O is for Orchid

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Dan stood admiring the roses, long stemmed and deep blood red. Too romantic he felt, and he didn't want to give her the wrong impression this early in the relationship. Lilies maybe; but some people are allergic and isn't the pollen really staining, not worth the risk. Chrysanthemums are what you buy your grannie when she's in hospital, and those coloured carnations are just so artificial. He contemplated the boxed orchids, delicate and exquisite. Expensive too, he thought, it could give just the right impression. He pulled out his wallet and the florist smiled expectantly.

"I'll have two bunches of daffodils thanks."

(Word for today's flash fiction A to Z supplied by my sister Claire when we were on the phone last night.)

(Linking back to the A to Z challenge)

N is for Nonchalant

Leaning awkwardly sideways he looked in the rear view mirror, fidgeted with his tie and ran his fingers over the already immaculate haircut. He walked across the car park gripping the newly purchased briefcase a touch too tight and trying very hard to breathe slowly and evenly. A curt woman at the reception desk greeted him and directed him to the lift.The journey to the sixth floor seemed interminable and the mirrored walls served only to make him feel observed and self conscious rather than alleviating the claustrophobia. On arrival a second, slightly older, but equally officious receptionist told him to take a seat. He perched on the edge of a pristine and very expensive leather armchair opposite the person who he assumed was his competition for the position. Surreptitiously he wiped the sweat from his palms and observed her. The woman was reading a magazine and smiling to herself, amused by the contents of the article. A cup of coffee was perched somewhat precariously on the arm of the chair and she paused in her reading to take a sip. The door opened behind him and they both looked up.

"Ms Ridley, won't you come in," said the man.

She folded the magazine and replaced it in her bag. She unfolded herself from the chair and glanced down at him as she walked past. There was pity in her eyes.

(Words for my flash fiction A to Z supplied spontaneously by Monkey.)

(Linking back to the A to Z challenge)

M is for Monopoly

"No," she said, grasping her staff more firmly and jutting out her chin, a fierce look in her eyes. 
He looked up at her, plaintive and contrite.
"But, your majesty, without it I will surely die."
His body slumped over and his head lolled almost comically to one side.
"But you are a mere peasant," she replied haughtily, "what does it matter to me?"
"I'm begging you, if not for me, at least spare the life of my baby," and he held out a tightly wrapped bundle. "Be merciful."
She stalked across and stood over him, seeming to consider his plight. The sound of music drifted across the grass and her head turned instinctively to it.
She smiled and crouched down to where he lay, planting a kiss delicately on his forehead.
"There, you are cured. Can we go for ice-cream now?"

(Words for my flash fiction A to Z supplied spontaneously by Monkey.)

(Linking back to the A to Z challenge)

The Luminaries (not an A to Z post)

'The Luminaries' by Eleanor Catton. Wow and more wow. And so not what I expected. I only just read 'The Rehearsal' about six months ago and it is a very avant garde novel. When I read that her second, 'The Luminaries', had first been shortlisted and then won the Booker I added myself to the queue of people waiting to borrow it from the library. I had not read anything about the story so I had no preconceptions about it. It has everything really; it has history, it has intrigue, it has murder and disappearances, it has stolen gold and it has young love. And what a wonderful cast of characters, and all of them important to the plot, not just there to fill the background. And moral ambiguity, not that you can't tell the goodies from the baddies, just that everyone is really human, with both strengths and weaknesses. The only thing I didn't really get were the lunar and astrological references, I was not sure quite what relevance they had, to the story or anything.

Hokitika 1870

Set in the (presumably) (but apparently not) fictional town of Hokitika in New Zealand during the latter half of the nineteenth century we are introduced to a group of twelve men who are meeting to discuss the death of one local man and the disappearance of another. A new arrival in the form of Walter Moody happens upon their gathering and by a circuitous route ends up being told the entire story. This takes up the first 300 pages or so. I confess I was a bit daunted by the size of the book and dawdled through this first part, then realising that it had to go back to the library I have read the last 500 pages in just a few days (and please excuse the rushed review as it is now overdue). I think this was a good thing because it is the kind of book that benefits from full immersion; it is full of atmosphere and historical detail. It wasn't until I wrote out this first quote that I realised how apposite it is, because it involves a simile that conjures up an image that we might not be familiar with, but which the characters in the book would know very well:

"The report from the small gun was hollow, even unremarkable - like the cracking of a topsail far above a deck. It seemed an echo of itself, as if the real shot had fired somewhere much further away." (p.160)

The second quote similarly creates an image (one that I very much sympathise with because I feel the same) but that is again something not familiar in everyday modern life:

" 'I've been busy,' said Balfour, eyeing the candle a second time - for ever since he was a boy he had not been able to sit before a candle without wanting to touch it, to sweep his index finger through the flame until it blackened, to mould the soft edges where the wax was warm, to dip his fingertip into the pool of molten he sat and then withdraw it, swiftly, so that the tallow formed a yellow cap over the pad of his finger which blanched and constricted as it cooled." (p.196)

