Other Stories

I *heart* Kira Cochrane

I think I love Kira Cochrane. I don't even know what she looks like, but I have never read a word of hers with which I have disagreed.

Today she has a big article in The Guardian about late-term abortion, and why the limit MUST stay at 24 weeks:

Many of those who have late-term abortions are the most vulnerable: teenagers who didn't realise that they were pregnant until five months' gestation; women with learning disabilities; those using methadone in drug rehabilitation programmes, which puts a halt to your periods. Women like the one I read of recently, whose partner started beating her up when she became pregnant, and who feared she would never be able to escape him if she had his baby. (In more than 30% of domestic violence cases, the abuse started during pregnancy.) Women who have suffered a severely traumatic episode - the death of a partner, or a child, for instance - who fear that the stress might affect foetal development. The BPAS has just published a 28-day audit of late-term abortion requests, to be distributed to MPs. The stories include that of a woman with two small daughters from a previous marriage, who had an unplanned pregnancy with her current partner, which he urged her to continue. She then found out that he was abusing her daughters. As Ann Furedi of BPAS says, the stories "provide a really stark contrast to the abstract, philosophical and rather sterile discussion about viability and not viability. What this does is to take it woman by woman. The challenge that we're putting to MPs is to look at this and think about it - what makes you think that the lives of these women would have been better if they'd had to continue their pregnancy? We're talking about women who, by their own admission, are saying, 'I cannot cope with having this child'."

Strictly Come Booker

This morning I see that there is news of a "Best of The Booker" prize to be awarded this year. The prize has been going for 40 years now, and this prize is to be a celebration - much like they did when Midnight's Children won The Booker of Bookers 15 years ago.

It'll work like this: a panel of judges will draw up a shortlist of 6 previous Booker winners, then we the reading public will vote for the winner in some kind of Strictly Come Booker stylee (phone vote scandal purely optional, I hope). The shortlist is to be announced in May, and the winner announced in July.

So, what is likely to be on the list? God help us if it's any of the last few years' winners, I have had a decidedly dodgy relationship with them. The last one I actually really enjoyed was The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood (and that's not even one of her best, IMHO). If The Life of Pi is on the shortlist then I shall refuse to vote on principle. Can Midnight's Children be on the shortlist, or is it unfair for him to win The Big One twice? If it's not on the shortlist, then does that completely negate the prize he won before? Is the way out of that particular quandary to say that the shortlist is the considered opinion of whoever the panel are going to be? *shrugs* I dunno.

But let's not focus on the negatives. What gems might get a revitalised audience? I've been having a scan through the archives on the Booker website, and I personally would be a little bit chuffed if Kingsley Amis got a nod for The Old Devils (1986 winner), or Possession by AS Byatt (1990). If How Late It Was, How Late by James Kelman (1994) gets picked then it might give me the kick up the bum I need to actually pick it up off the shelf and read it.

I await with interest to see what titles are selected. But God help us all if it's Life of Pi.

Bloggers Versus The World

Well, not quite, but what with Ian McEwan outing himself as anti-blog recently ("...I don't have much time for the kind of site where readers do all the reviewing. Reviewing takes expertise, wisdom and judgment. I am not much fond of the notion that anyone's view is as good as anyone else's") it sometimes feels like we book bloggers have to make excuses for our very existence.

The blogs vs the critics debate has been raging around the interweb recently, starting with an excellent, balanced article over at Vulpes Libres and continued today by the always sensible Mark at The Book Depository.

There's not much I can really add to these two articles other than saying in the strongest possible terms that I completely agree with them. I have never set out to rival a broadsheet review section, but what I do think we bloggers can do is bring an air of trustworthiness to the world of book reviewing that is sometimes lacking from the professionals. Please note the emphasis on "sometimes". Occasionally you just can't help but wonder how cliquey The Establishment is.

I am "just" a common reader. I like to tell people about the books I enjoy reading, and I like to read the opinions of other "normal people" too. That's not to say that I don't read the review sections because I do, every weekend, it's just that I am possibly more likely to read a book on the recommendation of DGR, or Booklit, or John Self, or Elaine, than on the recommendation of a literary critic.

