After the events I shared in A Fall in Time, I started working on a novel, which then turned into another novel, then a third. I worked hard at these, working even harder at my craft. I thought I was a decent writer then but, as this story grew in scope and meaning, I realised I needed to be a much, much better writer.
Deep secrets, coastlines and liminal spaces. Great stuff. I like that opening paragraph. And I wonder whether coasts and islands have bred more than their fair share of writers and artists?
Thank you so much, Simon! I'm really happy you liked the opening paragraph too, that is a high endorsement in my book (of my book?!).
I think you might be right, there is something about the light, about the everchanging nature of coasts and, especially, islands. I miss The Island Review--that had so many excellent pieces, some of which I would love to read again. I was really sad when I realised it was no longer available to read.
Palimpsest is such a wonderful word, one of my favourites, the way it rolls around the mouth as it emerges. Love that you extended it even further, lol.
I read David Gange’s book earlier this year. I particularly enjoyed those parts where I am familiar with the landscape; although not with the gaze from sea to shore that he describes. It’ll be worth the wait.
It's definitely a favourite of mine, too! I remember first encountering it in relation to Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose, then it came up again (a lot) during lectures, seminars, tutorials etc regarding landscape archaeology. Still love it now.
That is very true--when I returned to my shelter, or what was left of it, in 2018, we took a kayak, which made every rock, cliff, tree, burn, and plant seem fresh and new, seen from an angle opposite to that I had observed for so long. I loved that--and can't wait to do more of the same, one day.
Your description is so vivid I can see, hear and smell that coast. That's how I always picture a coast, though I've never experienced one like that. I live far from any but a lakeshore. I've seen a bit of both Atlantic and Pacific, but not when they were wild and boisterous. And I've visited the relatively tranquil beaches of Hawaii, where the waves rolling in hold an echo of immense power held back for the moment. It's funny how the sea seems to call to everyone, no matter where they were born. Perhaps it's a memory of our earliest beginnings.
Thanks! The sea really does call, doesn't it? I love that.
I remember walking along clifftops in Orkney after storms and seeing boulders the size of cars which had been tossed up by the waves. It is a remarkable power, wild, as you say. One day, I very much look forward to experiencing the Pacific, I would love to sail around the islands, that's definitely on the List (which isn't really a list, just some thoughts!).
Coastline: I think of salty wind, gritty sand, convoluted cliffsides and windswept cypresses and clinging succulents, filtering silvered sunlight and the frothy roar of the waves. Northern California, where I grew up, in other words.
Also losing my red hat outside the Monterey Bay Aquarium when I was about 4 and watching a staff member sidle along the sea wall to retrieve it for me.
I love both of these comments, especially the memory of your errant hat! Northern California is one of those places I'd love to visit. I have a great joy of visiting new coastlines, seeing and scenting the familiar, whilst also learning all the many variations and differences to those I've already met. My first exposure to a different ocean was in South Africa, where 'my' ocean, the Atlantic, met another. This seemed fitting in a way. I've yet to meet the Pacific, however.
Deep secrets, coastlines and liminal spaces. Great stuff. I like that opening paragraph. And I wonder whether coasts and islands have bred more than their fair share of writers and artists?
Thank you so much, Simon! I'm really happy you liked the opening paragraph too, that is a high endorsement in my book (of my book?!).
I think you might be right, there is something about the light, about the everchanging nature of coasts and, especially, islands. I miss The Island Review--that had so many excellent pieces, some of which I would love to read again. I was really sad when I realised it was no longer available to read.
Palimpsest is such a wonderful word, one of my favourites, the way it rolls around the mouth as it emerges. Love that you extended it even further, lol.
I read David Gange’s book earlier this year. I particularly enjoyed those parts where I am familiar with the landscape; although not with the gaze from sea to shore that he describes. It’ll be worth the wait.
It's definitely a favourite of mine, too! I remember first encountering it in relation to Umberto Eco's The Name of the Rose, then it came up again (a lot) during lectures, seminars, tutorials etc regarding landscape archaeology. Still love it now.
That is very true--when I returned to my shelter, or what was left of it, in 2018, we took a kayak, which made every rock, cliff, tree, burn, and plant seem fresh and new, seen from an angle opposite to that I had observed for so long. I loved that--and can't wait to do more of the same, one day.
Your description is so vivid I can see, hear and smell that coast. That's how I always picture a coast, though I've never experienced one like that. I live far from any but a lakeshore. I've seen a bit of both Atlantic and Pacific, but not when they were wild and boisterous. And I've visited the relatively tranquil beaches of Hawaii, where the waves rolling in hold an echo of immense power held back for the moment. It's funny how the sea seems to call to everyone, no matter where they were born. Perhaps it's a memory of our earliest beginnings.
Thanks! The sea really does call, doesn't it? I love that.
I remember walking along clifftops in Orkney after storms and seeing boulders the size of cars which had been tossed up by the waves. It is a remarkable power, wild, as you say. One day, I very much look forward to experiencing the Pacific, I would love to sail around the islands, that's definitely on the List (which isn't really a list, just some thoughts!).
Coastline: I think of salty wind, gritty sand, convoluted cliffsides and windswept cypresses and clinging succulents, filtering silvered sunlight and the frothy roar of the waves. Northern California, where I grew up, in other words.
Also losing my red hat outside the Monterey Bay Aquarium when I was about 4 and watching a staff member sidle along the sea wall to retrieve it for me.
I love both of these comments, especially the memory of your errant hat! Northern California is one of those places I'd love to visit. I have a great joy of visiting new coastlines, seeing and scenting the familiar, whilst also learning all the many variations and differences to those I've already met. My first exposure to a different ocean was in South Africa, where 'my' ocean, the Atlantic, met another. This seemed fitting in a way. I've yet to meet the Pacific, however.