May was something of a crazy month for me. I went on holiday to Venice for week, and then yesterday I moved to a new city to start a new job – after a manic few weeks finishing up any outstanding freelance projects before that phase of my life (thankfully) reached a close. For now.
I am a totally shy introvert, so moving to a new city full
of strangers into a house full of strangers (I am living in a slightly weird
place that used to be a B&B, with six other people) feels like a Big Deal.
I’ve moved here for a temporary, but very exciting job, so I’m doing my best to
put my anxieties aside (by which I obviously mean read lots of books and watch
lots of TV and try not to think about them) and enjoy myself.
So far I’m not doing too badly. I took myself out for a coffee
date this morning. Yesterday I made my room pretty.
It’s in progress.
Anyway, onto my favourites from May!
Travelling by myself
In the weeks leading up to Venice, whenever I mentioned I was going away, and then, when asked, revealed that it was by myself, I got some funny looks. I felt like I had to make excuses for myself. Reassure people that I did have friends. Mention that you have to do some things by yourself when you’re single as if that was something I felt regretful about.
I fucking love going on holiday by myself.
Wandering aimlessly for hours, not worrying that I’m boring
someone else, whether their needs are being met… it’s the best. I’ve been away
alone three times now and every time I wait for myself to get lonely and I just…
There might be something wrong with me.
All I can say is it felt like freedom.
This is a series on the Soul Pancake YouTube channel about a queer couple looking to foster and perhaps adopt a child. It offers a fascinating insight into the foster and adopt process in the US, casting an analytical eye over systemic racism in the system – people of colour are much more likely to have their children removed in situations where white parents are allowed to keep theirs – the limbo potential foster and adoptive parents experience as they negotiate the system and the tensions between biological parents and foster parents. It is emotional AF (I cried. A lot.) and painful and hopeful and heart-breaking – and an invaluable look at a much under-represented experience. The episode where they interview bio parents fighting to get their rights to their children reinstated is particularly devastating and necessary.
See Something Say
The See Something Say Something podcast is back! One of the most tragic losses of the great Buzzfeed podcast cull of 2018, I was thrilled to see Ahmed Ali Akbar and guests back on the air as an independent outfit. See Something Say Something is a podcast about being a Muslim in the US right now. From their award-winning Ramadan series to interviews with some amazing guests like everybody’s fave chef, Samin Nosrat and author Hanif Willis-Abdurraqib AKA Carly Rae Jepsen’s no. 1 fan among many other great people, every episode is a blend of political commentary, pop culture (RIP Zayn and Gigi) and just a chance to spend time with some awesome people.
Aja Barber is an activist-writer-stylist talking about systematic racism, sustainable fashion and saving the planet. Through her Instagram and Patreon accounts she dissects the role of white supremacy in the climate emergency, and how we can all hold each other accountable – most especially white people – for the role we are playing in the destruction of the planet. I feel really strongly about the destructive power of fast fashion, but for a long time I couldn’t find many voices within the sustainable fashion movement that really resonated with me. It’s a lot of very rich, mostly white women dancing in fields wearing flowing dresses and talking about veganism. And while that’s fine for them, the story a lot of those accounts tell lacked the urgency and complexity with which I wanted to see the conversation take place – also, to be frank, they showed a lifestyle totally financially unattainable to me. Then I found Barber’s work. She discusses the problem of fast fashion with the intelligence, nuance and analytical complexity I’d been looking for. She constantly challenges the white woman in her audience to be better, more accountable, more intersectional in their perspective and has pushed me to consider what doing my best really looks like. And, with her particular interest in second hand shopping, she shows that living sustainably is more accessible than we might think.
If we want a world
that is beautiful, kind and fair, shouldn’t our activism be beautiful, kind and
campaigner and founder of the Craftivist Collective Sarah Corbett shows how to
respond to injustice not with apathy or aggression, but with gentle, effective
This is a manifesto –
for a more respectful and contemplative activism; for conversation and
collaboration where too often there is division and conflict; for using craft
to engage, empower and encourage us all to be the change we wish to see in the
Quiet action can
sometimes speak as powerfully as the loudest voice. With thoughtful principles,
practical examples and honest stories from her own experience as a once
burnt-out activist, Corbett shows how activism through craft can produce
long-lasting positive change.
