suggesting to a drug dealer than they should kidnap Gallagher's daughter and demand a ransom. This all starts to go pear-shaped rather quickly, especially when one of the men involved in the abduction turns out to be Tommy Lee Royce (James Norton), the man who raped Catherine's daughter...

It's difficult to articulate how superb a series this was. Any programme that makes you simultaneously long for the next episode and dread it in equal measure has to be doing something right. Sally Wainwright created a little simmering cauldron through a perfect script, brilliant casting and plain old twists and turns. It proved to be compelling viewing, especially from episode three onwards. The satirical title may have masked the viciousness of what was to come but you weren't in the dark for long.

Sarah Lancashire, rather predictably, was absolutely amazing. I saw plenty of comments surprised at that fact but, really, although the role is drastically different to her portrayal of Caroline in Last Tango in Halifax, that's the place to look for proof of her ability. Equally, the rest of the cast was excellent, even those who only appeared in a few episodes (see Karl Davies's performance in the final episode as Catherine's son for evidence there). For me, though, one of the best performances came from Siobhan Finneran as Clare. Steadfast with an air of fragility, I was getting really concerned about her towards the end of the series, having so much thrown at her.

Happy Valley was said to be too violent and it's certainly not easy viewing. Two episodes in particular will have you closing your eyes. However, it's something to be said that it doesn't trivialise violence. It shows it in all its horrible detail, finally dispelling the myth that people who are beaten badly get straight back up and bounce back. If anything is damaging to society, it's the view that violence doesn't leave physical or emotional scars. I think Happy Valley altered that with some haunting scenes that left me sleepless for nights afterwards.

Best series of the year? Definitely. Good luck to everyone trying to top this.

Bomb Girls Cancellation (Spoilers)

Bear with me. I don't usually get militant when shows I love are cancelled but, having watched the Bomb Girls S2 finale, in the knowledge that it may be the last time I see those characters, I bypassed upset and got angry. For those unfamiliar with the show, it tells the story of a group of women in a munitions factory in Toronto during World War II. It concluded its second series this week but last week it was announced that it's been cancelled. They have said there'll be a two-hour television movie next year to wrap up loose ends but, one, fans don't entirely believe them and, two, this deserves another series and not a tie-up movie.

I wrote in my email to Global as soon as I learned about the prospect of cancellation: Bomb Girls has a global appeal. It's a well-written show centred around women, and some very interesting women at that. It's sad that in 2013 this should still feel like a novelty but it does! To encounter four leading characters as different as Betty, Kate, Gladys and Lorna was wonderful for me and all credit to the writing team and the actors for that. I stand by those words. But not only is it a programme about strong women, it's about an important aspect of the war that hasn't been delved into properly. It's gold and that's why fans have come out fighting to save it.

I have to admit, like many fans there is one particular character I'm eager to save: Betty McRae. Like all of them, she is complex and brilliantly acted but her storyline over the two series has undoubtedly appealed to - and probably helped - lots of women all around the globe. Ali Liebert has been outstanding in every scene, but she shone especially in the finale. And all I can think at the moment is that it can't end like that. I mean, they've left Betty languishing in prison covering for the woman she loves. Yes, I predicted such a thing happening but that's only because I know these characters and I love these characters.

I've chuckled with these characters, I've been haunted by them. There's an industrial accident in series one that was one of the most traumatic scenes I've ever watched and I still think about it. Nor did the writers shy away from showing the repercussions of that accident in some of the most touching scenes I've seen on television in years. That's another thing I love about this team - they don't forget a thing because they know the viewer won't. Betty McRae fans found that out the hard way in the finale.

There are suggestions that the television network didn't treat the show right, budging it around the schedules in an effort to lower the ratings. And, some cynics have said, that the reason they have promised a movie is so that no other Canadian network picks the show up. THIS IS THE WRONG WAY TO TREAT YOUR AUDIENCES.

Bomb Girls still has potential. It has an outstanding cast and an outstanding production team. It's been nominated for awards and, as this fan backlash has demonstrated, it is intensely popular where people have heard of it. Below is the petition and some further reading. Signing the petition will only take a moment and there is a precedent in Canada for these type of campaigns working. So, please, donate a minute of your time and you'll have my eternal gratitude. 

