‘May Day Murder’ Book Review

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I love a good crime novel. From the real gritty novels of Jo Nesbo to the more beachside read of Janet Evanovich, recently I cannot get enough of them. It’s an obsession. 

And there is one series I am LOVING at the moment- ‘The Whitstable Pearl Mysteries’ by Julie Wassmer, ‘May Day Murder’ being the third in the series. Living in Whitstable myself, there’s a certain home pride when it comes to reading these novels, set in the picturesque seaside town in the South East of England. It’s amazing to be able to read these novels and really know the places Wassmer writes about. Of course, not everyone is from Whitstable and cannot enjoy this luxury, but that is no reason not to read them. 

Following the life of Pearl Nolan, a single mother who owns a local restaurant and has recently started up her own detective agency, we follow this remarkably likeable and down to earth character as she solves murders in her home town of Whitstable. It’s a great light read (I finished it in a day!) that is warm hearted and almost an ode to the town and the people who live there. 

Wassmer creates characters you can relate to, as well as become suspicious of. As someone who loves mystery but wants answers more, I’m always desperate to find out who the murderer is- but in this novel I was kept guessing right to the end, and was not disappointed when the killer was finally revealed. But the murder of Faye Marlow, big Hollywood star coming back to her birth town for the May Day celebrations yet instead causes old memories and conflicts to arise, is not the only mystery that is revealed by Pearl and her detective love interest Mike McGuire throughout the story. It’s a real nail-biter, trust me.  

The story is a lovely mixture of mystery, crime, romance and family values that when combined creates a wonderful world to read about. It’s a picturesque novel that is thoroughly enjoyable and proves that these characters, and the world that Wassmer has created within Whitstable, has so much more to give. With 20 years of writing gritty scripts for Eastenders under her belt, Wassmer has chosen to write her prose with a lighter and warmer feel, and that even though the story is about murder, you still get the feeling that everything will work out in the end, that Pearl and her little comfortable life she’s living in Whitstable with her son and her mother Dolly (my personal favourite character) will spread out through the pages and bring some calm and tranquility into your own life.  

My only criticism of the piece was that there was so much focus on trying to keep the murderer a secret, from both the characters and the readers, that the various twists and reveals with regards to the other characters sometimes felt a little obvious. I’m not going to give anything away, heaven forbid I reveal any spoilers, but maybe I’ve just read too many crime novels all in one go that I could guess the secrets before the reveal. But what I figured out quite easily was made up for in the huge shocker of who the murderer was. Did not see that one coming! 

I would highly recommend reading this series, whether you’re from Whitstable or not, just for the light easy read it offers and the thrilling suspense of finding out ‘whodunnit’. I’ve already given at least four of my friends my copies and passed the name on to so many more. 

And now I’m recommending it to you, so get reading! 

7.5/10 

He Cries

*This is a work of fiction.*

After my mother died, I changed. I don’t remember doing so; I was barely two years old at the time. But my life was changed.

            I think about what my life could have been like, if she had lived. Would I have cut my hair in that particular style? Would I weigh as much as I currently do?

            Would I be happier?

            Would I even still be here?

             I go to a dark place with these thoughts. I fight a lot. I get in trouble, all the goddamn time. Mainly for my profanity. My dad would be called into the office, the head-teacher would lecture us both and then when we got into the car he would cry. He cries a lot, I don’t know why. Then I start to question what he used to be like, before Mum died. Did he smile more, and act more easy-going? Would he have a beard or be a chain smoker if she was still here? I’ll never know. But I see him, or at least see through his shell to the emptiness within. He’ll do anything for an easy life, and when it gets tough- he cries.

We rarely talk, not just about Mum but about anything anymore. Not that we ever did before, but now that I’ve hit teenage years he’s drawn back even further, almost as if he is afraid of me. Maybe I remind him of Mum, and that’s why he keeps his distance. The way I tilt my head when I’m confused or only eat apples at the weekend, all just painful reminders of a women he once loved and lost. Or the reasons why he cries.

He took me for coffee the first time I got called into the head masters lair. I had just said ‘fuck’ for the first time at Susie Dickens because she stole my thought about Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and acted like it had been her own. Not only did the teacher commend her, but he didn’t believe me. Hence ‘fuck’, followed by a ‘you’.

That time my father didn’t cry, he just seemed disappointed. That is worse, because then you feel like shit and there is nothing to do. When someone cries you can get a tissue, or make tea. Tea fixes everything.

            ‘What’s going on?’ that’s was his opening line.

            ‘What do you mean?’ I parry back.

            ‘This isn’t like you,’ he said. I swiped a lick of foam onto my finger and suck on it.