I read How to be a
Craftivist by Sarah Corbett for a book club I’m part of, and I have to say
my feelings were mixed. Part call to
action, part campaign strategy and part activism memoir, the book details how Corbett
launched her craftivist movement and the hard won successes of her creative
There was a lot about her movement that I liked. For a lot
of people, joining a march or – god forbid – canvassing feels difficult if not impossible (I know there can be
some privilege wrapped up in this. I’m getting to it). As such, Corbett coming
forward with a version of activism that holds out a hand to shy types to whom
walking up to a stranger with a petition would feel like actual death felt inviting without being accusatory.
Her campaigns are so creative – with emphasis on using sustainable
and ethically sourced materials (rather than, say, feminist slogan tees made by
women making less than minimum wage in unsafe factories…). From creating small
scrolls to slip in the pockets of garments at fast fashion stores asking #whomademyclothes
to messages carefully stitched onto handkerchiefs and sent to local politicians,
Corbett breaks down her campaigns stage by stage, inviting the reader to get
involved at every turn. She describes how she goes about building relationships
with those on the opposing side of the argument, and it is certainly
interesting to see how she manages to engage with some powerful people using
craftivism, getting them to interact with her work in a way they haven’t with
activism before. Through her work she inspires people to communicate with her
on an issue rather than go on the defence – something that often feels
impossible to achieve.
She also makes a huge point of solidarity over sympathy; so,
creating campaigns that centre the people affected by the issue with
understanding that they know what the
solutions to their problems are. People aren’t waiting for you to walk in and
save them, they’re looking for support.
All that said, I have to admit I had a really hard time with
her consistent use of the term ‘gentle’ to describe her method of protest.
While I know I am coming at this with a certain amount of internalised
gender-related garbage, the way her work emphasised being agreeable and non-threatening
jarred with me. I wish that Corbett had addressed this, or at least taken an analytical
stance on the way that agreeableness has been demanded of women to their
massive detriment over time, but she never did.
And then there’s the issue of privilege. Sarah Corbett is a
white woman (as am I) so carrying a lot of privilege that I don’t necessarily
feel that she addresses particularly well during the book. As it goes on, it
starts to feel like she is placing gentle protest in opposition to what she
considers aggressive protest, and it was this slowly encroaching binary that I
found myself taking issue with more and more. While I think her methods
absolutely have value (she has achieved a hell of a lot more than I ever
have!), I think that it’s much easier to make a gift for your local politician
attached to a very friendly letter, as she recommends, when you’re dealing with
a situation you’re not currently affected by. Right? If you’re personally
impacted by the ‘hostile environment’ immigration practices or benefits cuts
currently screwing over hundreds of thousands of people you’re probably going
to feel a lot more like yelling in someone’s face – and I don’t think you would
be wrong to do that.
Like I said earlier, craftivism, according to Corbett’s
ideals is at least partly about welcoming in people uncomfortable with other
forms of activism – I actually fall into this group. I deal with pretty bad
social anxiety so the intensity of activism fills me with FEAR. But I also wonder whether we should
expect – or even aspire, in this situation – to feel comfortable? Especially if you’re a white woman. I’ve
been thinking a lot lately about my own accountability, and in particular all
of the various (many) ways in which I don’t live up to my own ideals, and while
a lot of actions Corbett presents in the book are great, there was a degree to
which I felt she was offering people a way out of getting their hands dirty.
I guess I’m on the fence. There were times while reading
that Corbett totally lost me – she tells this weird story about getting dumped by
a Tinder date because he ‘didn’t want to date an activist’ until she told him
that she was actually an agreeable nice activist, not an ‘angry’ one. I was
waiting for her to be like and the moral
of the story is fuck that guy,
but instead she ended up dating him after she convinced him of her ‘gentle
nature’. But at other times her methods really appealed to me, particularly in
terms of her tenacity and her approach to a campaign as a long-term commitment.
Have you read How to
be a Craftivist? What do you think?
Today we’re going to try a different style of blog post. Exciting, I know. This week I’ve been on holiday in Venice (as you likely already know if you follow me on Instagram), so I figured I’d share a few tips for getting the most out of the beautiful floating city.
