The One-in-a-Million Boy

Come join us!  

Because I should be writing (my September deadline for the first draft of my next novel is steaming towards us), editing (a wonderful 50,000 word project) and preparing for this talk on Friday... 

...not to mention more sock drawer tidying (although I have now progressed onto the vegetable-cum-non-wine-alcoholic-beverages cupboard, thanks to hubbie who has even crafted us a new shelf) my blog hasn't managed to clamber up my priority list this week. But that's OK, because I really want to shout out about this book. It's a life-affirming read, amusing in a dark humour kind of way and terribly sad in places. I read it last summer and still remember it clearly. Just wish I could have met the son and given him a hug. Although, he was 11, so he probably wouldn't have much wanted that... 

This is quite unlike any book I've read recently. It isn't so much that the story is unusual - it's been compared to The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry and I can see the similarities - but it's more the angle from which the story is told. The motivation for 104 year old Lithuanian born, Ona Vitkus, to pack up her bags in search of an entry from 'yours truly' to sit proudly in the Guinness Book of Records, is an 11 year old boy. A record promises a certificate, respect and immortality, after all, and who wouldn’t want that?

Alas, we never meet the boy during his lifetime because he has unexpectedly died whilst riding his bike.

His death is ever present, however, in the hearts and behaviours of the three particular characters he has left behind. The strain on his divorced parents: his mother, Belle, attempting to exist while mourning and father, Quinn, attempting to deal with his guilt, is palpable from the start and I was under no illusions that unconventional beginning aside, this was going to be an emotional ride.  

Before his death the boy, who isn't named (and my only gripe with the novel would be that I spent the first half thinking that I must have missed his name) had been visiting Ona on a Saturday morning to do odd jobs for her. Although dragged there initially by his scout leader, the boy carried out the tasks impeccably. Granted, we suspect that this level of perfection may have originally been more about his obsessive attention to detail, something which we glean has lost him a few friends over the years, than a love to help. As we progress through the chapters told from feisty Ona and droll, but guilt-stricken Quinn's perspective however, we learn that the boy was a very likeable soul and his affection for the slightly cantankerous old lady, was genuine. When not only Quinn but also the wife from whom he's been divorced (not once but twice) decide to accompany Ona on this quest for a World Record you know you're in for a bumpy ride.

Quinn is a fairly successful jobbing musician, never short of work, certainly. We learn through Ona's conversation with Quinn as he fulfils the odd-job slot left vacant by his deceased son, that his son felt him to be a very good musician. But Quinn's dedication to his trade is a thorn in his side after his son's death. As far as Quinn is concerned, he wasn't there for him. And of course, living with this once it cannot be rectified is heart-wrenching. Equally as difficult is realising that so distant were the pair, that Quinn doesn't always feel grief for his son. Finding himself learning about his own offspring through time spent with Ona is also difficult to palate. Quinn is confused and flawed and I warmed to him immediately. Just thinking about him and his journey of self-discovery brings a lump to my throat. But it's not all tugs and heart-strings, Quinn's resigned, off-the-wall mode of communication frequently made me laugh out loud.

Ex-wife, Belle is also hurting, prone to sharp retorts and cutting put-downs which upset Quinn more than she may realise, but she has her own issues. After all, she is in a position none of us could bear to be in. Although less likeable at the beginning, she is an equally well-drawn character.

And then there's the writing. This is a book where I was torn between reading on because it's one of those paradoxical stories which is slow moving in essence but also a page turner, and flitting back to re-read a passage of such skilful, evocative writing. It's a traditional style of narrative: pithy comment told through intricate observation of people and behaviours. But using Ona's amusing and often irritated recorded answers to the boy's questions - the easiest way, he'd decided, to chronicle Ona's life-story - not to mention the lists of Guinness Book of Records stats and facts speckling the plot as a constant reminder of the boy's presence, it's an original style of writing, too.

On the surface the story is Ona's. It's about her escape from the shackles of her age after the realisation has been thrust upon her that she has been waiting to die since she was ninety - and yet she's still here. But it's as much a story about the deceased boy and his troubled parents and what they can all learn from each other. And let's not forget the amusing spectacle of the motley crew as they engage in their quest to see Ona in the record books. It's a good romp and a very thoughtful one.

This story gave me goose bumps, brought sobs and smiles and was one of those reminders that whilst humans can be so complex, they are generally rather lovely underneath.

The One-in-a-Million Boy by Monica Wood, published by Headline Review. RRP £7.99 (paperback).

Chatting

I'm over at Chat About Books today, chatting with the lovely Kerry Parsons about books and stuff: character names, new endings and why I'll be inviting Kizzy from The Diddakoi for a coffee some time soon…Please pop over and say hello!

Meanwhile, a reminder of my two events over the next few days. You are, as always, so very welcome to join me - either on the airwaves this Sunday, 29th January, with Girls Around Town on Newark Radio...

...or for a Q&A and general chit chat at Harrogate Library on 10th February. 

Holey socks!

If I've been a little quiet of late, it's because I've been somewhat distracted by my sock drawer.

No, really.  

I read this book. I read it because I thought it was time I read some non-fiction again, of the self-help variety, as I hadn't reviewed anything like that for a while. I didn't know this little gem would take my chaotic life of good intentions and shake and twist and blast it into a more coherent form. It's not a perfect re-make but it's a feel-good, de-stressing step in the good intentioned right direction. 