Gladys and Lorna quoted Churchill on El Alamein in the final moments of the series finale: "Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end, but it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." Every Bomb Girls fan is hoping this proves prophetic. 

Petition

Toronto Standard Article

The Globe and Mail Article

Huffington Post Article 

Television Review: The Bletchley Circle

I was drawn to this series initially by the calibre of the cast. It stars Anna Maxwell Martin (who I adored in South Riding and The Night Watch), Rachael Stirling (Tipping the Velvet, enough said) and Julie Graham alongside a relative newcomer, Sophie Rundle. The four play women who worked at Bletchley Park during WWII but by 1952 they are leading mundane lives. That is until Susan (Martin) begins tracking the progress of a serial killer working his way around London (she has a collection of newspaper clippings tacked to the back of her bedroom mirror so that her husband doesn't find out). She spots a pattern in the killings and takes it to the police but, of course, they laugh her off. She feels she has no option to recruit the other girls for their various skills - Millie (Stirling), Jean (Graham) and Lucy (Rundle).

There are numerous twists in this one. Although we do catch sight of the killer 'at work', these moments mainly serve to heighten concern for the protagonists. They are four very clever women but they keep finding themselves stonewalled. When they finally do get the police to listen to them it becomes apparent that this may be bigger than any of them imagined.

The cast really were superb, though they were assisted by exceptional writing and wonderful period detail. The subject dictates that the drama should be dark and atmospheric and it succeeds. It offers a fresh twist on the period murder mysteries by introducing these four amateurs, all with different personalities and experiences since the end of the war. Intermingled with the suspense are snapshots of their lives - Millie quits her job in order to focus on the investigation while Lucy battles with her abusive husband. Susan, meanwhile, is pushing her own husband to his limits by refusing to tell him what's going on.

The Bletchley Circle succeeds on several levels, providing a tightly-plotted and compelling mystery drama that isn't a carbon copy of other programmes. I think it has potential to be a real hit and I hope that ITV have the courage to recommission it.

I Am Good (Possibly)

Today I attended a seminar group about how to teach seminar groups (yes, I know). One of the first little tasks we had to do was think of something we're good at. Whereas a year or so ago I would've dodged the question, desperate not to think of my many shortcomings, this time the answer shot straight into my head. Writing. I'm good at writing. It's actually very difficult to get me to say I'm half-decent at anything, despite people attempting to drum it into me (yes, Nicola, I'm looking at you). Today was a big step forward in my development. I am good at writing. I know I am. I also know there's plenty of room for improvement but I am on the path. It's like answering the tricky question of when you start to call yourself a 'proper' writer (I blogged about this last year). I think you have to be comfortable with whatever label you give yourself and how you measure your own success.

The next part of the task was to think what had made you good at your little something. Practice, that was my answer. Perseverance. Of course, that doesn't apply to just writing. Unless you're naturally gifted, everybody has to put in a little effort to get where they want to be.

Do you think Dorothy agrees or disagrees? I can't decide...

I Like Bonnets

I was listening to a little debate on the Radio 2 Jeremy Vine show yesterday. It basically asked whether people were fed up of 'bonnet dramas' and suggested that we need to stop living in the past. Some of the discussion was sensible but some of it was hostile in a way that rather infuriated me. People just wanted to ditch Downton Abbey and things of that ilk, never mind the fact that almost 10 million people tuned in to watch the opening episode of series two on Sunday. Those viewing figures, in today's television climate, are astronomical. If something is that popular why would you get rid of it just because it's a 'bonnet drama'?

Some of the criticisms were pretty spot-on. They ran a spoof of clichés usually encountered in period dramas; they questioned the sentimentalisation of history that prompts more sympathetic characterisation in situations which otherwise would reflect badly on them by modern standards. A Downton Abbey example of this would be Mrs Patmore's failing eyesight which is benevolently rectified by the Earl of Grantham in the first series. There is a danger that we're imposing our values on a society that wouldn't recognise them because we feel uncomfortable with the reality of our past. Nevertheless, I think the inaccuracies are overwhelmed by the sheer quality of the drama.

