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Thursday, 20 November 2025

Kingdom On Earth (1941) by ANNE BROOKS

 
Cope Books print on demand edition, 2007

 
Although it was August, the night was very cold, and Harriet sat close to her new husband and kept her right hand in his pocket.  They could see the moonlight through the windows of the station wagon, but it was yellowish, distorted by the smoky isinglass which showed the prints of dogs' paws and human fingers.
    In the front seats, Harriet could see the heads of Joel's family.  The car light silhouetted them into four black knobs.  They were singing, soprano, tenor, alto and a tuneless bass.  In the darkness Harriet smiled at them tenderly.  Joel had said that she would like them, but he had forgotten the important thing, which was that they would like her.  Joel hadn't realized yet how uncertain she was, and afraid of people.  But there could be no fear where people were so friendly.  Harriet had never known that a family could be as affectionate as this and at the same time as unpossessive.  The only other warmth she had ever known had been grasping.
 
 
The Novel:  It is 1938 and shy, socially awkward Harriet has just married the handsome and confident Joel Randolf, a man who is in many ways the antithesis of her stodgy professor father — the kind of parent who, by simply being himself, ensured she had a lonely, emotionally deprived childhood.  She and Joel have just returned from their honeymoon in Mexico and are visiting the Randolf estate in South Wales, Connecticut before returning to New York City where her charming new husband will shortly resume his promising career in advertising. 
 
Harriet feels dazzled and humbled by the Randolfs — Joel's elder sister Kit and her PhD candidate husband Gray, the pretty younger sister Pris and their somewhat dim if eminently respectable mother Elaine — and the ease with which they conduct their lives and seem to take their inherited wealth and its associated privileges for granted.  
 
But, unbeknownst to Harriet and her new in-laws, this carefree lifestyle is about to come to an abrupt and permanent end.  A visit from the family lawyer, the man charged with handling their finances following the death of Joel's father, reveals that their investments are practically worthless thanks to the combination of poor decision making and the late John Randolf's long term mismanagement of the family's money.  The lawyer advises Elaine to sell the family home — which is now worth much less than her deceased husband paid for it — and re-locate to a cheap apartment in the city.  
 
Although shocked by this unexpected news, the Randolfs strive to adopt a positive attitude to their situation, telling themselves that being poor will be an adventure and not necessarily something to fear and dread.  Harriet, forced to raise herself in a cash-strapped household following the death of her mother, admires their grace and fortitude.  Joel and his family, she generously decides, are very brave people.  'They had never been used to anything but luxury; the prospect of being without it must be more frightening to them than it was to her.  She knew, even with her limited experience, that pressure of this sort can bring out all sorts of uglinesses in people.  But here were the Randolfs, not only being strong, but actually making a joke out of the whole thing.'  Soon, everything is settled between them.  They will move to the city, with Kit and Pris declaring themselves willing to look for work should the need arise.  But for now, the family decides, they'll try to retain the South Wales house, expensive though it is to run.

By September 1938 Elaine, Kit, Gray and Pris are sharing an apartment on Riverside Drive near Columbia University (where Gray is studying for his doctorate) while Joel and Harriet are installed in an apartment of their own on the outskirts of Greenwich Village.  Money remains tight but Harriet has a gift for economizing and providing the small wifely touches which mean that Joel hardly misses his former luxurious, semi-rural home.  There's even cause for cautious optimism after Joel, having breezed in late from work with liquor on his breath, takes Harriet to their favorite Italian restaurant to celebrate the news that he may be on the verge of landing a very important advertising account courtesy of an old college friend.  Do a good job with it, he confides to his delighted wife, and he'll be in line for a promotion and a raise, the implication being that they will then be in the position to start a family of their own.
 
But life is not looking quite so promising for the other members of the Randolf clan.  Kit has had no luck finding herself a job, while Pris and Elaine hardly seem to have acknowledged their changed circumstances, continuing to spend so much money that selling their beloved family estate has now become a matter of urgent financial necessity.  Joel agrees this is the only course of action open to them and jokes that he looks forward to being rich again.  Again, Harriet admires the family's fortitude, thinking it wrong that people as fine as the Randolfs should have to scrimp and save as she's been obliged by necessity to do all her life.  
 
