Reviewing ‘Not Thomas’ By Sara Gethin.

I purchased this book and had been looking forward to reading it, after twenty or so e-books that I had promised I’d read were finally finished. The books had been clogging my tablet and sitting heavily; as guilt does on my mind. Life gets in the way of promises and dreams and is oblivious to anything interrupting it. So we sold up in Somerset and relocated back once more to Suffolk, the doing of that move left things undone, books unread, friends uncalled, my blog bereft of fresh stories and my manuscript on hold.

So I purchased Not Thomas and was excited to read something fresh by a name I didn’t know. I was drawn to the cover, the boy at the window looked thoughtful the colours inviting. I had spotted the promotion popping up on Facebook and Twitter, I followed her name to see who she was on WordPress. I read it, the cover, ‘Imagine You’re Five, Alone In The House, And Someone Gets In’.

I purchased and waited for it to arrive. We are refurbishing and I may have waited, but in my head, as I say life cracks on. People are not always honest about their rituals on receiving a parcel of a book, but I read the outside of my package, stroked it a little *sigh* and removed the cardboard. Number one, I am not odd, or certifiable but I do love a book. Two, trusting my rituals to followers may make them ‘come out’, admit they have some as … diverse as mine, but hopefully won’t make them scarper. So, I now have my very own copy in my hands, I caress it with my eyes , sniff its perfume, ooh i love to smell books.

Well then things went a bit skewed the surveyor turned up and round two began, my reading time vanished with talk of bi-fold doors, dry-rot and bathrooms. To cut a story short; which really isn’t the way Ellen rocks, Thomas was put on hold. A bout of illness slowed my progress on the house as the husband put down his size nines and firmly but kindly made me stop. So amidst the dust and noise, I picked up Thomas and recovered by reading.

Firstly no spoilers! Just my thoughts and opinions.

The scariest thing is the way this five-year-old boy tells his story/nightmare as if it is normal. Although the fear is palpable there are moments of pure gold like his letters and post scripts. While you read, if you’re not careful you will need tissues both ends, because you can’t put it down even to pee.

Sara manages the language perfectly, it is simple and pure, as a child’s voice is. Most of the book is told by Tomos clearly, concisely and in an earth shattering simplistic way. The absolute horror going on around him, the neglect so casually passed over by his Mum. The attitude ofturn the other cheek the neighbour had across the street, she who looks back at him from her window. It is as if they have not a clue that it’s wrong. Mum, loves him in her way, she doesn’t allow him to reach her paraphernalia hidden in full view in the bathroom, she takes away his ladder so he doesn’t come from his high bed and see stuff or get hurt. You can feel Thomos’s love as he cwutches up with her on the sofa.

This book is by far one of the best reads I have had in five years, the writer is the most exciting new thing to come out of Wales since the Severn Bridge. If you read nothing else this year you simply have to read ‘Not Thomas’.

P.S. I see another book ready to spring from the ending.

It is the day after I finished reading the book but I am not ready to let him go just yet. So Not Thomas joins me for breakfast, a feast I would have fed Tomos if I could.

My review I know is a little different from the norm but I hope you enjoyed it, I am not known for writing book reviews on my blog which must tell you how passionate I am about this one, and hope you will be too. #LoveTomos

Please leave me a comment below.

A Ballet of Books.

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Words I read dance on my tongue
Library books join in the fun.
A myriad of majestic lust
Move in a flurry of mite dust.

Turning pages straightening spines,
Composure coreographed in lines.
Come watch the Pas de deux
Girls Pirruette in clasic tutu.

A library putting on a ballet
Watched by books in the alley.
It began with the arabesque
Pointe at librarians desk.

They Gathered all in croisè
Danseur with a grande jetè
Prima ballerina took a bow
Books that dance holy cow.

I Can’t Begin To Tell You.

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I Can’t Begin To Tell You,
I can’t begin to know.
What lay betwixt the pages
Of every book on show.

We have to read the story,
Let it seep beneath the skin
Of each person looking
And make them delve within.

I became a booknight giver
A sharer of the written word
A gifter of the present
And a stranger, how absurd.

I gave away on street corners,
In shelters and in shops
I took one in the station
Left  one for the Cop’s.

I acossted in the doctors
I took one to the school.
I was chased from a book shop
Looking like a fool.

Diligently I gave them
They promised to all read.
One wanted three
I think to buy some weed.

I am feeling quite exhausted
But virtuous and bright.
One day it will be my book
Someone gives out on book night.

Please follow @worldbooknight on twitter.

I will review the book on my blog when I return from a short holiday in a couple of weeks.
Please let me know if you joined in were a giver a receiver or just liked my ditty.

I am linking this to Haddons musings the senior salon

You can share your post in return for making new connections and following lots of wonderful new blogs. Press here to join or comment. Thank you Bernadette.