I actually didn’t have many expectations as I arrived in Venice on Monday evening. While I had scrolled through some pictures of the place on Instagram, I didn’t have many ‘must visit’ locations on my list – other than the city’s notoriously Instagrammable canal-side bookshop, obviously (more on that later). I should have known I would fall head over heels in love with the place.
The one thing I did book before I left was a couple tours with Venice Free Walking Tours. I am a massive fan of a free walking tour. They operate on a tips-only basis whereby walkers pay what they feel the walk was worth according to what they are able to give, with the idea being that wealthier participants will pay more to allow those with less money to come along too. They are also very ‘off the beaten path’, which works for me. You don’t need a walking tour to lead you to a city’s famous landmarks. Those, you can find yourself. What the Venice Free Walking tours do instead of showing you the landmarks everyone else is already visiting is give you the confidence to get lost – really the only way to explore Venice.
I did two tours – those exploring the Southern and Northern
corners of the city. Both of the guides were wonderful, telling fascinating
stories about the history of notable people and places in Venice. Maybe my
favourite story was that of Ca’Dario, the house that kills. The house is
cursed, with all its owners doomed to lose everything and die a violent death.
Okay so, the house was built by Giovanni Dario, secretary of the Venetian Republic Senate. The Gothic mansion was supposedly built on a burial ground, and as each of its residents met their mysterious and tragic demises, locals began to speculate that the house was cursed.
[insert evil laughter here]
After Dario’s death, the house then passed to his daughter,
Marietta and her husband Vincenzo.
But not for long.
Vincenzo drove the family into financial ruin before being
brutally stabbed to death in an alley. Shortly after that, Marietta hurled
herself into the canal, drowning herself, and then their son Vincenzo Junior
was murdered by assassins on the island of Creta.
In an attempt to lift the curse, the house was completely
redesigned and then sold AGAIN to another wealthy merchant… who promptly lost
all his wealth and then died. The next owner, Radon Brown was found dead inside
the house shortly after he purchased it, his lover also dead beside him in an
Fast forward a few years (and a few deaths) later into the
1960s, and famous singer Mario Del Monaco decided to purchase the house. He
died in a car accident on the way to make the sale.
A decade later, Cristopher ‘Kit’ Lambert, manager of The Who,
took his own life a few years after taking ownership of Ca’Dario.
In the 1990s an incredibly wealthy and well respected businessman, Raul Gardini bought Ca ’Dario. A few short years afterward he found his reputation in tatters and his money gone after getting caught up in a political corruption scandal. Gardini also took his own life.
These days, it’s owned
by an American company who vowed to renovate the house, which having been
abandoned for many years has fallen into a state of disrepair. But, for some
reason, years later, renovations are yet to begin…
Another reason I absolutely loved the Venice Free Walking tours was their emphasis on sustainable tourism. While in Venice I learned that tourism has actually had an intensely negative impact on the city. On any given day there are disproportionately more tourists than residents staying in Venice, and as this change has occurred, trade native to the city has been pushed out by shops filled with products designed for tourists – you know what I mean, those shops full of city-themed tat ubiquitous to all European cities where tourists gather. Because of this, Venice has lost 70% of its traditional trade, and with it, a huge slice of its identity. Similarly, the city has been completely overrun by Air B&Bs. Unlike other cities like Amsterdam and Rome where government restrictions are in place, there is no limit on the number of Air B&Bs in Venice, meaning it is all but impossible for locals and students of the city’s four universities to find accommodation within Venice itself. Not only that, but many Air B&B hosts operate illegally, not collecting the city tax owed by tourists and taking further from the resources of the city without giving anything back.
Yes, this is really depressing news, but it’s not all doom and gloom. What both my walking guides instilled in all of us was a sense of empowerment to explore the city conscious of the ways we were helping and hurting in how we decide where to spend our money. They recommended businesses to visit and educated us about supporting real Venetian trade rather than knock offs – a genuine Venetian mask, for example, will cost you upwards of 40 euro. Buying one for less will likely mean buying a fake, and with that participating in the destruction of a craft native to Venice for hundreds of years. Choosing how to spend our money is one of the greatest powers we have. Choose well, and consciously!