Things begin to look up again when, a few months later, Kit invites Harriet to lunch to pass along the news that she's at last found a job as a salesgirl at Considine's department store, a place she often patronized as a customer and at which she once held a charge account.  This small success appears to have changed Kit, filling her with an undisguised ambition she formerly did not possess.  "I've changed, though, Harriet," she admits to her slightly stunned sister-in-law over cocktails.  "Just the feeling of earning my own money has changed me.  I want to be independent all the way through.  Can you understand that?"  Harriet can understand this but is nevertheless surprised to see Kit gradually change from a laconic lady of leisure into a hardnosed businesswoman, determined to capitalize on every opportunity she's offered or can negotiate for herself by ethical means or otherwise.  
 
Kit also distances herself from her family, ending the longstanding tradition of joining them each week for Sunday lunch.  Elaine is hurt by this defection, while Pris seems too preoccupied with the loss of a former beau — a Harvard man named Fulke — who once wanted to marry her to be concerned by her sister's uncharacteristically grasping behavior.  Pris jokes to Harriet that her only hope of enjoying a stable future will be to marry a rich man.  Concerned that Pris may be serious about this, Harriet raises the issue with Joel, only to learn that, on his advice, Elaine invested all the money she received from the sale of the family home in a company whose share price has plummeted, effectively bankrupting her.  With Kit now doing well enough to afford an apartment of her own, their next step is obvious — they must give up their cosy flat and move in with his mother and Pris. 
 
A pattern soon begins to emerge.  As Kit does better at her job, eventually stealing the position of the woman who mentored her with no concern for the ruthlessness of her actions, so too does Pris's situation improve when she begins to date a wealthy 'scientific' farmer named Kenneth Tryson.  Tryson is a pretentious boor but his money makes him an acceptable suitor, particularly in the eyes of the perpetually bewildered Elaine, even though Harriet is fully aware that Pris is far from being genuinely attracted to the man.  
 
Harriet, however, has her own problems to contend with.  She notices that Joel has begun to drink much more than usual, unaware that he's doing so because he's lost the big account he was given and been put on notice by his boss to either shape up or be fired.  He stumbles in drunk one afternoon when he should be out visiting a client, full of remorse and self-pity and behaving as though he wants to be scolded for having failed to provide for her.  But Harriet can't bring herself to scold him.  She pities him and takes his side, insisting he can turn things around if only he'll regain a little of his former confidence and make a concerted effort to apply himself.  
 
But Joel's almost too frank confession of inadequacy also disturbs Harriet, prompting her to take the unprecedented step of enrolling in a typing course in case her husband does get fired and she needs to find paid work in a hurry.  'Probably every man was as full of doubts and uncertainties as Joel,' she loyally reminds herself while practicing at her typewriter one night.  'It wasn't fair to expect to lean entirely on him, she must be able to give him support too.  But in spite of all her arguments, she knew that she had been happier the old way.  There had been something exciting and poetic about their marriage then… The trouble was that she hated to lose that sensation now.  It was wrong and unintelligent of her, but she hated to see it go.'
 
Yet go it does despite her growing list of anxieties and regrets.  As his sisters appear to pull their lives together — with Kit becoming ever more ruthless and ever more ashamed of her floundering relatives while Pris secures her future by paying a clandestine late night visit to Kenneth Tryson's bed — the formerly sparkling Joel comes to feel burdened by his responsibilities and resentful of his wife's desire to acquire some basic secretarial skills.  They argue about this on their way home from a concert neither of them has enjoyed, only to forgive each other and make love as soon as they get home.  Although they agree to forget all the hurtful things that were said in the heat of anger, Harriet is aware that something is still bothering Joel who, when pressed by her to come clean about his feelings, admits that he lost his job the week before but has been too afraid to say so.  
 
With no other option available to them, Harriet finds a job as a secretary to a 'difficult' writer named McIlvaine.   "He's sort of a literary hack," the woman at the secretarial agency informs her.  "He's an odd sort of duck, it's hard to get on with him."  Harriet, however, finds McIlvaine a remarkably easy man to work for.  Impressed by her talent for editing and organization, he comes to rely on her more and more, even listening to Harriet's suggestions for improving the articles he churns out with such impressive if monotonous regularity.  So useful do her suggestions prove that Harriet herself is soon offered a job, with McIlvaine's full knowledge and consent, by his editor.
 