            ‘How do you know? It could be me, just not the ‘me’ right now.’

            ‘What?’

            ‘There could be a thousand ‘me’s’, all out there struggling to be dominant. You’re a mechanic, think of this as a test drive.’

            ‘Well, I think this model is faulty.’ We both get our sarcasm from the same place, his father. Unfortunately it never skips a generation. I would have laughed, but the mood seemed to suggest not to. 

            ‘I could just be getting on the road.’ That’s when the disappointment showed. I think he wanted me to be remorseful, sorry for what I had done. He wanted me to be the perfect new model. But when a tragedy strikes, it travels through time. Time can heal wounds but also makes new ones. I made decisions I wouldn’t have if Mum was here. If she had been, I may not have said ‘fuck’ at all. And if she had been here Dad and I would have a relationship opposite to what we do now. I’d be a whole different me.

After I explained Dad didn’t say anything, but that night was the first time I saw him cry.

‘Me Before You’ Book Review

The course of true love never did run smooth. And it’s an idea that writers have been running with for hundreds of years. From star crossed lovers to the friend-zoned comedy relief, it’s a tried and tested method to a great love story filled with enough twists and turns to keep us interested. 

And my new obsession is another of these stories- the wonderful novel ‘Me Before You’ by Jo Jo Moyes. Told from the perspective of a young woman recently out of a job desperately searching for another to keep her family afloat. 

Set in a picturesque English town, she stumbles across a job being a carer for a recently disabled man. Now, like most love stories, you know how the basics play out. A somewhat reclusive and bad tempered young man comes into contact with a bright, bubbly, colourful young girl and they inspire one another to become better, more well rounded versions of themselves. But this novel is so much more than simply that. It’s a tale thats been told before with a completely fresh and inspired twist. 

It’s hard not to fall in love with the young Louisa, who is so much more than the ditzy eccentric woman you believe her to be at the beginning of the novel. And as we see the world through her eyes, the people around her capture your heart as they do hers. Will Traynor, the man who two years prior to the novel finds himself trapped in a wheelchair unable to move from the neck down, is less than pleased when his mother hires Louisa to be his carer and companion, knowing full well of her true motives. 

The book hits you with heart felt revelations and surprises throughout the story, capturing you with well written and thoughtful prose as well as a beautiful character to experience the novel with. I was in a bit of a reading funk before I found this book, struggling to find something that really caught my attention and made me want to stop doing anything apart from just read one page after another…and then this gem came along. It really captures you from the first page, one of only about six to be told from Will’s perspective but riddled with foreshadowing and cliffhangers that get you hooked. The point of view then changes to Louisa’s for the rest of the novel, and we get to see the repercussions of the first few pages through her eyes. 

The novel is well paced and progresses nicely from Louisa’s comfort zone and into the unknown. Louisa is our guide, she experiences things as the readers do. This is a comfort to a novel that touches upon a lot of topics that can be hard to talk about, such as disablement or suicide. Moyes write about such matters in a way that enlightens and informs the reader yet still allows the magic of the love story to shine through. It’s a practical romantic novel, one of my favourite kinds. 

Overall it was a refreshing and fun novel full of heart and gloriously romantic. A must read for anyone who needs a little love in their life. 

And for those who aren’t big readers, have no fear! The wonderful people at Hollywood have made a movie version for us all to enjoy, coming this June! So we can all enjoy Will and Louisa’s story on the big screen as well. Just don’t forget your tissues, because you will get weepy. 

 8/10 

‘How To Be Single’ Movie Review

Chick Flicks have taught me a lot in life, often at different times. 

When I was fifteen, it was that I should always trust Colin Firth, in whatever movie he was in. (Actually, that one still rings true today.) 

When I turned eighteen, it was that you didn’t have to be the pretty girl to get the guy, he would love you no matter what you looked like. It would just take him about ninety minutes and perhaps a make over to realise it. 

But now that I’m approaching my mid twenties and learning not to rely so much on what I see on the big screen (it’s a long and slow realisation, unfortunately) I need to work out what my life should be like for me, not for anyone else. 

And apparently I’m not the only one. Cue ‘How To Be Single’, the latest ‘chick flick’ to be placed on the market. I use ‘chick flick’ reluctantly because it really is a mixture of both genders. We see the guys falling for the girls, sighing wistfully after them in a fashion that 1950’s heroines would be proud, and we watch as the women of the film learn independence and frivolity, and that being sexual is nothing to be ashamed about. 