Liberia Acqua Alta
Calling itself the most beautiful bookshop in the world,
Liberia Acqua Alta is a necessary trip for book lovers. Packed floor to ceiling
with books – as well as the book shop’s five resident felines – look out for
your favourites in various different language editions. Out back of the shop,
climb up its towering staircase of books for a peek at one of the most
beautiful canal views in the Castello district.
St Mark’s Bell Tower
After you’ve checked out the Basilica, don’t miss the opportunity to visit St Mark’s Bell Tower, which offers one of the most extraordinary views of the city.
The artsy district of Venice, in Dorsoduro you’ll find
amazing museums Gallerie dell’Accademia and the Peggy Guggenheim Collection,
both of which I really recommend visiting. Filled with great cafes and
restaurants, art galleries and the occasional vintage boutique, you can spend
hours wandering the streets here.
The islands of Murano, Burano and Mazzarbo are about an hour away by very busy boat, but absolutely worth the trip. I spent hours wandering these characterful and fascinating islands. Enjoy the brightly coloured fishermen’s houses of Burano, cross the bridge into the quiet tranquillity of Mazzarbo (for some reason the Instagrammers in Burano don’t seem to have found this place yet, so it’s a lovely retreat from the crowds. The day I went it felt as though I had the entire island to myself) and enjoy the traditionally made glass in Murano (not to go on another rant about sustainable tourism, but ask one of the glassmakers in Murano how to identify genuine Murano glass. A lot of companies are selling fake ‘Murano’ glass on the internet and it is, again, destroying the trade that has sustained the families of the island for decades. The government won’t do anything to help the situation, so it’s up to consumers to act.)
Venice is a really busy city – like I said, it disproportionately
houses tourists rather than residents and so there are a lot of crowds
everywhere, all the time. That said, I found that tourists tended to congregate
around landmarks and boat stops, and that walking only a short distance away
would produce quiet, beautiful streets that I could explore practically
uninterrupted for hours. Venice is a very safe city, so please don’t be afraid
to get lost. It’s also very small – more of a town than a city – so however
lost you get (I didn’t know where I was like 80% of the time), you’re never
that far away from an orientating landmark.
VENICE READING LIST
I mean, I had to make this vaguely bookish, right?
[summaries from Goodreads]
Out of This Century: The Autobiography of Peggy Guggenheim “This is the fascinating autobiography of a society
heiress who became the bohemian doyenne of the art world. Written in her own
words it is the frank and outspoken story of her life and loves”
Stone Virgin by Barry Unsworth “A
mysterious sculpture of a beautiful and erotic Madonna holds the key to the
Fornarini family’s secrets. When Raikes, a conservation expert, tries to
restore her, he is swept under the statue’s spell and swept under the spell of
the seductive Chiara Litsov, a member of the Fornarini family now married to a
famous sculptor. Raikes finds himself losing all moral grounding as his love
for statue and woman intertwine in lust and murder.”
The Glassblower of Murano by Marina Fiorato “Venice,
1681. Glassblowing is the lifeblood of the Republic, and Venetian mirrors are
more precious than gold. Jealously guarded by the murderous Council of Ten, the
glassblowers of Murano are virtually imprisoned on their island in the lagoon.
But the greatest of the artists, Corradino Manin, sells his methods and his
soul to the Sun King, Louis XIV of France, to protect his secret daughter. In
the present day his descendant, Leonora Manin, leaves an unhappy life in London
to begin a new one as a glassblower in Venice. As she finds new life and love
in her adoptive city, her fate becomes inextricably linked with that of her
ancestor and the treacherous secrets of his life begin to come to light.”
When Leigh’s mother dies by suicide she leaves only a scribbled note – I want you to remember.
Leigh doesn’t understand its meaning and wishes she could turn to her best friend, Axel – if only she hadn’t kissed him and changed everything between them.
Guided by a mysterious red bird, Leigh travels to Taiwan to meet her grandparents for the first time. There, Leigh retreats into art and memories, where colours collide, the rules of reality are broken and the ghosts of the past refuse to rest…
But Leigh is determined to unlock her family’s secrets.
I was lucky enough to win a copy of The Astonishing Colour of After by Emily X R Pan in a giveaway run by one of my absolute faves, Marie @ Drizzle and Hurricane Books. Thanks Marie!
