Grantown revisted

It was Grantown again and I was let loose with my wee daft camera.  Douglas Skelton, who has guest blogged for us, is a very talented photographer so I wanted to put my efforts on Facebook to make him look talented.

                                                               Here is a house. 

And how spooky does it look in dramatic monochrome. I think my soul is the colour of dramatic monochrome.

The black and white house is certainly more scary than the window of the Scottish Hydro Electric's  couple of white sheets draped over a coat hanger.

The wee bookshop where it all happens.

Yes there is an entire shop devoted to nothing but shortbread.  But their Halloween effort wasn't all that convincing.

The signpost to Tomintoul, which is always the first road in Scotland to be blocked by snow.   Once you hear that on the news you know winter is here.

The church in pretty pastels.

Becomes some Goth horror when in dramatic monochrome.

The other wee church as it is.

And then it fades to sepia.

Like a lot of local houses here on one side of the front door is the living room and the other side of the front door is the pavement it’s great for looking in folks’ windows.

I wonder how many kilt makers go past here?

Grantown High Street 5pm.

The street scene with big tree.

The same scene with a special button on.

The big posh hotel in Grantown.

Do you think it’s a wee bit drafty here … do you see what I did here?

Picture box pretty.

A nice wee hut in colour.

Becomes a body deposition site in black and white.

With a wee touch of The Waltons when it goes into sepia.

The big church … it is common for Scottish villages to have an awful lot of churches.

The same place with miniature effect.

And a rather pleasing highpoint colour.

The snug in the hotel.

At the first event which was in a coffee house wee Marjory is four feet ten and that is her standing up.  The authors are Graham Macrae Burnet, Shirley McKay and Shona MacLean.

                                 

Marjory trying  to bring  order to the coffee house... and failing.

Graham Macrae Burnet trying  to ignore the wee pink posy.

Books for sale

                                        Shona MacLean who had a very famous uncle...

Cakes and coffee being steadily devoured...

Shirley waxing lyrical on Scotland, the plague and 1587 or thereabouts...

Back to the snug

On the road home, the real colours

The road out,

The last picture of Grantown

I don't have any pictures of me doing anything as my faithful photographer was on Halloween uncle duty!!


Caro Ramsay 06/11/2015

My kind of town

Stanley - Thursday

Happy Guy Fawkes Day!

Due to the unfortunate closure of Mystery One bookstore in Milwaukee, we had a free day yesterday.  We enjoyed amazing weather in Chicago - 70 degrees (20 C) and sunny.  At the beginning of November?  Gadzooks.

So we took the opportunity to enjoy a cruise on the Chicago River and associated waterways narrated by a docent from the Architects Guild, or whatever it is called.  The idea of the trip was to learn about Chicago's magnificent architecture.

When I was at the university of Illinois Urbana Champaign in the 1970s and early 80s, I visited Chicago every other week, to play squash, to visit friends, or to go to one of the many museums.  I always thought it was a wonderful city.

Today's trip reinforced that opinion.  The city has seen many spectacular new buildings soar over the past twenty years, and a boat trip is the best way to see it all.

So here are some photos from the trip.  If you haven't visited Chicago before, you should really try to do so.  It is magnificent.

After the tragic fire of October, 1871, the city fathers decided to rebuild the city in an organised way.  In addition, they wanted it to be Paris on the prairie.  Hence so many buildings that have a Parisian feel.  Since then, architects from around the world have graced the city with gorgeous buildings.

The Trump Tower (90 stories) towers over the Wrigley Building

One of the many bridges across the Chicago River, which now runs out of Lake Michigan.  It used to run into it, but its direction was purposely reversed so that all the revolting things that were thrown into it didn't land up in the lake from which the drinking water was drawn.  The water now runs along miles of canals eventually going into the Mississippi, which means that St. Louis gets all of Chicago's polluted water!

Marina City with two towers built to look like corn cobs.  The first building in the country to be built with tower cranes.  65 stories high..

One of my favourite buildings anywhere - 333 West Wacker Drive

Art Deco windows

The Montgomery Ward distribution centre.  Employees used roller skates to move around because it was so big.

High-rise residential

Built with a small footprint for two reasons: to avoid the railway lines, and to provide some park space underneath.