In the meantime Pris announces that she and the lumpish Mr Tryson are going to be married, shocking Harriet, when they meet by chance on the street, with the news that she's pregnant and that their civil wedding ceremony will be taking place that same evening.  The family are briefly reunited for this event and a few days later, at Kit's invitation, Harriet visits her in the apartment she's now in the process of leaving.  Kit confides that she's recently argued with Joel because he expected her to find him a new job in the advertising department at Considine's, stating bluntly that she has no intention of jeopardizing her position by doing that and can't understand how Harriet can bear to remain married to such a feckless weakling.  When Harriet suggests that Kit doesn't really mean to criticize her brother, Kit responds with a smile and asks if Harriet realizes why all the Randolfs have always been so fond of her.  "Because you always think the best of us," she explains.  "We're a bunch of bums, really, but you couldn't be persuaded of it, could you?"  Harriet denies this and asks Kit where her husband is, only to be informed that she and Gray are now in the process of filing for divorce.  Again, Harriet is taken aback by this news, only to be told that Kit feels Gray is too spineless for her to remain married to him.  "I didn't know how things like this can work on people.  I didn't realize that every little word would have to be watched, that I would be stepping on Gray's toes continually.  I can't go on living that way, Harriet, it's too damned much of a strain."
 
These words, upsetting though they are, cannot help but strike a chord in Harriet regarding her own floundering marriage.  Things come to a head during another Sunday gathering, with Kit on hand to stir up old resentments while she and Joel criticize the absent Pris for having duped Tryson into marrying her while Elaine, confused as ever, fumbles to defend the actions of her youngest daughter.  This is too much for Harriet, who begins to feel ill and flees to the roof to escape not only her squabbling in-laws but also the oppressive summer heat.  'I am tired of them, she thought.  Elaine, who's so foolish; Kit with her thoughtlessness, striving so hard to imitate a type of success that only that kind of intelligence would tell her is desirable.  And Pris.  Pris had wanted more than the rest of the world and she had gotten it even if she had to cheat the rest of the world by breaking their rules… They had lost consecutiveness, she hadn't the strength to organize them.  She missed Gray, he had been on her side, Gray would have helped her now, he had already faced these things.'  Joel appears and leads Harriet back downstairs, his attempts to comfort and console her not only unwanted but suddenly intolerable.  The family are equally solicitous of her, telling her to lie down and rest, something she's more than happy to do if only to keep her distance from them.  When she awakens again several hours later Pris and her husband are there, discussing their impending move to the country and Pris's now obvious pregnancy.  Only when she and Pris are alone, discussing the latter's morning sickness, does Harriet connect how ill she felt earlier that afternoon with the fact that she too must be pregnant.
 
The story concludes as it began, with Harriet visiting Joel's family in the country.  But this time it's Pris and Kenneth's home that she and Joel and Kit are visiting — a household that has now expanded to include Elaine, who will be staying on, they're told, to help care for her new grandchild.  Harriet, formerly so dazzled by the Randolfs, now feels suffocated by them and plans to tell Joel, after informing him that he's about to become a father, that she plans to leave him.  Her desire to part from him becomes even stronger after Joel rejects a new job Kenneth has gone out of his way to arrange for him with the brokerage firm he uses.  Joel is grateful but adamant that the job will not suit him, that he'll be destined to fail at it just as he failed as an advertising salesman.  But his attitude changes when he learns that Harriet is expecting.  Suddenly, there's a hint of the old, confident Joel, the man Harriet once loved so passionately, the charming stranger who has been absent from her life for so long.  He agrees to accept the job and starts babbling about his son going to college some day, leaving the deeply conflicted Harriet with an extremely difficult choice to make.  
 
 
 
 
The Writer:  Anne Brooks was twenty-five when her debut novel Kingdom On Earth was published in 1941.  It was praised by the critics and was followed in 1942 by Hang My Heart, a second novel that was greeted even more enthusiastically and saw her touted as a writer from whom great things might be expected in the future.
 