And I am so glad because 1. I NEVER win anything so it was very exciting and 2. I absolutely adored this beautiful book, even though by the end it had me sobbing. SOBBING.*
*for the sake of transparency I should note making me cry is very easy. Like, if I’m watching a TV show, even if I don’t even really care about what’s happening, if one of the characters starts crying I will get choked up. Yeah. There might be something a bit wrong with me. That said, this book is very emotional and if you don’t cry… well, I might judge you a little bit for that.
The Astonishing Colour of After is a heart-rending, magical read about grief, love, family, art and identity. Leigh’s world is shattered when her mother dies by suicide. Things between her and her dad are strained – they were before her mother’s death – as they come to terms with their loss, and her relationship with her best friend Axel is in a strange, confused place. They kissed on the day of her mother’s death and ever since she has found herself totally unable to deal with him. With anyone, really.
So Leigh finds herself isolated, grief-stricken and in complete confusion when her mother returns to her in the form of a bird, a streak of scarlet dancing away into the sky whenever Leigh gets close.
This is just the start of the mysterious magic that creeps into Leigh’s life.
Emily X R Pan expertly weaves the story through various different timelines – Leigh in Taiwan, struggling to connect with her mother’s estranged family, the two years leading to her mother’s suicide and her journey into her mother’s family history, which she can access by burning photographs, a necklace or a letter, and be transported into the memory by the flames. As grief and insomnia take their toll on Leigh’s own mental health, as the reader you find yourself constantly questioning what’s actually happening, or what is just in Leigh’s mind as she isolates herself and spirals down under the weight of her pain and trauma.
It’s a novel consumed by grief, but The Astonishing Colour of After is also a mystery. Leigh’s mother was long estranged from her family in Taiwan to the point that she refused to even teach her daughter to speak Mandarin. The reasons for this are slowly revealed as the novel progresses, and watching Leigh navigate her own racial identity without her mother as her guide was a uniquely painful experience to read. Leigh is mixed race, and often called “exotic” by her white peers in America. In Taiwan, she’s dismayed to find that she is exoticised in much the same manner as in the US – people point and whisper, hunxie, a word she soon learns describes someone biracial. This, combined with the language barrier between herself and her grandparents she is meeting for the first time only adds to her sense of isolation and loneliness.
I loved the way that Pan included Chinese mythology in the story – particularly Ghost Month, the seventh month in the lunar calendar, when ghosts roam the earth like “brushstrokes across a canvas”. I also really appreciated the way that she wrote about suicide. One of my various jobs is with a CIC that deliver suicide awareness and suicide first aid training, and since I’ve become more involved with media representation of suicide I’ve become very concerned with the way it is often over simplified for the sake of a clickable headline. Pan doesn’t do that. She pointedly makes the choice not to assign a reason for Dory’s suicide. She has had some traumatic life experiences, yes, but her depression is an illness, not something that can be blamed on any one person or event.
I was happy to see that Pan also avoided using the phrase “committed suicide”. It’s one of those things that we say without really thinking about it, but it’s actually very stigmatising. “Died by suicide” or even “suicided” are much better terms to use. There’s a pretty good article here for anyone interested in learning more about this.
The Astonishing Colour of After is an unforgettable, emotive novel that handles its subject matter with compassion and understanding. It delves deep into family estrangement and how that pain can echo across generations decades later. It is probably my favourite YA read so far this year.
The book that sparked a national conversation. Exploring everything from eradicated black history to the inextricable link between class and race, Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race is the essential handbook for anyone who wants to understand race relations in Britain today.
Why I’m No Longer Talking to White People About Race by Reni Eddo-Lodge is the book about race and Britain I didn’t know I needed.
So, a weird thing about the British education system – at least, back when I was in it – is that you don’t really learn anything about the history of race in the country. The UK’s colonialist history, the atrocities it has inflicted on other countries, how those wounds continue to be felt today were – and I am embarrassed to admit this, but I’ll be honest about it – things I learned entirely by accident through fiction.
I know how white I sound right now.
