Europe Archive

East Anglia on my mind

I’ve got East Anglia rather than Carolina on my mind. In the past week, I’ve watched Richard Alwyn’s quirky BBC4 film Into the Wind, in which he follows Tim Dee’s attempts to capture “the song of the earth” on The Wash (right); finished reading Richard Mabey’s Nature Cure (which I should have read a long time ago); and dipped into a recent (2015) anthology, Est, from the independent publisher Dunlin Press (one of whose founders, Martin Bewick, has, I see, just brought out a volume of his own poetry, Scarecrow).

Dee has spent much of his life recording people (often poets) in and out of doors for radio. He says that as he has grown older he has become “more and more keen on listening to the sound of the world after we’ve all shut up.” That’s what he sets out to do around the Wash, with Alwyn following his efforts.

It is, essentially, a film of a bloke wandering around, talking about the weather and trying to record pure wind. There’s not much to see beyond long flats and big skies, not a lot happens, and the viewer is denied close-ups of the birds Dee watches from time to time through his binoculars. It shouldn’t work as a piece of TV, and yet it does. If you missed it last week, it’s still available (for another few weeks) on the BBC iPlayer.

Richard Mabey is another man with a keen ear for wild sounds. Until February, when I picked up Nature Cure while browsing in a bookshop, I’d been familiar with his reputation, but not with his writing. The author of some 30 books, including the bestselling Flora Britannica and a prize-winning biography of Gilbert White, he has long been regarded as one of Britain’s finest writers on the natural world. Nature Cure makes a pretty good introduction to the man and his work. It’s about the depression that overcame him when he had finished writing Flora Britannica, his forced removal from a house in the Chiltern Hills where he had lived for half a century and his relocation to an entirely different landscape, in Norfolk. Arriving there, in a mood as long and low as the fens, he came to feel, over the space of a year, the “healing currents of the outdoors.”

Those currents are in evidence, too, in Est: Collected Reports from East Anglia, edited by MW — Martin — Bewick and Ella Johnston (co-founder of Dunlin Press). It’s a collection of prose and  poetry by people with an interest in East Anglia — a landscape that, in the view of the novelist and film-maker Chris Petit, who has written a foreword, is “the most cinematic… that we have.”

Contributors include Rosie Sandler, who lives near Maldon, in Essex, but was born in the North, where she “learned a hundred words for rain, spooned from my grandmother’s lips”. For her, East Anglia is a place

where there’s no need
for rain
because it’s everywhere:

this estuary
gaping its teeth
to the sky,
spitting out herons
and egrets,
gargling swans like gutturals.

New Jersey to the Hebrides

“Seventeen square miles in eight minutes of latitude may be the next thing to nothing,” writes John McPhee, “but after a short time it becomes a continent.” The continent is Colonsay, in the Hebrides, land of his forefathers, to which McPhee moved his family from New Jersey in 1969 to write an account that originally appeared in The New Yorker.

His portrait of the island, its inhabitants and their absentee landlord, The Crofter and The Laird, the third of his books to be republished in Britain by Daunt Books (£9.99, paperback), is both fond and frank. When it was written, Britain was on the verge of entering “the Common Market”, but some things probably haven’t changed, including the speed with which word gets around. When a chicken ran under the wheels of his car, McPhee says, “News of the death… apparently reached every ear on the island before the pinfeathers had settled to the ground.”

Fences on the ground and in the head: Kapka Kassabova’s ‘Border’

Kapka Kassabova’s Border is one of the best travel books — indeed, one of the best non-fiction books — I’ve read in a while. It’s about the land where Bulgaria, Greece and Turkey run into one another. It’s also about fences both on the ground and in the head; about the frontiers between the real and the imagined, between the scientifically proven and the remotely possible. My review of it, which appeared in print in The Daily Telegraph last weekend, is now online on Deskbound Traveller.

You might also enjoy pieces Kassabova has written recently for The New Statesman and The Guardian and an earlier one (from 2014) for 1843 magazine (formerly Intelligent Life), part of The Economist group.

On the Irish border with Garrett Carr

Book of the Week on Radio 4 from 9.45am today is Garrett Carr’s The Rule of the Land, which I have mentioned a few times on Deskbound Traveller.