Starring Dakota Johnson, Rebel Wilson, Alison Brie and Leslie Mann, this film shows four women with very different outlooks on what it means to be single and how to go about it. It ranges from the desperate single girl looking for the soulmate to the wild child waking up in a different apartment every day. And then you’ve got the ones in between, which are more relatable to the general female population. The girl ‘trying to find herself’ yet constantly losing who she is whenever a man is in the picture, and the more mature lady who worries her career took precedence over everything else and life may just pass her by. 

Whether we like it or not, we’ve been at least one of these people at one point or another in our lives. And what this film does best is embrace them, show their flaws as well as their perks. 

The film, like most, follows a girl’s journey during some romantic changes in her life. And, like most films, we have the comedy relief guide with one liners and hilarious antics that give the film its feel- good outlook. You come out of the theatre feeling happy and optimistic, which I believe is what those big Hollywood types were aiming for. 

‘If you’re not having fun being single, you’re not doing it right,’ one of the lines that burned into my mind near the beginning of the film. It’s a very good point. If you are unhappy with your current Facebook relationship status or whatever it is we use to define what we’re up to sexually, all you have to do is go out and change it. It’s easier said than done, and as a perpetual singleton, trust me, I know. 

Sure, there was an unrealistic element to the film, like a job on Wall Street right out of college or the amazing apartment Johnson’s character just stumbles upon in a matter of days (not that I’m bitter or anything) but that’s what chick flicks do- they make you want to improve your life to an unrealistic level. That’s what makes them so damn popular. And I’m willing to overlook that due to the message this film brings across. I’m not going to be a cliché and tell you what that awe inspiring message is, because I don’t know if it’s the same for you as it is for me. 

But it’s a feel good movie with relatable characters, a great back drop of New York City, funny one liners and a decent, if repetitive at some points, plot line. I saw it with my best friend and I’m glad I did. It’s a great movie to watch with your buddies or even your other half (as long as neither of you takes the title too seriously and believes you’re watching a documentary or DIY video) after a long week at work. A definite recommendation. 

7/10 

‘In Your Eyes’ Movie Review

A film that has been in the making for over two decades, written by the wonderful Joss Whedon who is really the gift that just keeps on giving in the realms of supernatural, paranormal and romance, this film was an unexpectedly glorious discovery made by myself a few nights ago. 
I recently made the decision/ social mistake of getting myself Netflix, and whilst trawling through the many films I either had already seen or had no interest in ever watching, this little beauty fell into my lap. 
First premiered at the Tribeca Film Festival last year, Whedon then made it available online rather than taking on theatrical distribution. The only explanation as to why I hadn’t heard of it until now. 
It’s a love story, plain and simple, only the twist is…the protagonists have never met. It is a story of two minds falling in love, not bodies. Dylan and Rebecca live on opposite sides of the country, and yet somehow, inexplicably, their minds are linked- they are able to see what each other can see, feel what each other can feel, and when they talk aloud, they can hear each other as well. 

I know, a little wacky- but considering the mind it came from, it’s a very sweet idea. The two could not be more different if they tried- she a upper class, unsatisfied housewife only married for the safety and comfort her wealthy doctor husband can provide, he a convict recently out of prison trying to turn his life around. It’s cliche and yet fresh. Whedon has done it again, the tragic love story you have to root for (Buffy and Angel anyone?) and want to be triumphant. 
Yes, the film lacks the superheroes, magical weapons and action sequences we are used to from Whedon’s work, but the themes are still there- we see a strong woman break from the safety of her life to pursue what will really make her happy, we have the misogynistic husband who controls his wife and talks down to her, more concerned with his career than her. Good triumphs over evil and the bad guy is vanquished. 
The score, composed by Tony Morales, left me with goosebumps throughout. It’s a soft, melodic sound that makes you fall in love, just like the characters and the storyline. It’s a perfect fit. 
The location is beautiful, a wonderful contrast between the cold New Hampshire and the mountain state of New Mexico. It represents the characters’ perfectly, their situation and their personalities alike. The theme runs right through to the end, when the characters both choose to leave their respected settings and travel to a new destination, showing their growth and change as people. 
The two leads, Zoe Kazan and Michael Stahl-David, really get to show off their ability in this film. It’s about falling in love all on your own. They had to dominate the screen visually whilst sharing it- a hard feat I can only imagine. Talking to themselves, whilst really having a conversation with each other occurs predominantly throughout the film, yet you really find yourself believing they are there, in each others heads. They are both a joy to watch and very believable together, both well rounded and damaged characters with flaws and virtues alike. They are well suited, both on and off screen. 
My only concern is one of minuscule size- they don’t address why they are psychically linked. We, as an audience, are expected to just accept it as fact and focus on the love story- which most of me is fine with. In other love films we aren’t expected to question why both leads are in the bar at the same time, or any other serendipitous meet cute that might be the reason the couple first meet- why should this one be any different? Perhaps its just me, always wanting to know more. 
But it’s sweet, plain and simple. Something you can curl up in front of the television on a cold night and watch, and restores just a little faith in the world. A definite recommendation to anyone who loves romance, Whedon and a little paranormal. 
8/10 

Skinny Love

*This is a work of fiction.*

  I was told it would burn. Looking at him would burn. That I would hear my favourite song play every time I saw him smile. I would fall in love and remember the moment.