A Pleasurable Book Review

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The lovely Kim Gosselin award winning author and member of the society of children’s book writers and illustrators,  sent across the great sea her newest book  ” Babies Of Two”. I was thrilled to be sent the book the signed first edition will have pride of place in my forever bookcase.
The art work is superb the illustrations  fit each page perfectly thanks to Alisa Belzil.
The story flows with wonderful fluidity in a poetic form that is clear and holds a childs attention beautifully. The book speaks with the voices of the unborn twins, a unique depiction of childbirth tastefully portrayed.
I gave the book to my daughter in law to test out on my granddaughter Ivy, it is with Ivy’s seal of approval that I say… A fab book that would be enjoyed by all who read it including potential sibling of twins and any other child who loves reading and or looking at beautiful pictures, it covers both the entertainment value and the educational.

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Words from a woman who writes

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I am she the woman who writes.

I begin about six and end around ten thirty. Sorry that was a lie, it isn’t about it is at.

Unless of course we are away and other things get a look in. Things like babies to hold, people asleep, conversations to make or reminiscing to take part in.

Even then I am watching, trying to change it around. I am not writing at these times but researching. I am collecting mannerisms, tones of voice, dialect, a laugh or the tilt of a head, maybe a funny walk.

Recently we had a weekend away and my husband was asked if I was unwell. I had been nipping in and out of the bathroom to scribble. Having a pen or pencil concealed about my person for use at all times is  law.

I often have a character or two with my mother’s words, my father’s hat and yesterday my character had my doctor’s gait. I write storylines with my neighbour’s hen house. I will also include her cackling laugh so what I am saying is,I am writing.

To relax I read, but do I? Reading is for me how other people eat, reading is sustenance, fuel or a thing that I do; so I can write. There you go! I am writing again. I read everything, I read novels, science fiction, comedy, horror and dystopian thrillers. I devour books of all kinds, romantic comedy, chic lit, true life, biographies and fantasy, ancient books, historical drama, I even read birthday greetings and cereal packs. I think I don’t read Genre`s, I read words, stories, adventures but mostly I read because I can.

Now, when I read I am seeing how the author altered the flow, how did he make me know she was scared, loved or sick? With a slight change I was led to feel the way that character felt. “You know what?” I am still writing.

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(Picture belongs to My Elephant – http://wp.me/p4NJtM-iY and I thank themomfred for the loan.)

When all at once, someone, somewhere asks, “The” question, yes that old chestnut, the elephant that enters the room. The question that once answered makes the poser of such a question, leave the room. The answer makes seemingly interested parties friends and family, oh yes even family, skedaddle, Vamoose or Huff and grunt.
Seemingly polite individuals suddenly lose their manners. Question “Are you published?” Answer I’ve had a short story a piece of flash fiction published but not a book no “Not yet”. Now I am no more than a mad deranged woman who lives in cloud cuckoo land, I am now someone not worth listening to.
But I do, I write, I was told it wasn’t enough, I needed twitter and a blog, a platform to promote my book, the one that isn’t yet finished.  I then began learning, posting, and making connections. I have asked myself “isn’t writing hard enough?” Now over the last few months I have created this Blog, of course if you are reading this you already know. For me this meant wrestling daily with an alien species. You may realise I am not so… technical or computer skilled as many are. Did I struggle? I didn’t have a clue. There are urls, dms, tweets and re tweets, pingbacks, re-blogs and what the… now I have to learn a new language. It has stretched me this blog, taken up precious time and challenged my [very flimsy] sanity. I have struggled and fought and  Percy weered, as my dear departed mother in law once said.

Even the day I finished this piece, in a technical fart! It was gone, I lost it, vamoose! I do not have a clue, the lot gone before my very eyes and never to be seen again. But I plod on, learn from mistakes, I ask others for advice and in this blogging place there are experts, friendly helpful ones.

Today I continue to post, while holding my one day book close like a suckling child, trying not to use the blog and twitter as my procrastinators.

Ellen is now Blogging snippets of stuff, as often as she can.
Not knowing if I am doing the right thing or not. I wait and watch send and lose, yes I still lose about forty percent of all my posts. Who knows it maybe a divine intervention, making me do it over once more, to make it worthy.

A naysayer I am not but neither am I a technophobe. I haven’t yet found the word for tablets and computers hate me, when I do I will let you know. I have it on hopefully good authority that a blog I must have.

But according to most, I am just a loon, an unpublished loon with desires of grandeur. Six hundred words down yesterday, my re read today demolished most of it. I use this as another positive lesson a learning tool.

Crap happens and if I can save one paragraph, one piece to plop expectantly in to my book then it is ok by me.

My Dad said “you need the crap, so you can recognise the good stuff.”
Sometimes I feel I am helping my characters come alive, and other times they dictate what is written. I have disobedient characters that wander far from my now defunct storyline, with minds of their own.
Other times the words just flow and work, they fall from my head like hair from a dog with alopecia. This twitter and blog a ma gig, has made me richer rounder and confident enough to try.
And yes! I am writing, because I am a woman who writes.


This has been re-posted because as a new blogger I knew nothing of tags or categories and had four followers, so today I hope it has a place and is relevant enough to warrant being reblogged. “How do you feel about the elephant in the room? ” Do you as I do still dread the question? I would love to hear your view.