The Lyric Opera House

Low rent district 1

Low rent district 2

What was called the Sears Tower (the black building).  Now the Willis Tower.  Once the tallest building in the world.

Willis Tower again

The 'L' - the elevated metro system.

The gorgeous Merchandise Mart - now called the Mart.

Chicago Tribune building with the Wrigley Building on the left

The amazing Lake Point Towers (on the right) - built in violation of code.  The old Chicago practice of apologising afterwards!

Trump Tower next to the Wrigley Building

The amazing Millennium Bean - the reflections are stunning

That's me taking the photo of the reflection of me and Michael

Reflections 1

Reflections 2

Reflections 3

Walking through the bean

Chicago from Millennium Park

A Taste of Literary New York

Sujata Massey

One of the perks of East Coast life is the freedom to visit other cities within just a few hours. Recently I caught a 6:30 charter bus to New York City and was midtown by 9:45. I'd temporarily abandoned my peeps in Baltimore to enact a very pleasant yearly ritual: my New York literary weekend. It was a short walk from my friend’s apartment in Cooper Square to Union Square. 

Along Fourth Avenue lies a section once known as Book Row. Only a few bookshops remain out of the 48 that once flourished during the Edwardian era. Still, it was a happy sight to see books and browsers, and the very best bookstore in America is still open nearby.

Yes, I hit the Strand. Inside, big wooden tables were loaded with thousands of brand new books, in addition to venerable old ones packed tightly on industrial shelving that took up a supposed “18 miles” of space. I was astonished by the hordes of intense-looking employees—a number I couldn’t begin to count. Hundreds of customers swirled around me, and getting near a particular bookshelf was a give-and-take between people as carefully negotiated as entering the subway.


Soho Press was around the corner. I met with my new editor, Juliet Grames, and the marketing and publications staff. An energizing conversation was chased by a tasty lunch at a nearby Japanese restaurant. I left a few hours later with Soho’s cute “Crime Has No Time Zone” bag loaded up with the latest from David Downing, Mette Ivie Harrison and Andromeda Romano-Lax. 

Dev Patel plays the lost genius Ramunajan in the film version of The Man Who Knew Infinity

My happy publishing afternoon continued with a cup of tea with my literary agent, Vicky Bijur. As we talked about my career and the general future for fiction, our conversation turned to the good news that three of Vicky’s authors have had books turned into major films in the last year…one of these, The Man Who Knew Infinity by Robert Kanigel, is an Indian historical biography of Ramunajan, the mathematician. The film stars two of my favorite guys: Dev Patel and Jeremy Irons.

As Friday wound down, I sat in a Union Square coffee shop with my cousin, Suman Bhattacharya, who also writes fiction. I was intrigued to hear about Suman’s latest novel-in-progress set in a modern slum in Kolkata. The American agent who received his query asked whether there was a white male character in the storyline. My cousin’s depressing report reminded me of some chats screenwriters interested in transferring my Japanese mysteries to US locations and characters. I encouraged him not to give up.

Still, this quandary was on my mind as I headed over to the Indo-American Arts Council’s second annual literary festival. I was so eager for the festival that I was one of the first people to arrive at the new location at Hunter College. The challenge of getting decision-makers to accept diverse works of fiction was a recurring topic on many panels, including one on how to break into publishing, and another about writing for film.

Sujata Massey, Maya Lang, Tania James and Mira Jacob 

I moderated a panel on Sunday with three terrific women literary fiction authors. We discussed whether we thought we wrote different kinds of books because of our gender, and how audiences reacted when several of us chose to write about characters and places that didn’t seem to match up with our Asian names. It was a lively roundtable discussion. One of the panelists, Mira Jacob, recently wrote a Buzzfeed commentary about her odd experience of being talked over while giving a speech on race at a Publishers Weekly event. Mira said the net result of the ignoring drew more far more attention to the issue than a successful speech would have.

 How do we create original, creative books that will be embraced by the English-language publishing universe? Believe it or not, this concern also applies to cookbook authors. Many big Indian foodies abhor the way food is typically photographed in brass dishes, and old-time Punjabi recipes are served a continuous loop. They want to convince us to cook differently.