And yet even in the last few years, as I’ve learned chunks of a history that even now my country fails to be held accountable for, a lot of what I have learned about black history in particular has been through an American lens. It’s a phenomenon Eddo-Lodge describes in the book, the “heavy focus on Rosa Parks, Harriet Tubman’s Underground Railroad and Martin Luther King Jr., the household names of America’s civil rights movement felt important” to her, but far away from her own experiences as a black person in the UK.
Eddo-Lodge then sets up the history of black Britain in brief, from the slave ports dotted all over the country (one of them very near where I live that I had no idea about) to the black and brown soldiers who fought in World War One, promised the end of colonial rule in return for their service (a promise England broke), race riots and the utterly horrifying lynching of Charles Wootton – to which Britain responded by ‘repatriating’ (deporting, basically) 600 black people from the country.
In setting up the history of racism in Britain and its manifestation now, as a reader you can’t help but reflect on what’s changed – but more strikingly, what hasn’t. In 1900, the British government decided that the ‘solution’ to the problem of racist crime in the community was to send black people ‘home’ (to places they had been forcibly removed from by the British who enslaved them). Nowadays we deal with structural racism with a similar ‘out of sight, out of mind’ approach – by pretending it doesn’t exist. As Eddo-Lodge says, white people “truly believe that the experiences of their life as a result of their skin colour can and should be universal.” And yet as she goes onto explain, with the stark disparities in educational opportunities, higher unemployment rates, harsher police responses (for example, black people are twice as likely to be charged with drug possession despite lower rates of use), disproportionate and inappropriate use of the Mental Health Act and generally worse health outcomes for black people, this narrative of equality we have invented quickly falls apart.
Every section of this book is fascinating and challenging, but none more so than the chapter about feminism – specifically Eddo-Lodge’s points about white feminism. That is, for the uninitiated, feminism that doesn’t take account of race. If you’re a white girl born in the nineties, in other words, the feminism that you were brought up on. Eddo-Lodge writes in detail about her experiences with white feminism, and in particular the way that white women often frame themselves as victims in a conversation about their own privilege (think Taylor Swift/ Nicki Minaj VMAs incident from a few years ago) in such a way that paints black women as ‘angry’ villains, effectively pushing them out of the conversation. As Eddo-Lodge puts it: “The white feminist distaste for intersectionality quickly evolved into a hatred for the idea of white privilege – perhaps because to recognise structural racism would have to mean recognising their own whiteness.”
White feminism perceives intersectionality as a threat to its identity. It’s the same old racism under new guise, and one that is rampant even in what many white people consider to be progressive circles.
Even if non-fiction isn’t your go-to, I think you should read this book. Eddo-Lodge’s work is important, powerful and deeply engaged with the political moment without pandering to the idea that racism is something that just happened in the last couple years – she’s very clear that it’s only white people who hadn’t noticed it before 2016. It’s a work that also serves as a call to action and a reminder, for white readers anyway, that the job of picking apart structural racism is the responsibility of everyone – most especially those who have spent their entire lives benefitting from it.
Reni Eddo-Lodge is a vital writer and Why I’m No Longer Talking To White People About Race should be at the top of every intersectional feminist’s reading list.
About an hour after I wrote the below I went down with the most awful norovirus I have ever had. I’ve been in bed for 2 days. Yesterday I watched 9 hours of Mad Men. That is too much Mad Men. I don’t even like that show.
We are on day 3. I plan to get out of bed at some point today. But first I’m posting this because rain or shine I am determined to stick to my weekly schedule goddamnit!
Based in Cornwall, England, this impressive botanical project opened in the late 1990s. I visited when I was a kid but hadn’t been back since, so when my bestie and I were planning a trip out recently we decided to head down there are check it out. Two enormous domes – biomes, as they’re known – house a wide range of plant and animal life. You’ve got the Mediterranean biome – the smaller of the two, this one is comfortable to walk around in, packed with birds and bright flowers and a cute little pizza place I’d recommend for some lunch. There are a whole of bunch of food options at TEP, but we thought this was by far the nicest one. After you’ve eaten your pizza, have a wander and make sure to check out the tulips in the spring – they’re truly gorgeous – and the weird Bacchanalian sculptures for The Secret History vibes.
After that you head into the rainforest biome, and, as much as I loved hanging out in the Mediterranean, this was really the highlight of the day for me. Hot, sticky and humid as hell, regardless of the weather come with the knowledge that whatever you’re wearing, after you’ve spent about 15 minutes in here you’re going to want to take it off.
