The next Unsung Letter is heading out to subscribers:
Léger’s prose is imbued with the atmosphere that characterises Loden’s film – the sense of loneliness, outsider status, the feelings of a woman who has become a spectator of her own life that has spiralled out of control.
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Just a moment ago, my copies of Flesh of the Peach arrived, bringing with them a sleety snowfall against the windows.
I’m overwhelmed by how pretty this thing is. the cover is scuffed, doodle-y, but that’s all part of the book itself. Ah! You could, if you were so inclined, pre-order the book directly from Freight right now. The launch will take place on the 25th of April, at Blackwell’s Bookshop on South Bridge in Edinburgh (I will be making up a Facebook invitation nearer the time) at which there will be wine and possibly snacks (and definitely both at the afterparty).
I’m in the process of arranging readings for the book elsewhere, and have some big ones to announce (again, a little nearer their dates). Copies of the novel are going out for review. You can add the book to your Goodreads TBR.
If you’d like to hear me read anywhere, and have suggestions, please get in touch. I’m about on Twitter, trying not to let my heart fly out of my chest.
The fourth Unsung Letter is now out to subscribers. This week it was written by Andrew Male:
Davidson is attune to the specific emotional poetry of his world; dark afternoons, slow evenings, lucent midnights, and that that eerie border territory between the harvest and the back end of the year, where distances grow deeper and a deceptive autumnal sunlight illuminates banal frosted landscapes with an hallucinatory brightness.
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In other, non-letter news, this year continues. This year, a whirlwind, both in the political sphere (of which I need not tell you) and personally. D and I came back from Christmas in America, strove through January ( which is as everyone knows one of the months we should just spend in hibernation like Moomins) flathunting and dealing with travails and the bitter cold. This past week we went on a long-ago holiday to Athens:
then on the way back I fainted on the plane and later in the queue for border control and had to be pushed through the airport in a wheelchair. I’m fine now – it was food poisoning meeting exhaustion, we think – and after a day in bed, it was moving day. I’m writing this in our new rental flat, in a pale blue-green room that makes me think of the sea. Nothing is particularly well organised at the moment, but outside there is a tiny garden with a bench and a greenhouse. I’m going to put up a bird feeder and sit out with a book when it’s not so raw.
Soon, quite soon, my debut novel Flesh of the Peach comes out. I had word today that my 6 copies are being sent to me today. Ah! There’s a book launch to come and I’ll make an announcement about that very shortly. I’ve to organise contact with several bookshops who might be amenable to my reading there. It all seems so far off from now. In April it will be Spring, even here in Scotland. Not warm really, but there will be flowers out, and more birds, and the world opening up its shutters, wincing and taking deep breaths.
For now though, the work.
The latest tinyletter of book recommendations for the underpraised has now gone round. This week it’s poet and writer Claire Askew writing her love of a particular Edinburgh-based poet. If you haven’t yet subscribed, you can do so >>>>>here<<<<<
Some words of mine recommending a lovely, under-publicised place in Scotland are in the Herald, alongside a few others.
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Just to let you know, the next Unsung Letter is out, and it’s by A.D. Devers. You can sign up here, if you haven’t already done so. More to come in the next weeks!