            Sometimes I flick through the dictionary that belonged to my grandfather and stop on a random page, picking a word out. Other times I choose two and see if they have any meaning when placed together.

Skinny Love: two people who love each other but are too shy to admit it.

            I occasionally wonder if we have just one great love in our lives, and all the others are merely shadows. I think about all the times I stared at the random boy on the bus, waiting for him to make a move and watching as he pushed the button, got off at his stop, and didn’t look back.

            I thought I knew who my great love was; I’d hear John Waite playing in my head every time he collapsed into his chair during fourth period French class. ‘I ain’t missing you at all’, a personal joke how I could lie to myself but really I just wanted him to see me.

            He did once, at a party. Around us glow in the dark paint got stamped into carpets and saloon style doors were ripped off their hinges, but I didn’t notice. School was over; university loomed in the autumn. It was the summer I wanted to remember, but after I wanted to forget. Typical drinking games turned into a chaste kiss he regretted and I cherished, the line ‘stop this heartbreak overload’ screeching in my ears as he hightailed out the room, leaving me behind like a mistake.

            I aimlessly question to myself whether he ever heard a song when he looked at me. I used to think it would be Foreigner’s ’Waiting for a Girl like you,’ but after that night, I felt Sinatra’s ‘The Lady is a Tramp’ was more suitable. 

            My favourite place in the world was the beach. I would catch the bus over with my dictionary clutched between my hands, hair knotted away from my face so it didn’t tangle in the wind. I’d sit there for hours, curled up watching the tide wash in and out, picking words from my book and spelling them out in pebbles around me.

            He was there one day, like he knew. The opening drumbeat started playing, and for the first time I wanted it to go away. He only said sorry, but his eyes said more. ‘I spend my time thinking about you’ ran through my head. Then he was gone. I never found out what song played when he saw me, but I’m starting to wonder if he ever really heard anything at all.

I fell in love with him at Christmas. I remember sitting on Eddie’s couch in his conservatory. He had sat down beside me and his leg brushed mine. He had joined our school in September, and I had foolishly never given him much thought.

But now I noticed. How blue his eyes were; flecked with tiny shards of green and gold. Framed with the type of long curly lashes boys didn’t deserve. His dark hair, messy in the way that wasn’t stylishly unkempt, but just how it happen to fall. He didn’t have to try, and I guess that should have been a warning.

He didn’t have to try and get me to fall in love with him; I did that all on my own. I would drift towards him whenever we were together.

            Just like I did the night everything went wrong.

It was the last party. Everyone had gathered together, celebrating the end of our school career. I had been in love with Daniel for just over five months. Five months and a million chance encounters, a thousand romantic gestures, hundreds of stolen glances and even a few sweeping statements.

The problem was they were all in my head.

I was sitting on the front steps drinking a beer. I had never done it before, but I quite liked it. It felt frivolous and carefree. I could hear the music in the background, the sound of laughter and a few snippets of conversations.

I took another sip of beer. I wasn’t a fan of the taste, but I was courting my rebellious nature and underage drinking appeared to be ticking all the right boxes.

He wasn’t there.

He, who was never far from my mind. It wasn’t even a thought but a constant whisper I wasn’t aware of most of the time. With him I wasn’t even sure what was fictional and what belonged in reality anymore.

‘Hey.’

I glanced up. A face so familiar as my own peered back at me. Eddie, who had been my best friend for more years than I could remember, sat down beside me. He took the bottle from my hand and took a sip. He liked the taste more than me because he took another one straight after.

‘Hi.’

‘He’ll be here later,’ Eddie said, as though I had asked. That was the thing about Eddie; he always knew what to say. Why couldn’t I love him instead?

Because you don’t hear a song, the mean little voice in my head said.

‘He’s seeing Grace first.’

‘Right.’ Grace. Whilst Daniel had been the sun for five months, she was the cloud he hid behind.

‘Don’t do anything stupid, OK?’

I didn’t answer, stealing my beer back in response.

‘I want you to come to Australia with me.’