To steal a handful of Mark's words:

"The death of the Common Reader has been long announced, but no-one has yet seen a body."

Signpost...

Thought it would be overkill to stick another update at the end of my last post. So, here is a link to my latest post over at the OUP blog: Double Whammy for British Farmers.

Fame at last!

Huzzah! Tis a happy time for Other Stories.

This Saturday my humble-yet-strangley-beautiful blog was quoted in The Guardian's blog round-up. They picked up on this post and quoted my thoughts on male vs female writing.

See? I don't talk complete bollocks all the time.

Form an orderly queue for autographs now.

(And thanks to John Self for actually telling me about it, otherwise I never would have known).

Rape in Scotland

I know I said I wasn't going to post, but there was that lovely quote yesterday, and today I just had to write about this. And it's a far more unpleasant subject I'm afraid.

My native Scotland has one of the worst rape conviction rates in the Western world, with only 3.9% of cases ending in conviction in 2005.

Not only that, but despite a horrific case 5 years ago when a rape victim commited suicide after being forced to disply her underwear in court, three quarters of rape trials apply to have the person's sexual history (including drug use, sex aids, number of sexual partners) put before the court. This is despite legislation to try to make this practice more difficult in the aftermath of the girl's death.

The same legislation in 2002 also "ended the practice of allowing the accused to question their alleged victims". This practice was only ended in 2002.

Sandy Brindley, of Rape Crisis Scotland, said:

"It is little wonder that so many women do not report rape," she said. "Many women tell us that the reason for not reporting includes fear about what will happen in court: this research shows that this fear is entirely justified. Sexual history and character evidence is primarily based on the notion that certain 'types' of women are unlikely not to have consented to sex.

"In our view this type of evidence is prejudicial, humiliating and has no place in our courts."

Original article in the Scotsman can be read here.

Rape Crisis Scotland website over here.

Marcus Brigstocke's Religion Rant

I love the Now Show. I also have the most unfortunate crush on Marcus Brigstocke -- especially when he goes on frankly bloody marvellous rants such as this. I can only assume I'm not flagrantly ignoring copyright laws by posting this YouTube vid on my blog, but if I am I'm very sorry. I just love this. It has me shaking my fist in absolutely agreement every time I listen to it.

I agree utterly with all of this (although I do have a weakness for heat magazine).

Linkage

Just a short 'un today. Here are some of my links of choice from recent times:

• My weekly contribution to the OUPblog is over here.
• Interesting piece on literary prizes over on the Guardian Books Blog.
• One very rich dog (only in America).
• DollyMix has a nice little rant about the Emily Maitlis Leg Debacle.
• Women still aren't being paid equally to men (quelle surprise).
• Scottish Cardinal quits Amnesty over abortion stance. I think he's a knob. I could be more eloquent, but I don't want to be.
• Passiveagressivenotes.com. Never stops amusing me.
• Alistair Campbell's book is the one most often left in hotel rooms.

Enjoy! I shall be back tomorrow. I'm off to London now. Cheerio!

Local Papers

I was thrilled this morning to discover that my favourite local rag, the Barrhead News, has its own website.

It is the local paper from the town I had the misfortune to grow up in, and is full of lurid stories like "Town Link to Brutal Murder", "Granny Flees Sick Thug", and, er, "Dog Jibe Made Me Hit Woman In Face".

Unfortunately, it didn't have my favourite recent story online, which I discovered in the paper itself last weekend while up at home: "Rammy in Post Office". The standard of reporting is such that they use the word "rammy" in legitimate news stories, which makes me laugh more than is really decent. "A 23 year old man allegedly caused a rammy in the post office..." I had to cut the story out and bring it home, I loved it so much.

They also insist on referring to the police as "cops", which makes me wonder whether they are operating under the illusion that they are in New York, rather than a slightly scummy town stuck in between Glasgow and Paisley.

I myself have appeared in those hallowed pages a number of times, though thankfully never to do with anything violent. There was a rather nice arty shot, I seem to remember, of me aged 10 with my cello and Grade 1 certificate. (Apparently I was the youngest pupil my cello teacher had had that passed a grade exam, hence the photo.) Then there was the time that a school friend and I had a story printed in *gasp* the Mandy comic. About the same time as the cello thing, I think. Obviously 1992 was a busy year for me. Never out of the bloody paper.