I wrote a piece last year about why Downton Abbey is a master-class in story-telling. I stick by that wholeheartedly. It doesn't matter what period a television series is set in: what matters is how the story is told and who the characters are. Downton Abbey had excellent scripts, an exceptional production team and a cast perfectly suited to their roles. Critics may sneer at the success but isn't it all a matter of taste?

Some commentators in the discussion yesterday claimed that there is too much of the 'bonnet drama' on television. Well, I'm sorry but that irritates me. There is plenty on television for people who don't enjoy drama: reality television viewers, soap addicts, chat show devotees are all catered for. Drama, if anything, is woeful in this country at the moment.We commission small runs of things, therefore leaving huge gaps in the schedules which is - in my own personal opinion - filled with dross. Saturday nights have become the home of reality television. I'm sorry but what about the rest of us who would only watch it if you tied us up and nailed our eyelids open? I'm forever frustrated by the pandering to reality television that channels do. The BBC is considering taking an axe to sections of their best channel BBC4 but are happy to shell out millions on a new reality import about choirs. What am I missing?

People who complain about the abundance of 'bonnet dramas' are within their rights to complain, of course. However, their criticism that we should focus more on modern society misses the richness of our heritage. I am happy to watch modern drama, I thoroughly enjoy some of it. But I don't appreciate the implication that just because a drama is about something old it's nothing to be interested in. That kind of mentality has thrown us into a fame-solves-all mentality where much of the youth in this country believes that if they get famous then they can live comfortably without having to do much. Watch some period drama; have your interest in a historical time or event piqued and go research it for yourself. We have precious few ways of connecting ourselves with our past but period dramas can become that connection.

But, most of all, I would ask people not to criticise something that is obviously filling a vacuum in British society. We like 'bonnet dramas'. So what? Your nectar may be my poison but I have to suffer. If you don't like it, don't watch. It's simple. 

Some Words On Satisfaction From W. Somerset Maugham

In the foreword to Of Human Bondage I found some words from Maugham which seem to sum up the writer's predicament:

Though authors are touchy about their productions and inclined to resent unfavourable criticism they are seldom self-satisfied. They are conscious how far the work on which they have spent much time and trouble comes short of their conception, and when they consider it are much more vexed with their failure to express this in its completeness than pleased with the passages here and there that they can regard with complacency. Their aim is perfection and they are wretchedly aware that they have not attained it.


We strive for an excellence we'll never achieve but where do you draw the line? When do you give up on perfecting something and settle for what it actually is on the page? Anybody who's serious about their craft knows that the first draft contains a myriad of errors. You have to resolve these to your satisfaction. But then you may think that your second draft is as incomplete as your first. So you try it again and again. You could spend your life trying to perfect one manuscript but if you manage to get it up to your exacting standards on one draft you'll become disillusioned with it on the next.

You have to let go. I'm terrible at this. I have two manuscripts I've redrafted four times apiece. I'll concede that they are a lot more coherent and structured than they were in the first draft. I'll admit they make me smile, want to cry and also ache in appropriate sections. My characters are much more rounded and realistic than when I first started and, for the most part, I think they sound more individual too. Yet I'm still not happy. I'll never be happy. I want to rework them a million times. If I allow myself that luxury there's no chance they'll see the light of day.

A good way of fighting this is passing your writing onto other people who will give you relatively honest criticism. If you let go long enough to allow one person to take a peek then you might be ready to face the hurdle of submission. I'm almost there. Actually, I am there. Maugham reminded me that absolute perfection is unattainable and you have to compromise with yourself sometimes.

Catherine Chanter

I'd like to draw your attention to an excellent short story writer.

Catherine Chanter has published a collection of stories which truly blew my socks off. I went through the terrible ordeal of desperately wanting to read each story but dreading what would happen when I'd finished the book. As it happened, I managed to spread it over a luscious five day period and several of the stories are still haunting me anyway.

