Chick

steveo Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Local authors: like shit in a field > > Jim Royle Eh?? Seams a bit harsh.

Greetings book clubbers, So far I have confirmation from Sheila, Helen, Debbie, Vicky, Kathy, Alexia, Mike & Hermany that they are coming to the next meeting in Mirash. Any one else?? If so please drop me a line. Thanks Chick

Greetings book clubbers, A big thanks to every one who came along for a very good meeting last night. The next meeting is on the 14th March at 7.30. Helen, our very own Sloane ranger is leaving for a better book club in Hong Kong and to wish her goodbye our next venue is The Mirash next to Goose Green, for talks on books and good food. Please let me know if you wish to come along and I will book a table. The next book is; The Suspicions of Mr. Whicher by Kate Summerscale. Abrief synopsis: On June 30 1860 Saville Kent, the youngest son of the well-to-do family who lived in Road Hill House, a three-storey Georgian house in the village of Road, Wiltshire, was discovered in the privy, a large cesspool about 10ft deep and 7ft square, with his throat cut. It soon became apparent that someone sleeping in the house must have committed the crime because all the windows and doors were bolted from the inside. The local police failed to make a convincing arrest in the first few weeks and there was an outcry in the national press. A detective was dispatched from Scotland Yard to investigate. Whicher's probing uncovered the secrets of Road Hill House, and what he found reeked. Samuel Kent's first wife was said to be insane. She had 10 children, of whom five died at birth or in infancy, and she lived more or less confined to a wing of the house while Samuel took up with the governess, Mary Pratt. When the first Mrs Kent died in her early forties, he married Mary, who went on to have Saville, the murdered boy, and two other children. Adultery was only part of the deception. Samuel Kent appeared to be a wholly plausible country gent, but was in fact living well beyond his means. He was a civil servant ? an inspector of factories ? and his country house was rented. The villagers disliked him because he prosecuted them for trespassing on his land and poaching from his rivers. And the children from his first family resented him (especially William and Constance) because he clearly favoured the children from his second family, who included the murdered boy. Look forward to seeing you there.

Just a reminder, will see you all on 15th.

Just a reminder, will see you all on 15th.

This link may be of interest. http://www.hawkesburyhistory.org.au/stubbs/tunnel.html

Peckhamgatecrasher Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Out of interest, why is Oakhurst Grove a > conversation area? It's not particularly > remarkable or pretty. Em, yes it is.

Greetings book clubbers. Hope you all had a good new year. I did. The next meeting is on 15th February in the Clockhouse. The chosen book is ?The Secret River? by Kate Grenville. A brief synopsis: Following The Idea of Perfection was always going to be a tough call. Five years on from her Orange Prize-winning bestseller about middle-aged love in the Outback, Kate Grenville has turned to something quite different: historical fiction and a story about convict settlement. This is a narrative whose outlines we know already: convicts transported to Sydney, eventually pardoned, encouraged to settle what seemed to be an empty continent. They didn't understand, and wouldn't have cared, that the land they were occupying was sacred to the mysterious, dark-skinned people who appeared and disappeared from the forests and seemed to them no more than naked savages. The William Thornhill born in the opening pages is clearly marked out for poverty, suffering, degradation and criminality. We've been reading this story at least since Dickens and, in contrast, say, to Sarah Waters' linguistically brilliant portrayal of the Borough in Fingersmith, there is a sense of having been here before, of marking time, of earning the rest of the novel. It does, though, turn out to be worth it. There isn't much underlying moral ambiguity in this book: the costs of settlement are appalling, which makes Thornhill its villain, even while he carries its sympathetic weight. Grenville is particularly good on inarticulate love, and Thornhill's relationship with his wife, Sal, civilises him, makes him a good man and ensures that the reader is on his side. As husband, father and hard-working, decent man, he is also the book's hero. Once freed, Thornhill falls in love with a point of land up the Hawkesbury River with the visceral desire for ownership of someone who has never been allowed to own anything. He dreams of his own hundred acres, of dignity and entitlement. It never crosses his mind, since the land is not settled, that it could already be owned. Grenville writes exactingly and with passion about the Australian landscape: the bright light, the skinny, grey-green trees that refuse to shed their leaves, the cliffs that tumble into the river through snaking mangroves. Thornhill recognises that this is a landscape that can remake a man. She is also wonderful on the ex-cons who settle the river, left to get on with things by the authorities. Some, miraculously, find ways to accommodate themselves with the Aborigines, despite their isolation, fear and brutal pasts. Gradually, Thornhill starts faintly to appreciate that the Aborigines most remind him of the gentry back home. They don't appear to work for their food: they spend their days creating art, telling stories, making their babies laugh. And then he has to make a decision. This is where the sense that the book is heading somewhere familiar really works for Grenville; she plays throughout on a threat of impending disaster. It's difficult to read this novel without a heavy heart, because it's obvious that not everything can possibly work out. Violence is erupting along the river, but a way opens up for Will to keep his wife and children safe and hold on to everything he has worked for. All it would take would be to stomach the necessary bloody, terrible, knowing violence. The Secret River is a sad book, beautifully written and, at times, almost unbearable with the weight of loss, competing distresses and the impossibility of making amends. Thanks to every one who came to the last meeting and to Sheila for bring the original world war one maps. I have once again applied to be a giver on World book night. Will keep you informed.

Dont forget Birdsong tonight.

Oh have we got a Papa John's?

Birdsong is on BBC1 Sunday night at 9.00.

Greetings book clubbers, Just a reminder that we are meeting tomorrow at the Clockhouse at 7.30 to 8.00. Happy new year and see you there.

A perfectly good picture if your analogue is good.

Captain Scarlet Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > In 100 yrs we will be all dead. > Racism,Religion,politics will still exist..Major > causes of upheavel in the world. Tarot troll

Why not hang em? Or sterilise em so they can?t produce the next generation of thieves?

Anyone missing Skippy the kangaroo?

How many people walk down to the lights then back up to the shops? Zebra crossings are low maintenance and most drivers are very good at observing their function.

A zebra crossing at the bottom of Oakhurst would help. It's certainly overdue.

Thanks

Description??

katie1997 Wrote: ------------------------------------------------------- > Thomas Micklewright Wrote: > -------------------------------------------------- > ----- > It would be great to > > see pro-hunters there for a balanced > discussion. > > Hope you can all make it, > > Tom - if you do a search, you'll find there's a > previous thread asking if there are any hunters in > East Dulwich. There weren't. And not many of the > pro-hunting persuasion either. So am not sure if > you're likely to get a 'balanced discussion' > going. > > I know you are really passionate about animals and > their welfare but I'd love to see you start a > thread about something else too. You are forgeting trollthehunter?

Tarot, you are nuts. Why don?t you get married to Thatcher and both of you bog off to the moon.

8th December where?

Why dont you phone the police and have his vehicle towed away?

Now now children.