What is really wonderful about the book though is the complexity of the plot. It is simply a darn good story, well written and well put together. It twists and turns and, like the men in the 'fellowship', we get dribs and drabs of information, some by deliberate and often furtive enquiries, but some come across by accident in the course of life in a small and intimate community. Everybody knows each other and each other's business. The social and political attitudes of the time are very vividly represented. The feeling of being far from home is a theme for many characters and much of the language refers to going back when a suitable fortune has been made. The influence of the gold is everywhere, in the forefront of everyone's interactions. In Anna, Lydia and Margaret we have three women who are victims of the harsh life that exists in this outpost of the empire, all of whom have reacted in different ways to the restrictions of their gender. I was concerned that the 'whore' thing might be a bit clichéd, but Anna is a very real character and all the men's opinions and reactions to her are cogent with their respective personalities. It just occurred to me that it was interesting to so enjoy a book that was much more focussed on male characters because so many books that I read are by and about women.

Final quote comes from Moody, and I kind of liked it because it sums up the process of reading the book. Having followed through several months the book then cycles around on itself to the backstory of the main players, though one vital event was left unexplained, but I don't begrudge it.

" 'All that is impertinent is not only immaterial; it is, in many cases, deliberately misleading. Gentlemen,' (though this collective address sat oddly, considering the mixed company in the room) 'I contend that there are no whole truths, there are only pertinent truths - and pertinence, you must agree, it always a matter of perspective. I do not believe that any one of you had perjured himself in any way tonight, but your perspectives are very many, and you will forgive me if I do not take your tale for something whole." (p.282)

L is for Luggage

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The Luggage had been waiting for quite some time. It felt like at least a year, but it might have been closer to a fortnight. It had been left behind quite by accident; the porter had been called away to an elderly lady having a funny turn and by the time he returned the train had already departed. Not wanting to give away its real purpose it had sat in a quiet corner of the lost property office biding its time. All that had changed yesterday however when a small ladies trunk with shiny brass fittings had arrived. Little by little the Luggage had moved surreptitiously closer, enchanted by the scent of cedar and beeswax polish. It opened its lid just a crack and let it snap closed, hoping to impress with the echo of its hidden depths and a hint of sapient pearwood. But she studiously ignored its advances, seemingly unaware of their close proximity. The following morning a woman in a fox fur and bright red boots had had her carried out to a Hansom. The Luggage stared disconsolately after the departing vehicle. A single drop of sap oozed slowly from its left hinge and trickled to the floor where it pooled and burned a small hole in the linoleum.

(Have never done Fan Fiction before, but when Monkey said Luggage the first thought was one of our favourite characters from Terry Pratchett's Discworld.)
(Words for my flash fiction A to Z supplied spontaneously by Monkey.)

(Linking back to the A to Z challenge)

K is for Kinetic

Elspeth replaced the last figurine in its spot and stood back satisfied. Everything was ready. The cushions were plumped, the table polished and the shortbread baked. She took off her overall, hung it on the back of the kitchen door and made her way carefully up the stairs. She put on her favourite mauve blouse and the brooch that Bill had given her for their silver wedding anniversary and checking her reflection in the mirror she tucked a stray curl back into place. She felt a flutter of anxiety; her son James was bringing his daughters over and the visit just had to go well, it had been such a long time. She had never quite understood what she might have done to offend his wife, but offence had surely been taken and that had been that. Back in the kitchen she realised she had left the milk jug out on the side since breakfast time. She sniffed the jug and it had a hint of sour about it. There was barely time but she had to buy fresh. She slipped on her shoes and hurried down to the corner shop. As she came back round the corner she could see them gathered on the pavement outside the house. She raised her hand and called out a greeting. The two children turned and waved at her and called out 'Nanna'. Clutching the bottle of milk she hurried across to them, arms open wide. She did not even hear the van that hit her.

(Words for my flash fiction A to Z supplied spontaneously by Monkey.)
(Late again, sorry, will try harder this week.)

(Linking back to the A to Z challenge)

J is for Jingle

The sound floated across the garden for just a few seconds, but enough to catch her attention. She turned her head in the vague direction and sniffed the air. Then it came again, clearer this time, so she got up and trotted across the grass, following the noise. The dappled sunlight under the willow tree set the perfect scene: a group of tiny figures were dancing in and out around a ring of tiny toadstools, dresses made from apple blossom and their bare feet encircled with tiny silver bells that jingled as they stepped. For a moment she sat, curious. Then one of the creatures became aware they were being watched and turned and stared at her.
"But I'm a cat," she meowed, "we don't believe in fairies."
As the meaning dawned on them it was too late, and they vanished in a burst of sparkling dust.

(Words for my flash fiction A to Z supplied spontaneously by Monkey.)

(Linking back to the A to Z challenge)