Peregrine’s Tour de France

Anthony Peregrine left Lancashire for the Languedoc three decades ago and has been writing about his adopted country ever since, quite often in the pages of The Daily Telegraph. He’s just begun his own 2017 “Tour de France”, and opens in Roussillon with his unmatchable joie de vivre.

Travelling on the airwaves

The Irish novelist Colm Tóibín has had an enduring relationship with Barcelona. He first went there at the age of 20 in September 1975 — shortly before the death of Franco —  and stayed on for three years to teach English, returning 10 years later to write his love letter to the city, Homage to Barcelona. He has just been back again for a programme in the Radio 4 series Reimagining the City, broadcast this morning.

I thought I knew a bit about Barcelona (though it’s 15 years since I last spent much time there), but some of what he said was new to me, including his revelation that the revival of the old part owes much to an influx over the past 20 years of Pakistanis. The new arrivals, he says, have been welcomed by the Catalans, with whom they share a belief in hard work and intense family business.

The first part of Laura Barton’s 24 Hours of Sunset (see below) went out on Radio 4 on Thursday and can now be heard on iPlayer. The second part, which takes her from Sunset Strip out to the coast, will be aired next Thursday.

Earlier in the week on Radio 4, Start the Week, under the chairmanship of Amol Rajan, editor-at-large of The Independent, touched on both the physical landscape of the British Isles and the mental and moral one. The contributors were Nicholas Crane, whose new book is The Making of the British Landscape: From the Ice Age to the Present;  Madeleine Bunting, author of Love of Country: A Hebridean Journey; the historian David Olusoga, presenter of the new BBC2 series Black and British: A Forgotten History; and Imtiaz Dharker, who was part of a “Shore to Shore” tour from Falmouth to St Andrews by four female poets earlier this year.

To the Fens with Pavord

Anna Pavord, for the Telegraph Review, turned her keen gaze at the weekend on Britain’s biggest man-made landscape, the 400,000 acres of the Fens, subject of a new photographic book, Farmed, by Paul Hart.

Naughtie’s thrilling love letter to Paris

James Naughtie’s new spy thriller, Paris Spring (Head of Zeus), has impressed Allan Massie in The Scotsman — partly because it gets the city spot on:

“Setting is essential to any novel of adventure, and this one is enriched by Naughtie’s knowledge of Paris and his ability to evoke the feel and atmosphere of the city. If you know Paris, you will delight in following [the hero’s] movements about the city. If you don’t, then I suggest that your enjoyment of the novel will be enhanced if you read it with a street-map of Paris to hand. It can indeed also be read as a love-letter addressed to Paris.”

Walking in the rain

rainjkt“If you only ever go out on sunny days, you only see half the picture,” Melissa Harrison writes in Rain: Four Walks in English Weather (Faber & Faber).

Having been born in Northern Ireland (where if you wait until “a plump” is over you’ll never get  anywhere), I knew that already, but I still enjoyed this sparkling shower of a book, in which she combines her outings across Wicken Fen, Shropshire, the Darent Valley and Dartmoor with weather lore, science, memoir and “a little conjecture”.

Try it: it’s a book that makes you want to be out in the wet.

Soundscapes with Laura Barton

Radio 4 has an excellent new series, Notes from a Musical Island, in which Laura Barton visits four parts of Britain to explore connections between place and music. It’s so good, indeed, that having listened to it this morning on the radio I opened up the BBC iPlayer on my phone to hear it all over again.

For the first episode, she visits musicians who live by the water in North-East England, from folkies to punks. There’s a physicality to the music here, she says, “that seems to reflect the muscularity of the landscape and the way of life”. Among those she meets is the piper and fiddler Kathryn Tickell, who has the River Rede running “worryingly close” to her house — and opens the back door so we can hear it. Tickell tells how she wrote a song about a local stream, Hareshaw Burn, making the tune change course and time signature in accordance with the flow of the water. Then the tune “got out of hand”. A year later, there were massive floods in which Hareshaw Burn burst its banks…

In The Guardian, Barton writes about where else the series has taken her.