The Hermit

Number 2

Ahoy. This week my ‘short novel’ hit 100k words (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha), and I went out - a lot.

What I did.

I betrayed my inner hermit by heading up to London not once, but twice this week. Firstly, to Hatchard’s famous ‘Authors of the Year’ shindig, which I genuinely thought I’d been invited to by mistake, and which – after a terrifying beginning in which I felt almost unable to function beneath the crushing weight of imposter syndrome – ended up being a lovely evening. I met lots of writers I’d previously only spoken to on Instagram, and do you know what, it was great. Remember how I said one of my favourite things about being a writer was other writers? Alas, I did not pluck up the courage to approach a novelist whose books I have adored for decades. Maybe next time (if there is a next time).

This was followed the very next day by the launch of fellow Borough Press author Imani Thompson’s deliciously buzzy debut Honey, held appropriately at Honey & Co in Bloomsbury. So excited to see this novel fly!

What I saw

A fun day of talks and ambient music with Caught by the River in a nearby village hall. Music by local duo Field System with poetry by the writer Dolly Stephan. Four speakers arranged around a modern standing stone, each playing loops tuned to frequencies correlating to the coordinates of the stone. Mesmeric.

The Gurdy Stone is a two-ton slab of Welsh Slate, erected on an East Sussex hillside a few years ago. Which is how I found myself processing up a hill with The KLF (yes, them), waving yellow smoke flares to the pounding beat of a marching drum, as a well-known model lay on her back on the dewy grass, eyes closed, soaking in the vibes. It felt very Sussex.

The Mastermind, director Kelly Reichardt’s heist-gone-wrong movie, starring everyone’s favourite Young British Actor of The Moment Josh O’Connor. O’Connor plays down-on-his-luck James, who is trying to turn his fortunes around by plotting an inevitably shambolic art heist at his local museum. It is beautifully observed and somewhat charming, considering it’s central themes are failure and despair.

What I read

California Gold by Jodie Chapman. I adored this novel, and I can’t quite understand why Chapman doesn’t get more attention, when she is clearly one of the best British novelists around right now.

It is 1970, and British man Frank is hitchhiking on a California highway, when Chrissy pulls over to offer him a ride. Falling hopelessly in love, the pair move back to the UK and build a Palm Springs inspired ‘House of Tomorrow’ atop a Kentish hillside. California Gold is a beautifully wrought examination of family life, loss, and the rippling effect of trauma across decades, in which Mirage – Frank and Chrissy’s own House of Tomorrow - becomes as much a character in the story as it is a backdrop for the unfolding drama. A gorgeous, intelligent, and extremely emotional read.