Always the same photographer, I seem to remember. His name was Drew. Where are you now, Drew?

A couple of years ago they also had a couple of pages devoted to the smaller villages close-ish to Barrhead/Paisley (like Houston, Inchinnan, Erskine, Kilmacolm etc) that were written by a delegate from each village. There was one particular issue, sometime around 2003, that had the front page headline "SCALPED!", which told the fairly horrific story of some poor sod who had been set upon in a local Barrhead park with a large knife. When I flicked a few pages on, and got to the "Down Your Way" pages, the biggest stories were a dead swan found in Inchinnan, and an eldery lady having lost her door keys in Erskine. I think my parents moved to the wrong town.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go and do a count of how many of my old classmates have been in court this week...

**AN UPDATE**

Am thrilled to discover that "rammy" is in the OED.

Oh, and I also meant to say...

I have had *countless* emails, texts, Facebook messages and the like asking whether I've been affected by the floods and hoping that I'm ok.

Firstly, thank you for your concern, which I am actually very touched by - not least from those people who have got in touch through the blog, whom I don't know in real life.

And, more importantly, I have - thank god - not been affected at all. The flooding is about half a mile from me, so I've been very lucky. I know several people, though, who have been less lucky, and my heart absolutely goes out to them.

So. Thanks for checking, but all is well at Kirsty Towers.

My weakness disgusts me

Why can't I go into a bookshop and not buy books? Why do I have to succumb every time?

Last night I ventured into Oxford city centre to buy a book for my niece, who is 4, and obsessed with dinosaurs. Boyfriend and I are going to Liverpool at the weekend to see Mother, Brother, Sister-in-Law, and Nieces (two thereof). I wanted something to present to the tiny 'uns from their Cool Auntie Kirsty. When I arrived at my bookshop of choice, I was good, I headed straight for the kid's department with my blinkers to the shiny grown-up books firmly in place. I found a fantastic jigsaw book with all the names of different dinosaurs and where in the world they lived, felt smug at my choice, and went to the desk and paid.

I was ambling out of the shop, trying to keep my eyes down, but it was no use. From the corner of my eye I spotted the fantastically attractive cover of The End of Mr Y  by Scarlett Thomas. Not only is the cover wonderfully tactile, with the page edges coloured black, but I have been reading lots of reviews that have postively raved about it.  Throw in the plot line about some intriguing Victorian weirdness and a puff from Sir Philip of Pullman ("Ingenious and original . . . A cracking good yarn fizzing with intelligence"), and I'm afraid my heart started beating faster and my fingers itched. I paused, a battle of wills raging. But I am, ultimately, weak when it comes to all things bookish and I picked it up.

Half an hour later I left the shop, my switch card battered, and my bag bulging with five more books than I had intended purchasing. Alongside The End of Mr Y, I also couldn't resist another Victorian-themed novel by George Hagen, Tom Bedlam; a novel I had never heard of by the name of Clear Water, by an author I'd never heard of, Will Ashon; Rachel Cusk's Arlington Park, which I had been eyeing for a while; and a non-fiction, Attention All Shipping by Charlie Connolly. That one's been out for quite a while (I remember the hardback coming out while I still worked in bookshop-land) and I've fancied it ever since, but never quite got around to buying it.

I think of my book habit like binge eating. I cram myself full then feel a bit sick (the nausea usually peaks when I look at my bank statement). Ah well. As my father always puts it (wonderfully, I think): "at least you don't spend all your money on drugs". Every cloud, etc.

In other news, I've finished the obligatory Harry Potter. My opinion can be summed up by "it was pretty good". I'm happy to leave behind the Potter phenomenon now. I have no intention of re-reading any of them, and given the utter appallingness of the most recent film, I can't say that I'll be terribly keen on seeing anymore of the movies. It was all fun while it lasted, but it's over, and I'm fine with that.