Food writer Suvir Saran and India's TV journo Saransh Goila react to a question from  from novelist/blogger Pia Padukone

At a panel titled “The Hot New Genre of Food Writing,” a couple of Michelin-rated chefs, an Indian culinary TV host, and a US-based food writer shared tales of beloved family members who set them on their paths and the joy of using with spices with local, organic fruits and vegetables particular to North America. My appetite was whetted, and I wished I’d had a chance to eat at the panelists’ restaurants: Vikas Khanna’s Junoon, and Suvir Saran’s Devi. I also regretted missing the big interview with food writer/actress Madhur Jaffrey on Thursday, and another book talk with writer/actress/Top Chef host Padma Lakshmi.

A final bite and drink at Morrell's withSuvir Saran's Masala Farm

Ten new books barely fit in the three bags I packed at festival's end. As I awaited my bus at a bar near Rockefeller Center,  I realized that, for me, books are the seventh food group. Visiting one of the world’s great publishing capitals each year replenishes the pantry within my heart.

The Pumpkin Apocalypse--A Historical Halloween Tale

Susan--  Sunday 

When I walked out onto the porch this morning, I discovered a scattered pile of pumpkin guts and the following diary, carved into the back of a gourd with a sharpened pumpkin seed. What follows is a tale of history, mystery, and murder most foul...

Apocalypse Diary: Day 1.

We believe the infection started with Jack.

At first, no one noticed, because Jack was always a little bit weird.

Beware of Jack - he's not looking well.

He claimed he was descended from the very first Jack-o-Lantern..the one carried by Stingy Jack himself.

According to an ancient legend, Stingy Jack played a trick on the Devil, and forced Old Nick to promise never to claim Jack's soul. When old Jack died, his dealings with the Devil barred him from heaven, but his deal with the Devil barred him from hell as well, so Jack was cursed to roam the earth forever, lighting his way with a lantern carved from a turnip.

The Irish called him "Jack-o-the-Lantern," and it's from Jack that our modern Jack-o-lanterns take their name.

But Jack was a pumpkin--not a turnip - and Jack was the first to go.

Apocalypse Diary: Day 7.

Jack bit Will, and shortly thereafter, Will wasn't looking so good either.

Don't mess with Will.

Within two days, he thought he was a turnip.

Granted, the original Jack-o-Lanterns were made from turnips, and the humans have been turning us into lanterns for almost a thousand years. The Maori word 'Ue means both "gourd" and "lampshade." Still, things weren't looking good for Will.

Apocalypse Diary, Day 15.

We now have confirmation that it started with the little ones.

Poor Maude. I wish I could say she didn't see it coming.

Jack-o-lantern carving started with the small ones, too. It wasn't originally pumpkins people selected for this purpose. During the 19th century, the people of Ireland and Britain carved their lanterns out of turnips and mangel beets.

Apocalypse Diary, Day 19.

The original Jack-o-Lanterns were used to ward off evil spirits during Samhain--and also to represent the souls of the dead who waited for judgment in purgatory. The confluence of Samhain and All-Hallows' Eve (the night before All-Saints' Day, November 1) created plenty of historical opportunities to think about the dead.

At the moment, I'm too busy worrying about what's happened to Ed. He says he's fine, but something in his eyes says he's no longer to be trusted...

This is Ed. He's not well.

Apocalypse Diary, Day 31.

I am now the sole survivor.

As the sun set, Ed and Malcolm took out Trudy.

Halloween Gone Bad.

As early as 1900, articles in The New York Times recommended carving a Jack-o-Lantern to light the holiday table--but at Thanksgiving, not for Halloween. Pumpkin carving was part of autumn festivities generally long before people started putting us on their porches to welcome trick-or-treaters in fantastic costumes.

Speaking of which...I hear them coming. The children don't suspect the terrible truth about what's happening here. They laugh and point when they come to the door, completely unaware of either the history of our species or the terrible plague that has turned my friends to monsters.

Nerf darts - sadly ineffective against zombie pumpkins.

I've fired off all my ammunition, but the zombies haven't stopped. I can only hope they'll leave when the candles burn out and there's nothing left to eat.

As for me, I'm safe--for the moment. I found the last of the tea lights, and I have enough to last the night at least...unless they find me.

The lone survivor.

The irony of my predicament does not escape me. Jack-o-lanterns originated as a way to protect the humans' homes from the undead. Now, we are the undead.

May the Great Pumpkin protect us all.