The collection is called Rooms of the Mind and the title piece is a lengthy tale that takes the reader around each room of a house as the owner prepares to sell it. As each room is uncovered so is the disturbing life of the owner. Chanter isn't reluctant to play around with form - 'Rooms of the Mind' is set out under the headings of each room and another story, 'A Summary of Findings', has a colloquial tone but contains welfare-style notes at the bottom commenting on the case.

In the shorter tales Chanter immediately plunges you into the world of the character but without revealing anything that may impede enjoyment of the tale. Reading the stories is a delicious exercise - you may have your suspicions about where it's headed but you don't want to ruin your enjoyment of the way it unfolds. One such story is 'The Prologue', a tale that deals with modern themes and preoccupations, as do most in the book.

The collection is off-kilter and strange as the blurb suggests. Out of the eleven stories I only had trouble accessing one. 'You Come Here' is the tale of a woman who gave her daughter up for adoption forty years ago. What makes it difficult to read are the introverted ramblings of the protagonist but, far from being a disposable accessory, these are integral to the unravelling of the woman's story. I personally found it a little difficult to access, even though I enjoyed it in the end.

I bought this book after seeing the cover and very short description in the Inpress Catalogue. For some reason it jumped out at me and I'm exceptionally grateful it did. I'm looking forward to reading these stories again in the not-too-distant future.

Rooms of the Mind is available to buy here.

Book Review: The Good Doctor by Damon Galgut

I picked up this book from one of the tables in Waterstone's, proving that sometimes they put a gem amongst the popular autobiographies that drive me up the wall. The Good Doctor was shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize in 2003 and the consensus amongst critics seems to be that iy should certainly have won. After reading, I can only agree.

Galgut approaches his setting delicately. The barren landscape which he imprints onto his reader could easily have been over-described but he highlights detail impeccably. The trees are 'ragged', the fountain is 'dry and full of old sand at the bottom'. Nor does he fail in creating a complete picture. By the end of the novel the town is a vivid image, solidified in the reader's head by a vast array of details, most of which exuded a brown murky colour into my imagination.

Indeed, in many ways this is a colourless novel. It deals with change: aversion to it, reaction to it, pursuance of it. In a nutshell, the narrator, Frank, works at a hospital which is unused and desolate. It was built as a symbol and remains one, even as the people supposedly working there see their lives passing unnoticed. The status quo is upset by a new arrival, Laurence, who sees the emptiness and, in a rather idealistic fashion, wants to create a functioning hospital from what is currently an empty shell. That's the main plot, although Galgut skilfully weaves in subplots and incidental characters whose reverberations contribute to the book as a whole.

It's a relatively short book at just over two hundred pages, but easily one that could be completed in one sitting. I allowed myself to be swept away by the simplicity of Galgut's prose whilst marvelling in his ability to take on massive issues and convey them without lecturing. It's a strength of his characterisation that at no point does the novel feel like a history lesson. Statements that could feel like sermons from a lesser writer slip easily out of the mouths of his characters.

For such a small book it's packed with information and detail. No sentence feels superfluous; no description incidental. There are scenes that I feel end too soon but that's as much about personal preference as any serious reflection on the book.

Simply put, this is one of the most thought-provoking and haunting novels I've read in a long time and I have a feeling I'll be revisiting it soon.

The Good Doctor is available here.

Jackie Kay & Gay Icons

Last night I went to Sheffield to hear writer, Jackie Kay, talk as part of the Gay Icons project. Aside from being an entertaining evening which added several things to my already-extensive fun-reading list, her response to one of the audience questions raised an important issue, I thought.

Someone questioned why she'd referred to more gay men than lesbians as her icons in this brief talk. In a nutshell, her response was that it didn't really matter about their gender, they all had inspiring aspects to them. And that, I think, was the key issue for me.

Unfortunately, we still live in a world where a celebration of gay icons like the one taking place in Sheffield at the moment is necessary. The news of the United Nations dropping homosexuality from its anti-execution resolution is a stark reminder that around the world people are still heavily persecuted simply for who they love. Events like this one in Sheffield are a celebration of the fact that in the UK it's acceptable to have gay icons and to shout it from the rooftops if you so wish.

My problem is just the old issue: we want to be the same as everybody else and yet we accentuate our differences.