In complete and utter contrast, I have just started Jonathan Franzen's book of essays, How to be Alone, which looks at how one can carve some kind of niche of individuality in the face of consumerism (er, yes, this is ironic given the main subject of the post) and mass culture (*kirsty looks away shiftily from the above Potter paragraph*).  But, eh, I'm enjoying it so far. The first essay, on his father's Alzheimer's Disease, is incredibly moving. More on it when I finish the book.

Books, Planes, and Water

I return after a week's bloglessness. The reason for my silence is that my mother, unfortunately, has been taken quite ill, and since none of us four kids live anywhere near her, there was all manner of remote coordination. But, she is now resting up at my brother's house in Liverpool, and is hopefully on the mend.

I have also been away - my brief weekend stint with my dad in Geneva. Travelling both ways was beyond hellish. I was departing from Gatwick on Friday night with a certain famous budget airline (when will I learn?) and my flight time was 8.15pm. I arrive dead on 6.15pm, just as my check-in desk opened. All well and good, until the entire bank of desks' conveyor belts broke down. Twice. Took me 45 minutes to check-in. So, off I trot to locate the end of the security queue... the queue was over an hour long. It meandered depressingly around the South Terminal and ended up right next to Arrivals. Urgh. But wait I did, and made it through the X-ray machines 20 mins before my flight was due to depart.

Of course, it ended up being delayed.  Of course it did. Eventually I arrived in Geneva, an hour and a half late, and extremely hungry (I had forgotten breakfast, had choir rehearsal through lunch, and didn't have time to get anything at the airport - and 'due to a technical problem' there was no food on the plane.) Thank God for dad thinking ahead, and we ended up having a very pleasant meal of smoked salmon and toast at 1am.

Coming back yesterday, though, was worse. On top of the vague panic I was feeling after getting several texts from friends telling me that Oxford looked to be at least partly under water (I live a street away from a canal, and not much further from the Thames/Isis), I then had the great displeasure of discovering my flight to Heathrow (flying back to a different airport than I left from always confuses me) was and hour and a half late. We eventually boarded, but missed our air traffic control slot so left two hours late. Landed at Heathrow to discover that 11 of the 37 aircraft stands were closed due to concrete problems. We had to sit on the sodding tarmac for nearly 45 minutes until we got a slot. Don't get me started on the scrum that was passport control.

I eventually stumbled back into my (thankfully above water) house rather later than I had intended. My mobile had run out of battery, so when I managed to get it plugged in I was deluged with texts from Boyfriend in increasing states of worry about my silence and lack of being at home. and from Dad, who hadn't heard from me to say that I'd landed safely. Ah, how the men in my life worry so. :)

Ultimately, I am mighty glad to be home. The flooding is worrying though, with 1,500 people in Oxford already being evacuated, and the Thames looking set to burst its banks. One of the main roads in and out of the city is already flooded - I am listening avidly to BBC Radio Oxford for updates. I can't imagine how awful it must be for the people in Gloucestershire and Worcestershire, who have been badly affected.

Managed to finish Charlotte Mendelson's When We Were Bad while in Geneva, and yes, I have bought the dreaded Potter. My thoughts on those to follow.

Police plea to stop female circumcision

Just wanted to draw everyone's attention to this story.

Not much more that I can add, other than go and read it.

The Sun - Stop Rape Now Campaign

I saw this over at the ever-excellent F-Word blog.

Now, The Sun isn't a paper I read out of choice, but even I have to take my metaphorical hat off to their latest campaign.

The 'Stop Rape Now' campaign is calling for better funded centres for rape victims, for 24-hour helplines, and better training for police officers and barristers dealing with rape cases. It flags up the recent cases where a judge gave a rapist a more lenient sentence because his TEN-year-old victim was dressed "provocatively", and a case where a barrister suggested that a teenage rape victim would have been "glad of the attention" because she was overweight at the time.

As The Sun itself says...

“There is no denying that a woman can ruin a man’s life by falsely crying rape, but the number of women who do that is tiny. False or malicious claims account for just three per cent of allegations […] if judges can’t set a good example, is it any wonder that rapists think they can get away with their crimes? […]NO ONE asks to be raped and it is 100 per cent the perpetrator’s fault"

You can sign their online petition here.