Sadly, this was not to be the case.  According to Brad Bigelow, whose post on his excellent 'forgotten literature' website Neglected Books was what first drew me to read Brooks's work, she subsequently disappeared from public view and never published a third novel.  Nor is her fate an uncommon one.  Many writers, promising and otherwise, stop writing due to discouragement, illness or that pernicious condition known as 'writer's block.'  It's a great pity that someone as gifted as Brooks gave up writing fiction.  As should hopefully be clear from this review, she was a writer of exceptional talent with an eye for telling personal and atmospheric detail that was nothing short of extraordinary.  Unfortunately, there's not a single photograph of her or either of her novels — both of which are long out of print — available to view online.
 
 
 
 
Use the link below to download a free legal copy of Kingdom On Earth, published by William Morrow and Company in 1941, from the Internet Archive.  (I recommended downloading the PDF version which, despite missing two pages, is the most readable version available.)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Several online publishers, including Cope Books, have offered both Kingdom On Earth and Hang My Heart as print-on-demand books in previous years but neither title now appears to be available.
 
 
 
 
Special thanks to BRAD BIGELOW for alerting me to the work of ANNE BROOKS and to that of so many other wonderful 'forgotten writers' via his unfailingly informative Neglected Books website:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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Thursday, 13 November 2025

Poet of the Month 106: EZRA POUND

 

 
EZRA POUND
1885 – 1972 


 

 

 

 

THE TEA SHOP

 

 

The girl in the tea shop

      Is not so beautiful as she was,

The August has worn against her.

She does not get up the stairs so eagerly;

Yes, she also will turn middle-aged,

And the glow of youth that she spread about us

      As she brought us our muffins

Will be spread about us no longer.

      She also will turn middle-aged.

 

 

 

collected in 

Lustra 

(1916) 

 

 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read more poems by North American poet, translator and critic EZRA POUND:

 

 

https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/ezra-pound

 

 

 

 

 

 

You might also enjoy:

 

 

Poet of the Month 060: HART CRANE

 

 

Poet of the Month 056: TS ELIOT

 

 

Poet of the Month 050: FORD MADOX FORD

   

Thursday, 6 November 2025

The Write Advice 224: CRAIG B BARKACS

 

Far more than a source of entertainment, fiction immerses readers in narratives that sharpen empathy, heighten self-awareness, and bolster adaptability. By stepping into the lives of richly drawn characters, readers not only enrich their minds but also develop the social, emotional, and cognitive skills essential for succeeding in today’s complex professional landscape…Engaging with a fictional narrative offers an unparalleled opportunity to inhabit the minds of others. Fiction provides a safe space to analyze interpersonal dynamics without personal risk, fostering emotional awareness in an unpressured environment. Through the lens of diverse characters, readers experience triumphs, failures, and complexities that enhance their capacity for empathy. The emotional resonance with characters, be it a hero’s victory or a villain’s descent, deepens the reader’s understanding of varied human experiences…Stories allow readers to confront their desires, fears, and aspirations through the experiences of fictional characters, often revealing truths about their own lives. For instance, a story featuring a character overcoming mental health challenges can inspire readers to acknowledge and address their own struggles. Fiction creates a transformative and non-threatening space for deeper self-understanding.

 

'Ignite the Transformative Power of Reading Fiction' [Psychology Today, 6 March 2025]

 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read the full article by North American psychologist CRAIG B BARKACS:

 

 

https://www.psychologytoday.com/au/blog/power-and-influence/202503/ignite-the-transformative-power-of-reading-fiction 

 

 

 

 

 

You might also enjoy: 

 

 

The Write Advice 188: JUDY BLUME

 

 

The Write Advice 124: JENNIFER DUMMER

 

 

The Write Advice 024: JERZY KOSINSKI

 

Thursday, 30 October 2025

Think About It 116: AMANDA MARCOTTE

 

The [COVID-19] pandemic didn't convert people to the right, so much as it revealed the reactionary and even fascistic leaning of so many people who insisted they offer 'natural' alternatives to 'medicalized' health care…much of the anti-vaccine rhetoric was centered on the notion that 'fit' people don't 'need' vaccines, because their exercise and diet routines were medicine enough. This built on years, even decades of 'wellness' rhetoric that is openly hostile to the idea that health is a communal concern, instead framing good health as a status symbol signaling one's superiority to the hoi polloi…a lot of self-proclaimed advocates of 'wellness' saw health as strictly an individual concern, often to the point of employing genocidal rhetoric implying the pandemic was cleansing the human race of the less worthy. Despite surface rhetoric decrying 'Big Pharma,' the alt-medicine industry is, if anything, a bigger fan of predatory capitalism. The whole world is awash in scammy supplements and overpriced, ineffective diet plans, none of which is subject to the regulation or research requirements that hem in, however imperfectly, the pharmaceutical industry.