‘You’ve said that already.’

And he had. Since Christmas in fact. Eddie was leaving after summer to travel and he wanted me to come with him. He said I needed to clear my head, to take a deep breath and realize I couldn’t have what I wanted.

I turned to look at my best friend and suddenly…everything changed. I heard the song. It wasn’t as loud as John Waite, but a murmur threatening to get louder if I didn’t pay attention.

‘I’ve got to take a little time, a little time to think things over. I better read between the lines, in case I need it when I’m older.’

I hadn’t given Eddie’s idea any real thought before now. It seemed too fantastical, a possibility that was meant for someone else. And Daniel. I couldn’t leave him, not with the way I felt. Maybe one day he would feel it too, hear the song, and come find me.

But now Foreigner was playing, and my heart was hurting again.

He kissed me on the dance floor later that night. Daniel kissed me. We were five tequila shots in, but he kissed me nevertheless.

            Of course, when he pulled away with a horrified ‘no’ slipping out I was less than thrilled. I was left on the dance floor alone with just John Waite shouting so loud in my head I wanted to cover my ears, a few people on the edges of the room watching with whispers behind raised hands as though I couldn’t see them.

            I suddenly felt like that girl at the end of a movie, left behind when the male lead realised I was not the one he was supposed to be with. And whilst the audience watched the happily ever after unfold, I was left standing in the shadows.

            And so the summer began. Whispers spread about what had happened. It was my fault, they said, I had loved him and led him on. So I became alone, the movie moving further and further away from my life. Eddie stayed with me, but his days were numbered as well. I could almost hear the plane’s engines in my mind, speeding up and taking my best friend away from me.

            The holidays became a blur, each day the same as the next. All but one.

I sat alone, the last evening of August with the bitter wind coming in off the sea. I lit a cigarette and took a deep breath, feeling the toxins clogging my lungs.

Summer was nearly over.

The pebbles crunched underfoot as he walked towards me.   

I pulled my knees and wrapped my arms around them. The cigarette hung from my fingertips. The opening drumbeat started to play and I closed my eyes, suppressing a groan.

‘You’ve really screwed things up, haven’t you?’ he said as an opening.

I didn’t look at him.

He sat down, a wide berth between us.

The music played, but the illusion had long since shattered.

But he was still beautiful.

‘It takes one to know one,’ I responded bitterly. I took another drag on my cigarette, thankful to have something in my hands.

He didn’t say anything for a long time. I didn’t know why he was there, or how he knew where to come.

‘I guess. I think she knows,’ he said after a pause. I thought about her blonde hair and her brightly coloured clothes. They were always the first things that came to mind when I thought about her. Then I always felt bad. Grace was more than that and more importantly, he belonged to her. She had laid her claim and I had broken the rules.

‘She doesn’t. There’s nothing to know about,’ I answered. ‘If she knows anything, it’s only that I’m infatuated with you.’

He looked at me then, blue eyes questioning.

‘She knows what everyone else does,’ I shrugged. He didn’t look surprised, and suddenly my worst fears, fears I didn’t even know I had, were confirmed.

He had known all along how I felt, and had done nothing about it. We had no Skinny Love. We didn’t have any kind of love. He didn’t care. And suddenly, neither did I.

With nothing to lose, I leant across and pressed my lips to his. I wanted to feel it again, to hear the rising crescendo and John Waite’s crooning voice. Just one last time.

I pulled back and handed him the cigarette. He took a drag and held onto it, staring out at the ocean. I didn’t want him to say anything, to break the moment. The song hadn’t finished and I just wanted a little more time.

Daniel had sad eyes when he turned to me, flicking the cigarette stub away.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

‘I know. Me too.’

I didn’t watch as he stood up and left, planting a kiss on my forehead before he went.

It felt final. I didn’t want it to, but it couldn’t keep going like this. I couldn’t hope for something to happen for the rest of my life, that ‘what if’ hanging over my head.

If we weren’t done now, we never would be.

I spelt out the word ‘FINALLY’ in the pebbles, needing to see it before me for it to be real.

It didn’t work and I pushed them around, frustrated. I knew I wouldn’t let it go. I had loved him too long.

I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialled.

He picked up on the second ring, just the voice I wanted to hear.

I want to know what love is; I know you can show me.

‘I’m in,’ I said. Eddie whooped in response. Maybe going halfway around the world would help cure my heart. And even as I thought it, John Waite snuck into my mind and I turned to watch his retreating figure.

‘It’s my heart that’s breaking, down this long distance line tonight.’

Or maybe not. And even though the wind whipping around me was ice cold, all I could do was burn.