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Demon Copperhead by Barbara Kingsolver

I’ve finished! Longest book I’ve read for a while (546 pages) … and I didn’t abandon it.

I read the novel a chapter at a time, and occasionally not even that. The reason was the lack of minutes in my day, but each time I picked the book up, I was surprised to find myself engrossed again.

The reason I think is the voice. Demon Copperfield’s voice. It is fascinating, trapped like a stone in a barrel rolling down a hill, the barrel being the Appalachian community that Demon finds himself born into. Both his personal circumstances and the community are potholed with hardship, and his own path through them as dysfunctional as any.

Orphaned as a young child Demon is reliant on the damaged hands of others – foster carers, relatives, guardians. He bounces from one difficult situation to the next, always hopeful that things will get better. But they don’t seem too.

In his late teens his body shows real sporting potential, but when that too suffers breakdown the cracks in his life split wide open. Vulnerable and willing they are soon stuffed with drugs, some prescription and some not, all available and seemingly everywhere.

“I stopped caring around this point because the little white submarine-shaped pill he’d given me to swallow was starting to sing its pretty song in my head.”

And down Demon goes, taking us with him, and showing us why through this book. Its pace is as fast as a young child growing, its tragedy as restless as Demon as he searches for a way out.

I found the story engrossing, and feel richer for having read it. If you have the time, and like a strong voice, I think you’ll enjoy this.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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Salisbury Cathedral – art from a distance

I tend to prefer trees to buildings, but there is something so compelling about Salisbury Cathedral.

We were there on a sometimes-sunny Sunday, and walked along a footpath beside the Harnham Water Meadows towards the cathedral. At each sight of it between the trees I stopped. The green seemed to raise the spire higher, and the spire to emphasise the green spread out at its feet. It all looked so beautiful and balanced, truly belonging where it stood, and as though not much had changed since it was completed in 1238.

Two things I’ve discovered since that visit are, first, that Salisbury Cathedral was never part of a monastery, and second, that other medieval cathedrals attempted spires similar to Salisbury’s but many collapsed.

If you would like to find out a bit more about Salisbury Cathedral this video will give you a tour. It includes close-ups of some of the over four decades of restoration work that have been completed recently.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023

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Attention grabbing – the first sentence

There are two reasons for this postcard today. The first is a course I did looking at the opening lines in children’s literature, and the second is a headline I heard on today’s news.

I’ll start with the headline. This is from The Straits Times: “US military asks for help finding its lost stealth jet” Losing a stealth jet? Of course I want to know happens next.

It’s the same with the first sentence of each of these novels, picked from the bookcase a few minutes ago.

“Wilson sat on the balcony of the Bedford Hotel with his bald pink knees thrust against the ironwork.” The Heart of the Matter by Graham Greene

“I discovered the hiding place because the ball ended up there.” The Day Before Happiness by Erri De Luca

“I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice – not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother’s death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany.” a prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving

“Two years before leaving home my father said to my mother that I was very ugly.” The Lying Life of Adults by Elena Ferrante

“At 7.45 on the morning of November 28, 1931, a young woman in the first stage of labour was handed by her husband into Lismore’s only hackney-car.” Wheels within Wheels – The Making of a Traveller by Dervla Murphy

“There is a fish in the mirror.” This Mournable Body by Tsitsi Dangarembga

For me, each of the above is like a keyhole, giving a glimpse and tempting me to step inside and close the door.

Copyright Georgie Knaggs & The Phraser 2023