 

'RFK Jr's tour with Jordan Peterson: ' "Make America Healthy Again" shows why "alt medicine" went MAGA ' [Salon, 26 September 2024]

 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read the full article by US journalist AMANDA MARCOTTE: 

 

 

https://www.salon.com/2024/09/26/rfk-jrs-tour-with-jordan-peterson-make-america-healthy-again-shows-why-alt-medicine-went-maga/

 

 

 

 

You might also enjoy:

 

 

Think About It 094: AMANDA MARCOTTE

 

 

Think About It 080: DOROTHY ROWE

 

 

Think About It 063: ALICE KOLLER

    

Thursday, 23 October 2025

Joby (1964) by STAN BARSTOW



New Windmill/Heinemann Books UK, 1983

 


What did he want? Joby asked himself as he walked away from the house.  What was it he was looking for?  Did he really believe his mother was in danger, that she wasn't coming back to make life as before?  He didn't know what he did believe.  Somehow the events of the afternoon had contracted themselves into a sharp point of loneliness and uncertainty which ripped a small tear in the protective fabric of his world.  So that he now looked through the tear at his world and though it seemed in almost every way the same it was in fact different… He wanted, he needed now, a grown-up whom he could trust and who would, if only for a few minutes, talk to him directly, really talk to him, person to person, without evasions or mention of rules or fobbing him off because he wouldn't understand.  He could understand if only he had the chance.  But it seemed there was only one person who would even make the attempt to talk to him like that, and she wasn't here and he couldn't get to her.



 

The Novel:  The transition from childhood to adolescence to adulthood can be a challenging, confusing, emotionally painful experience and, for many people, a physically painful process as well.  This probably explains why it has always served as such a popular theme for novels in the West, some of which — The Member of the Wedding (1946), The Catcher in the Rye (1951), The Go-Between (1953), Billy Liar (1959), That Was Then, This Is Now (1971) and even the ubiquitous Harry Potter series (1997–2007) to some extent — have gone on to achieve iconic status for their depictions of children struggling to come to terms with the unavoidable and sometimes unduly harsh realities of adult life.


While Stan Barstow's Joby may not be as well known or as widely read today as these novels, it nevertheless remains a notable addition to the canon of twentieth century children's literature, recreating a time and place — a small Yorkshire mining town in the final peacetime summer of 1939 — with unpatronising precision and a remarkable sense of warmth and compassion.  What happens to eleven year old Joseph Barry Weston after he's sent off to stay with his nagging Auntie Daisy for what he's been told will only be a few days while his mother goes to hospital proves to be as life-changing for him as it does, in the end, for his parents.


Denied access to his 'Mam,' as he calls her, for the first time in his life and fearful that the truth about her health is being hidden from him — a fear that reduces him to tears when he learns, on the morning of her departure, that she'll be undergoing surgery while she's away — Joby finds himself plunged into a world that, while outwardly still recognisable as the familiar world of childhood, quickly begins to change in ways that are completely unforeseen and, for that reason, deeply unsettling to him.  It's the way Barstow explores these changes and the responses they trigger — the known and safe being replaced by what is unknown and unsafe and, at its worst, threatening — that makes this short but flawlessly written novel so worthy of rediscovery.  Joby gradually ceases to be a quiet well-mannered boy whose studiousness has earned him a place at his local grammar school and becomes the kind of boy who deliberately shuns the company of his best friend Snap, gets into fistfights, spies on adult lovers having sex outdoors, exposes himself to a girl (who in turn exposes herself to him), regularly steals from shops and sends a bottle of stolen perfume to a different girl named Elsa Laedeker whose family are recently escaped Jewish refugees from Nazi Germany. 