Confused? Here's a review of the book which is setting me on the straight and orderly narrow. And I'm enjoying the ride. How about you? Have you had any similarly unexpected revelations?

Start With Your Sock Drawer by Vicky Silverthorn

Published by Sphere. Paperback and eBook

I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions. I like wholesale life changes as much as the next person, but September is my time for this. Mid-winter, I prefer to enjoy the hibernation.

That isn't to say that I don't like a good tidy up post January 6^th: throwing away the stress of a busy few months with the detritus of this well-wrapped Christmas. And with the New Year also comes the perennial inclination to conquer the to-do list. For this year (and every year) my work load will be better managed, my to-do list more realistic, my working day, my evenings, my weekend less manic.

I know that sorting through the evidence of years now past will also help clear some clutter from my mind, not to mention free up some time no longer spent rummaging for essential items but lacking the time to finish the job, makes me uninclined to start.

If this is a scenario you recognise, let me introduce, 'Start With Your Sock Drawer'. It's a guide to de-cluttering our homes and our minds, one sock at a time.

Author, Vicky Silverthorn, has had an interesting life. Starting out as a nanny, she quickly learnt the virtues of orderly systems. Next, she became PA to professional golfers and then to footballers, travelling with them to exotic places, to manage their array of effects and engagements with immaculate organisation. Latterly, she found herself PA to Lily Allen and toured the world with her, priding herself on knowing where to find items as small as a hair pin at a moment's notice. 

Now, in her capacity as 'professional organiser' she sees her job as helping ordinary people to take back control of their lives and headspace – and that is where this book comes in. Sprinkled with quotes such as, '…The clutter around my flat was stopping me from being able to wind down after a day at work…' Silverthorn explains first why a de-cluttered lifestyle is beneficial and then how everyone, even the most time-poor, even those living in the smallest space, can do it. 

Depositing the entire contents of your wardrobe into a Mount Vesuvius on the floor to be sorted tomorrow, however, is not what she advises. It may feel like a step in the right direction but as soon as you've allocated something 'more important' to the time-slot and thus pushed the clothes into the corner of the room, you've simply added further clutter to a cluttered life. It's another stress, even though we might not realise it at the time. I know, because before I read this book, I'd done it.

Silverthorn's mantra is not to take the clothes out of the wardrobe, (the toys out of the cupboard the books from the shelves…) until you have the time to sort through, keep only the items you are honestly ever going to wear again and replace the remainder in a much more ordered, appealing, accessible space.

I like order. I think it saves time and time-saving measures are next to godliness in my mind. So I appreciate the sentiment of arranging our socks, crockery and toys like a well-kept library. Jade jumper for work? In the non-black work section. Favourite pink socks for the gym? Right there at the front of the drawer (Silverthorn will tell you that most oft used goes at the front) in between the red and white. Before Start With Your Sock Drawer, however, achieving this Utopia of order was the stuff of dreams. How could I possibly prioritise my socks over my filing, my tax return, and the day job?

Start with your sock drawer, Silverthorn says. And once you've thrown away all the odd socks which will never be reunited with their partner, have holes which won't be darned or orange splashes which you really can't abide, move on to your handbag, your jewellery, your ornaments and so it goes on.

Because it does.

Once you start, even for this sentimental hoarder, it's infectious. Removing the mess in our environment, really does de-clutter our brains. When our house becomes less of a walking to-do list, when we can find what we need with minimal effort, we're less stressed. We have more time and we're nicer to be around.

I didn't agree with every suggestion. We should throw away all our unused chargers and pc connectors, for example, because the chances are, they won't ever be needed again. And that's true. They take up space and add clutter to our lives. Agreed. And if the worst case scenario happens and we need a lead, well we can always pop out and buy a new one for a few pounds, which is well worth it for a de-cluttered mind.

No!

If I'd thrown away something I later needed and not only that, had to spend the time I'd saved through living in a less cluttered world, trawling the internet or driving to a shop (I live in a little village, no shops selling chargers anywhere near me) to spend precious time and money on something I'd thrown away, it would take me days to get over the regret. But I did find the general ethos and many of the initiatives utterly inspiring.

The chapters on 'letting go' were particularly interesting. Why do we hold on to the bequeathed beige corduroy sofa with its threadbare cushions and sunken seats which has never fitted in size or period on that far wall in our mauve painted living room? Do we really need all those chipped mugs, just in case the entire street descends on the house, all demanding tea in the exact same moment? And then there's the pristine exercise bike which embodies all our good intentions, right there, guiltily occupying the corner of the kitchen - when really, the only function it's ever going to perform is to provide something else to wipe down and walk around. Better to give it away to someone who will use it and you feel the rush of endorphins that way, instead.

And if you're panicking that the pursuit of perfection will simply add stress rather than take it away, don't. The emphasis in this book is in removing clutter and mess to achieve a more useable and accessible life style. It's about achieving a beneficial order we can maintain, rather than show home status. Phew. As Silverthorn says, it isn't rocket science. But sometimes we all need somebody to tell us that something is a really good idea.

So, have I de-cluttered my to-do list, freed up some time with more orderly spaces? Do you know, after years of trying, I think I have. Would I recommend, Start With Your Sock Drawer? Absolutely. But once you've finished with the book, you have to give it away, that's the deal.

Meanwhile, I'm back on the Glass Houses trail and have a couple of events coming up. I'd love you to join me if you can.