Perhaps, that's unfair. It's hardly accentuating a difference to reveal that this gay man or this lesbian inspired you in some way. What perturbed me was that people seem to expect that your icons will automatically be in 'your group', so in Jackie's case they should be lesbians. Maybe this was a fair assumption coming from a room full of women but I don't think a lesbian should necessarily have to exclude gay men from a discussion about gay icons. In fact, I don't completely buy into the idea that we should be celebrating gay icons at all.

Please don't misunderstand me: I'm not saying that Alexander McQueen or Quentin Crisp or Leonard Bernstein should be celebrated with the gay aspect hushed up. I may be idealistic but I'm still hoping for the day when it becomes less of a jaw-dropping fact for someone famous (and I use that word with a cringe) to come out. But I hate the fact that if you ask a lesbian writer for her inspirations and she cites people aside from other lesbian writers then the listener automatically feels a little disappointment.

I hate the grouping prevalent within society - as most of us do. If someone asks me for my modern literary icons in a few years I want to reel off my list without worrying whether it fits someone's perspective of how I should answer.

For the record, my literary icons right now would be: Sophie Hannah, Kate Atkinson and Sarah Waters, to name but three. I can justify my choices at length but I refuse to change them to fit what someone else expects.

Classic Openings: Behind The Scenes At The Museum

I first read this book as part of my undergraduate degree. After first obstinately disliking it (I think that was due to someone I disliked exalting it), I came to love it.

Behind The Scenes At The Museum by Kate Atkinson

I exist! I am conceived to the chimes of midnight on the clock on the mantelpiece in the room across the hall. The clock once belonged to my great-grandmother (a woman called Alice) and its tired chime counts me into the world. I'm begun on the first stroke and finished on the last when my father rolls off my mother and is plunged into a dreamless sleep, thanks to the five pints of John Smiths's Best Bitter he has drunk in the Punch Bowl with his friends, Walter and Bernard Belling. At the moment at which I moved from nothingness into being my mother was pretending to be asleep - as she often does at such moments. My father, however, is made of stern stuff and he didn't let that put him off.

I could quote at length from this book but instead I'll just urge you to read it and focus on some of the highlights of the opening.

1. Narrative voice is established. I keep coming back to this point but establishing a solid narrative voice early on is one of the best lifelines you can throw your reader. If they grip onto, and sympathise with, an interesting narrator then they're likely to stick with your story. As it happens, Ruby Lennox is one of the funniest narrators I've ever come into contact with. Truly a fantastic creation from Atkinson.

2. The simplest opening line possible. 'I exist!' It comes down to common-sense, perhaps, but starting a novel with that plain statement sets the novel in a particular context. It indicates to the reader that it's going to be a life-story told from a first-person narrative perspective. Instantly, the reader should be alerted to all the perils that entails - something which will return with a vengeance later. So, aside from instantly establishing character, those two words produce an idea of the style of the coming narrative. More than that, it also places the narrator in the compromising situation of relating things she has no direct knowledge of. Unless, of course, we're to assume that from the moment of conception she has interpretative skills.

3. The illuminating details. A technique Atkinson uses to great effect throughout the novel is the use of specifics to illustrate authenticity. Mentioning the beer Ruby's father drinks and the origins of the clock are amongst the aspects which conspire to give the novel a veneer of realism.

Purchase Behind The Scenes At The Museum here.

Downton Abbey S1: A Master-Class In Storytelling

Perhaps my review of this exquisite series of television drama could be summed up by the title alone. Many people have already expressed quite articulately why Downton Abbey is the best thing to happen to British drama in years. I'd just like to add a few points from a writer's perspective.

I deliberately waited until I'd watched the DVD through before I wrote this. I wanted to see if I caught anything I missed the first time around and I wanted to see how well it flowed as seven episodes placed one after the other. A lot has been made of the time frame and how irritating it seems for the series to begin with the sinking of the Titanic and end with the advent of WWI. I admit that on first viewing I found it jarred a little, but when I watched again and realised that several months pass within the first episode alone, it doesn't seem quite so terrible. If anything, it demonstrates the monotony of life, especially for the servants. It also allows for development of relationships so they can reach the point they need to before the close of the series.