 

Joby also violates the strictly enforced rule that forbids children from visiting hospitals and surprises his cousin Mona — a dozy teenager who has been roped in to doing his dad's housework while his Mam's away — coming downstairs from his parents' bedroom where his dad, he's nervously informed by her, is laid up sick in bed.  Joby is immediately struck by how breathless Mona appears to be and the uncharacteristic redness of her face.  A few Sundays later, when his dad comes to his Auntie Daisy's house to have his tea and offers to help Mona with the washing up, Joby overhears them talking in the scullery in a very unusual way and creeps forward so he can better observe them through the room's half-open door.  'His father kissed Mona on the mouth,' we're told, 'before she pushed him away with, "Give it up now; don't be so daft".'



Michael Joseph Ltd first UK edition


 

Eventually, Joby's Mam is released from hospital and returns to the family home.  But while all is apparently well with her physically, the same can't be said of her emotionally.  Following an informative visit from Mr Laedeker, father of Elsa, the Jewish girl to whom Joby made a gift of the stolen perfume, his Mam angrily sends him to bed, only to see him wake up hours later in need of his supper and a drink of water.  Sneaking downstairs in search of them, Joby once again finds himself ideally placed to eavesdrop on an adult conversation — this time a more heated one in which his Mam argues with his Auntie Daisy and Mona who, it's eventually revealed, had been on the verge of running off to Manchester with Joby's dad who has, it appears, now vanished.

 

The next day Joby's dad still hasn't returned home, prompting another visit from sanctimonious Auntie Daisy who this time brings her husband, Mona's father, with her.  Their blustering presence drives Joby out of the house, sending him down to the river where, to his shock, he finds his dad stretched out on the grass in his best suit, a new cloth cap set low on his head, gazing thoughtfully at the water.  'His best clothes somehow added to the strangeness of his sitting there alone like this, and as Joby looked at him he experienced for the first time a sense of his father as not his father… He saw for the first time his father as a person carrying about with him a world of his own… He was only a part of his father's world whereas his father belonged to his, Joby's, world in its entirety.  And things were far from well in his father's world.'  Joby tries to question his dad, who dismisses him, as every other adult he knows has always done, with the statement that he 'wouldn't understand' the situation he's in because he's far too young to know about such things.  He tells Joby to go back home and Joby obeys, only to stop walking after a few steps, terrified at the prospect of what his dad might do to himself if left to his own devices.  

 

The Joby who turns around to fetch his dad away from the riverbank is no longer a little boy.  While he doesn't fully comprehend what's happened to his family, he has learned enough to realise that the life he'll be living from now on will never be the same sort of life he lived with his Mam and dad before the former went to hospital.  


 

 

STAN BARSTOW, c 1960



The Writer:  'There are no villains in Stan Barstow’s fiction,' wrote journalist Andrew Darlington in a 1973 article about the Yorkshire born novelist, playwright and radio dramatist whose literary debut A Kind of Loving, published to rave reviews in 1960, remains a key work of mid-century British social realism.  'Only victims.  When you think in terms of his working class background, and the outlook you could expect to develop from such roots, that may seem strange… Politically, Barstow’s characters say only what he feels they would say, never what he feels they should be saying… the most obvious reason for Barstow’s apolitical style is his interest — not in issues, but individuals.'  It is this interest in investigating the psychology of individuals trapped in lives they can't seem to escape that makes Barstow's fiction — be it novel, story or play written for stage or radio — so engaging and enduringly relevant.  

Stanley Barstow, the son of a coal miner, was born on 28 June 1928 in the West Riding town of Horbury and was first educated at his local council school before doing well enough in his Eleven Plus exam to earn a place at Ossett Grammar School in nearby Wakefield.  From here he preceded to his own table in the draughting office of Charles Robert Engineering, a local Horbury firm where he would remain until the success of A Kind of Loving — greatly enhanced by its award winning 1962 cinematic adaptation directed by John Schlesinger — made it possible for him to become a full-time writer.  He was, by then, married to his former schoolmate Connie Kershaw and the father of two young children, Neil and Gillian.