(Also, just give up on your hair for the day.)
Packed with beautiful rainforest plants including bananas, cacao trees and the orchid pergola, which houses over 500 different species, make sure to also watch out for the birds, lizards and beetles that call this biome home. Despite the heat, which the higher you climb does become quite extreme, we spent more than an hour inside the rainforest biome. It’s full of fascinating facts about the impact loss of the rainforest is having on the planet in addition to a beautiful but utterly devastating exhibition of photography of native people – who the TEP describe as natural environmentalists – and how climate change and deforestation has destroyed their way of living in so many places.
And the biomes are really just half of your day. Beautiful gardens, fascinating exhibitions and a massive play area for the kids in addition to activities like zip lining (super expensive but looks SO FUN) mean you can comfortably spend the entire day here – and at £25 for entry, you’re going to want to!
To watch: Barry (HBO/NowTV)
This weird show about a depressed hitman turned actor is dark, menacing, depressing and very very funny. A lot of shows boast a ‘morally grey’ leading man, but Bill Hader’s fantastic turn as Barry is one of the only lovable murderers on TV I have genuinely complicated feelings about, owing to an awful/brilliant twist at the end of the first season. Watch it nooooowww.
To listen: Mitski
I have commitment issues, but with this girl I’m in it for the long haul. Mitski isn’t new to me but she is the only artist I can think of where every time I hear a song I get lost in her albums for days.
In this ingenious horror story set in colonial New England, a woman goes missing. Or not missing – perhaps she has fled, abandoned her family. Or perhaps she’s been kidnapped and set loose to wander in the dense woods of the north. Alone and possibly lost, she meets another woman in the forest. Then everything changes.
On a journey that will take her through a wolf-haunted wood, down a deep well, and onto a living ship made of human bones, our heroine is forced to confront her past and may find that the evil she flees has been inside her all along.
Eerie and disturbing, In The House In The Dark Woods is a novel of psychological horror and suspense told in Laird Hunt’s acclaimed lyrical prose. It is the story of a bewitching, a betrayal, a master huntress and her quarry. It is a story of anger, of oppression, of revenge and redemption.
It is a story of a haunting, one that forms the bedrock of American mythology, told in a vivid voice you will never forget.
I love following the Belletrist book club – even if I am several months behind at any given time – because almost always it introduces me to a title that never would have been on my radar otherwise. In The House In The Dark Woods, their pick from back in October, is a dark horror-fairy tale, a sinister and magical story about patriarchy, violence and coercion.
“For my own part I kept very quiet, as quiet as I have ever been, for there are things in this world that you think will never come to pass that will rob you of your voice for nothing but the joy of them when suddenly they do.”
Laird Hunt has a lyrical and strange writing style that is beautiful, but, for me anyway, took a little time to get used to. He is prone to very long sentences that follow the narrator’s rambling thoughts. They’re often lovely, but easy to get lost in. Kind of like the woods Goody, the narrator – not her real name, which we never learn – wanders, I guess.
The dark woods are filled with supernatural and formidable women. Captain Jane, self-styled queen of the woods, second only to Granny Someone, an evil force who only consumes; Eliza, a fairy-like presence with a welcoming cottage for weary wood-wanderers – well, friendly at first; and Hope, the mysterious child who always seems to show up at the exact moment you need her the most.
Everything about the narrative is unreliable – from Goody’s Man, who she initially represents as a caring presence she is desperate to find her way home to before soon revealing him as violent and abusive, to the very fabric of the woods, which seen through a magical stone turn horrifying, with even the animals transformed to monsters through its lens.
Most of all In The House In The Dark Woods is a deeply unsettling horror story. It’s hard to go into any analytical detail without spoilers – the curse of reviewing a story with an unreliable narrator – but with carefully constructed half-truths, corner-of-the-eye jumps and the sudden and jarring injection of the grotesque, Hunt winds a tight knot of anxiety in your stomach, even as you wonder what on earth is going on.
If you enjoyed the tragic twist at the end of We Were Liars or the underlying act of horror at the centre of The Walls Around Usthen the complex and misleading women that populate In The House In The Dark Woods will likely catch your imagination too.