Everyone Loves a Cult Hero

I am particularly loving this story from The Guardian this morning. Anyone who watched any of the news footage on Saturday/Sunday about the burning car being driven into Glasgow Airport, will have seen this guy about twenty times. It seems he's been turned into quite the cult hero... fantastic.

"Rumours that the airport is to be renamed Smeaton International Airport appeared to be unfounded at the time of going to press."

Genius.

Alan Johnston

Well, I guess you've all seen the news by now, but in case you haven't: BBC Gaza correspondent Alan Johnston was released this morning after 114 days in captivity. Excellent news all round.

Hell's teeth...

First off, I saw this on Dolly Mix this morning:

http://www.dollymix.tv/2007/06/walmart_thinks_a_someday_a_wom.html

Grrrr... OFFENSIVE? Offensive how? These people sold (still sell? I don't know) ammunition for guns yet they won't sell a tshirt with a slogan about a female President... It fair got my dander up.

Also, I saw about 10 mins of the repeat of last night's Big Brother while eating breakfast this morning, and witnessed one housemate (the one whose ambition is to marry a footballer so she doesn't have to do anything with her life other than shop) declaring that she HAD to have some toast, because her period was going to start in two days. Err... what did I miss? Toast? Really? Why toast specifically two days beforehand? I was confused. If anyone can enlighten me then please do... I just thought it was a bit random.

I eat toast all the time. I love toast. It's one of my favourite things in the whole world.

Dishonourable Acts - from The Guardian

Emine Saner has written a great piece for The Guardian about 'honour' killings in the UK, in the light of the recent conviction of Banaz Mahmod's father and uncle for her murder.

Here's the link: http://www.guardian.co.uk/crime/article/0,,2101550,00.html

Now go and read it.

Random, Orange Prize, Random, Links

I am slightly on the frantic side today so forgive the scant posting.

First off, congratulations to Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, who won the Orange Prize (or Orange Broadband thing whatever it's called now) last night for her novel Half of a Yellow Sun. I haven't actually read the book, so I haven't really much to say on the subject, but I've read wonderful things about the novel. Hurrah for her.

In utter contrast to last year's shortlist, when I had read all but one of the novels, this year I haven't read a single one. I do own two of them, but only by accident (I'm a member of one of those mail order book clubs, except I keep forgetting that I am and don't send back the thing saying I don't want the editor's choice, and then they arrive, I have to pay for them, and I've ended up with some random books). They are: Booker Prize 2006 winner The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai, and A Concise Chinese-English Dictionary for Lovers by Xiaolu Guo. I have to admit I haven't really got much intention of reading either of them, so they are by default on their merry way to the charity shop box currently languishing in the spare room, waiting for me to remember to put it in the car next time I'm going out.

Anyway, I'm rambling, but if you want a more informed chat about this year's prize, I recommend you read the lovely Sarah Crown's post on it over at the Guardian Books Blog.

And while you're over there, have a peep at this week's live blog on The Apprentice. It's another of my TV weaknesses, and the Guardian blog is wonderful.

Gosh I'm in linking mood now. If you have an idle minute, please say hello to the following:

The BronteBlog (who linked to me recently, which was lovely of them)
Scott Pack (who also linked to me recently, and even said I was worth bookmarking, so he's lovely too)
little.red.boat (by the person who usually writes the Apprentice blog)
gettingitoffmychest (who I found through dovegrey reader's site; it's a very moving blog about one lady's fight with breast cancer)
Seen Reading (which I mentioned earlier)
Digested Reads (another Guardian thing - I promise I'm not on commission - puncturing the pride of authors everywhere)
The Times Big Brother Blog (their tag line about watching it so you don't have to is particularly handy, because I haven't been - blog's still worth reading though)

I think that'll do you for now. Enjoy!

Equality for Women in Iraq

... And while you're waiting for me to get my act together, please go and read this article from last week's Guardian, about how instead of things getting better for women in Iraq since the fall of Saddam, things are just as horrific, if not worse:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,2082537,00.html

I'm not just angry about this as a feminist, I'm angry about it just as a bloody human being.