Barstow first began writing on his honeymoon when the combination of damp weather in the Lake District and the encouragement of his new bride prompted him to try his hand at a short story.  He was twenty-three years old and, according to a 1969 interview, 'didn't think for a moment anybody would take me seriously as a writer or that there was anything in me worth taking seriously.  I began to regret the years of slacking at school but I was looking for some kind of creative outlet.'  As he would later recall in his 2001 autobiography, he sold a total of four stories over the next eight years, earning enough to buy a Remington portable typewriter and provide him with an incentive to keep on writing.  He produced his first novel in 1955, a thriller about two teenage boys who travel to Blackpool for a holiday after one of them has assaulted and robbed a local shopkeeper, which was rejected by every publisher he sent it to, only to be revised and appear in 1987 as his tenth published novel B-Movie.

A Kind of Loving, which became the Book Society Choice of 1960 and has seldom been out of print since, was followed a year later by his first short fiction collection The Desperadoes and Other Stories and in 1962 by Ask Me Tomorrow, the autobiographical tale of a young Yorkshire writer named Wilf Cotton.  Barstow's next novel was Joby which, like much of his work, would go on to be successfully adapted for television in 1975.  This was also the case with what came to be known as the 'Vic Brown Trilogy,' consisting of A Kind of Loving and its sequels The Watchers on the Shore (1966) and The Right True End (1976) which became an eagerly anticipated ten part Granada Television serial that premiered in the UK on 4 April 1982. 

Much of Barstow's other work was also adapted for radio and the stage, with his first original work for the latter medium — Stringer's Last Stand, written in collaboration with Albert Bradley — debuting in 1971 at York's Theatre Royal.  By now a well-established writer whose work sold steadily and was generally admired by the critics, Barstow was commissioned to adapt Winifred Holtby's novel South Riding into a thirteen part series for Yorkshire Television in 1974.  He also published four further collections of his own short fiction between 1969 and 1984, all of which were collected, along with his first collection, as The Likes of Us: Stories of Five Decades by the Welsh-based Parthian Press in 2013.



 

STAN BARSTOW, c 2005

 

Barstow and his wife separated in 1990 (though never divorced), after which he began a relationship with fellow radio playwright Diana Griffiths.  The couple moved to South Wales in 2000, Barstow having published what would be his final novel Next of Kin — third part of the 'Ella Palmer Trilogy' set in a Yorkshire mining village during World War Two — in 1991.  His well-received autobiography In My Own Good Time appeared a decade before his death, aged eighty-three, on 1 August 2011.   

'I have lived by my writing since 1962,' his autobiography concludes.  'I have brought up my children and provided for those it has been my duty to support.  That this has been achieved solely through my own efforts, without subsidy, grants, paid fellowships or awards with monetary gifts attached, should, I feel, be a cause for some pride.  It has all been worked for, year on year.  I have been a professional.  I have survived.'  As will his work which awaits a new generation of readers who are sure to find themselves and their complex and sometimes unfairly compromised lives reflected in its pages. 

 
 
 
 
Use the links below to visit The Literature of Stan Barstow, a website operated by MARTIN BENSON, and read a 2011 article about the writer and his work by journalist ANDREW DARLINGTON:
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

You might also enjoy:

 
 

That Was Then, This Is Now (1971) by SE HINTON

 

 

The Chocolate War (1974) by ROBERT CORMIER

 

 

Poor Cow (1967) by NELL DUNN

 


Thursday, 16 October 2025

Poet of the Month 105: ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER

 


ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER

1825 – 1864 

 

 

 

 

ENVY

 

 

He was the first always: Fortune

    Shone bright in his face.

I fought for years; with no effort

    He conquered the place:

We ran; my feet were all bleeding,

    But he won the race.

 

Spite of his many successes,

    Men loved him the same;

My one pale ray of good fortune

    Met scoffing and blame.

When we erred, they gave him pity,

    But me — only shame.

 

My home was still in the shadow,

    His lay in the sun:

I longed in vain: what he asked for

    It straightway was done.

Once I staked all my heart's treasure,

    We played — and he won. 

 

Yes; and just now I have seen him,

    Cold, smiling, and blest,

Laid in his coffin. God help me!

    While he is at rest,

I am cursed still to live: — even

    Death loved him the best.