One of those is, of course, Lady Mary and Matthew Crawley, the cousins whose marriage would be the answer to the family prayers but who aren't eager to be pushed into a match of convenience. Their relationship development is curious but almost inevitable, although writer, Julian Fellowes, is adamant it shouldn't be an easy ride. Throw in potential dalliances with Mary's sisters and Mary's own disastrous fling with a Turk who proceeds to die in her bed and you've got a very Edwardian soap opera. However, the sparks between Mary and Matthew are evident from their first encounter when Matthew despairs of having one of the Earl's daughters thrown at him. Their ending, while not happy, leaves potential and seems to suit the characters. After all, following their tumultuous ride through the series a conventional happy ending would've been rather bizarre.

Fellowes is careful to offer a good balance of relatively 'happy' endings along with the more open ones. Gwen, for instance, lands her dream job as a secretary, after a lengthy bid to escape service. There also seems to be hope for Daisy and William who appear set on a sweet little romance after a series of maybes. Troublemaker, Thomas, escapes service and the perils of dying on the battlefield by applying to join the doctors while Mrs Patmore regains her sight and is back to her formidable self.

Then there are the questions left unanswered. Lady Edith has hardly been a model of purity throughout the series. However, far from being a motiveless harridan, the forces that have made her the jealous woman she is are demonstrated directly to the audience. All thoughts have always been on Mary's marriage and Sybil has the sweetness to shine as the younger daughter. As Robert and Cora discuss in one episode, Edith is probably the one to look after them in their old age. Treated as such her entire life is it any wonder Mary inspires such jealousy in her sister? Her acts against Mary aren't completely justified but they are at least explained. It is also unhelpful that Edith was in love with the man Mary was reluctantly set to marry. Throughout, the sisters torture each other whenever opportunity arises and their antipathy towards each other is always simmering underneath. However badly Edith has treated Mary, though, I still felt sympathy for her when Mary took her revenge and scuppered her hopes of marriage with Sir Anthony.

The love story between Anna and Mr Bates is perhaps my favourite aspect of the entire series. Very shrewdly painted at first, it soon developed into something that was evidently mutual and beautiful to watch. Joanne Froggatt has been in the habit of scene-stealing in everything I've seen her in and this was no different. Such a straightforward character who holds the knowledge that there are some things she can't influence. Two of my favourite scenes had to be the dual scenes that, in effect, book-ended their opening flirtations. When Anna takes a tray up to Mr Bates in the first episode she hears him crying and deftly avoids showing she has heard while asking him to keep in touch when he leaves. A few episodes later Bates reciprocates the gesture, taking a tray up to a sick Anna even though it's strictly forbidden for her to open the door to him. The symbolism of that gesture is just one of the many light touches that Fellowes left for examination but, beside that point, it's a beautiful scene that demonstrates their relationship growth sweetly.

I can't possibly cover everything in this review so I'll wrap up with just a few more points. Sybil is a remarkable advocate for the coming independence of women, intelligent and self-assured even within a constrained environment. Mrs Hughes and Carson are exceptionally understated characters whose complexity I can't even begin to justify with limited space. Not one character was left out in gaining some sort of development, even if they only appeared in a few episodes, as was the case with Molesley and Branson. Also, the precision of the plots are evident on second viewing. The deliberate viewing of the snuff boxes in episode one sets up the theft in a later episode, for instance. There are recurring themes - Mrs Patmore's indignation at not being able to manage her own stores and Robert's irritation with O'Brien as his wife's maid. Nothing is really forgotten from episode to episode.

I am delighted there will be a second series but I won't speculate on the changes that Downton will have to undergo as the war takes hold. I'd just like to finish the review by pointing out that Maggie Smith's portrayal of the Dowager Countess was the most inspired and yet obvious piece of casting I've encountered in a long time. Her line delivery inevitably stole every episode and I won't be forgetting her interaction with a swivel chair at any time in the near future.

Yes, there were historical inaccuracies. But truth sacrificed briefly in the name of excellent drama is something I'm happy to compromise on. What Downton Abbey portrayed to perfection was a group of people and their interaction with the difficult world around them. What else is good drama about if not that?