 

 

 

Legends and Lyrics

1858

 

 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read about the life and work of British poet and social reformer ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER:

 

 

 

https://minorvictorianwriters.org.uk/procter/index.htm

 

 

 

 

 

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Thursday, 9 October 2025

The Write Advice 223: MARY GORDON

 

It's a bad business, this writing.  No marks on paper can ever measure up to the word's music in the mind, to the purity of the image before its ambush by language.  Most of us awake paraphrasing words from the Book of Common Prayer, horrified by what we have done, what we have left undone, convinced that there is no health in us.  We accomplish what we do, creating a series of stratagems to explode the horror.  Mine involve notebooks and pens.  I write by hand. 

 

'Writers on Writing' [The New York Times, July 1999]

 

 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read about the life and work of North American novelist, memoirist and literary critic MARY GORDON:

 

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mary_Gordon_(writer)

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Thursday, 25 September 2025

Think About It 115: CORNELIA C WALTHER

 

While machines learn to mislead, people are drifting into automation complacency. In healthcare, for instance, clinicians overridden by algorithmic triage tools commit more omission errors (missing obvious red flags) and commission errors (accepting false positives) than those using manual protocols.

      Three forces drive this type of agency decay:

      Path-of-least-resistance psychology. Verifying an AI’s output costs cognitive effort. The busier the decision context, the more tempting it is to click accept and move on.

      Sycophantic language. Large language models are trained to maximize user satisfaction scores, so they often wrap answers in flattering or deferential phrasing — 'great question,' 'your intuition is correct.' 'You are absolutely right.' Politeness lubricates trust, not only in everyday chatting, but also in high-status contexts like executive dashboards or medical charting.

      Illusion of inexhaustible competence. Each incremental success story — from dazzling code completion to flawless radiology reads — nudges us toward overconfidence in the system as a whole. Ironically, that success makes the rare failure harder to spot; when everything usually works, vigilance feels unnecessary.

      The result is a feedback loop: the less we scrutinize outputs, the easier it becomes for a deceptive model to hide in plain sight, further reinforcing our belief that AI has got us covered.

 

'AI Has Started Lying' [Psychology Today, 19 May 2025]

 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read the full article by North American academic CORNELIA C WALTHER PhD:

 

 

https://www.psychologytoday.com/au/blog/harnessing-hybrid-intelligence/202505/ai-has-started-lying

 

 

 

 

 

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Thursday, 18 September 2025

Poet of the Month 104: JOSEPH D'ARBAUD

 

 

 
JOSEPH D'ARBAUD

1874 – 1950

 

 

 

 

 

RÉVERIE D'UN GARDIAN

[MUSINGS OF A HERDSMAN] 

 

 

 

Where are the clear light of the

  dawn and the gallop

Of horses neighing in the wind

  of the morning?

The fire throws onto the shining

  pewter of the dresser

Its soft warmth and the

  reflection of the flame.

 

The cat, asleep on my knees, is

purring;

  Listening to the flutter of the

wind amongst the brands,

  I think of all the fruits that I

have crushed in my mouth,

  I sit thinking of all the paths on

which I have gone astray.

 

My youth has gone as went the

  swallows

When they saw the mists come

  towards them above the sea

And the bowl is cracked and

  the wine is bitter

And in the failing body the soul

  sits solitary.

 

There was a time when in the

  little streets with white walls

Proudly I galloped in the

  midday heat,

Lance in hand the belt

  above the haunches.

 

There was a time when we left 

  the corrals at the break of day.

The girls clustering round the

  doors of the cabins

With their clear laughter wished

  us their good-days.

 

But, grave, rolled in our woollen

  burnouses,

In the breath of the dawn we

  pressed the bulls along

The rising sun shining on their

  horns.

 

Pride of the strong, swelling

  pride of the chieftains,

Thirst of the conqueror swooping

  down on conquered towns…

All these years were ours when we

  galloped before the door.

 

A-gallop, invincible, we swept

  into the arena

And the girls from the balconies

  clapped their hands for us.

 

Then when came evening

  before the calm of the night

Erect in our stirrups we drove

  out of that oval

Pressing before us the panting bulls

 

And the blood of the horses

  bathed our spurs.

 

 

 

 

Exact date of composition unspecified

Published some time between 1918 – 1950

 

 

 

 Translator unknown

but possibly

FORD MADOX FORD 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Use the link below to read more poems (translated into English) by Provençal poet and author JOSEPH D'ARBAUD:

 

 

 

 

https://www.jfbrun.eu/occitanpoetry/occitanpoetry_darbaud.htm 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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