Guest review by Graeme Fife: STILL - a mindful practice for photographers, by Paul Sanders

 

"Superb account of a mind near broken and repaired, through the curative hard task of art and creativity ... "

Graeme Fife is a regular reviewer here. He has written many plays, stories, features and talks for radio, stage plays and articles for newspapers and magazines, and is a regular contributor to BBC Radio 4's From Our Own Correspondent. He's the author of a string of books - children's stories, biography, works of history and fiction. His novel of the French Revolution, No Common Assassin, tells the story of Charlotte Corday. His new novel, Memory's Ransom, a compelling wartime story, is published by Conrad Press.

‘Art is deliberate, peremptory, love and arrogance' - Seamus Heaney

‘I have been to Hell and back, and let me tell you, it was wonderful.’ - Louise Bourgeois

Sanders might well echo what Bourgeois said. Under extreme pressure as a working photo journalist, latterly Pictures Editor of The Times and having to review up to 50,000 images a day in order to choose which to use in the paper, he had a nervous breakdown which led to severe depression and once to the very brink of self-destruction. What ghosts patrol those precipitous cliffs above the sea, whispering their sinister insinuative urgings to the desolate individual, what sinuous provocations and what moral strength to bid them hush. This mental turmoil he describes without compunction but neither is he mawkish. I find what he writes and how he writes very moving not least because somehow he hauled himself back from the edge of this doom and, by the help of his love of photography, with him since childhood, he restored his mental and emotional balance. That in itself is inspiring and this book, featuring a goodly selection of his photographs, contains one image, the first he took after his recovery, which offers a summation of his feelings in sharp terms: a broken post sticking out of the sea, stark black, broad, lone splinter of wood against a hazy white ground. The story that tells is eloquent, I feel, and the very best photography – and examples of it abound, here – tells a story. Photography: in Greek ‘writing with light’.

Citing Cartier-Bresson, who said that we do not take photographs - photographs take us, they are a gift, from who knows where? - Sanders also confronts the grim truth that ‘the battle we have within ourselves is a bloody and unforgiving war’. I am reviewing this book, not only because I find the images it contains arresting but because as a journal of recovery and even redemption from that inner war it is so very compelling and also because Sanders writes in limpid, direct prose of beautiful insight and gives me, as a writer, a parallel to the similar struggles we have with words as he does with light, framing, composition, subject … how to do it, where to stand and at what height, even, how to approach our work ...

Just as we, maybe highly articulate from early on, nevertheless had to learn that whereas words make good servants they are very poor masters, so picking up a camera and pointing it, clicking the shutter, is meaningless, unless there is feeling in the person holding the camera or writing the words, above all sensibility.

The book’s secondary, but to Sanders crucial purpose, the core of his freelance work, after all, is to offer counsel to those who love the camera and are looking to find better ways of expressing themselves through what its obedient lens looks at. Teaching and guiding those eager to learn how to make the camera work for them, through them, is what rescued him financially and spiritually, and the story of how he achieved that is a valuable lesson to each of us, in my view.

There is wisdom here, in the way that Sanders has looked unflinchingly inside himself and his art and brought the two analyses together and I commend it for that reason alone, whether you ascribe to the idea of mindfulness or not. At heart, doesn’t that simply amount, for us all, the vital need in everything we do, see hear, experience, to pay attention, to replace ‘should’ with ‘could’ and see what difference that makes? I think so and however we make it to that decision, the path will have been a good path to tread.

He also emphasises the fact that there is never a perfect answer, never a wholesale solution … at bottom we all flounder, one way or another, and in that floundering, we do, or should do, the difficult thing: we ask questions, of ourself or others, of what we are looking at or thinking about. Out of the comfort zone? You had better believe it, nothing ever got done in the comfort zone. King George III, visiting the royal naval dockyard at Chatham, observed a man standing outside an open air woodshed, staring at the timber baulks on the racks. The king asked a staff member why the man wasn’t doing any work and the man said that he was working, he was assessing the timber for size, by eye. Sanders has a good eye and this book gives a precious opportunity to see and appreciate, feel the worth of, the beauty round us, even in the lonely bullrush and a patch of grass, through that eye.

So much of what Sanders says, both in this superb account of a mind near broken and repaired, through the curative hard task of art and creativity, resonates with me and, as I put it somewhere: ‘There is never a full stop, only ever a hanging comma on which we sit, as on a swing in a secret garden.’

Still is published by Ilex Press.

More of Graeme's choices:

The Mighty Dead - Why Homer Matters, also by Adam Nicolson

The Narrow Road to the Deep North by Richard Flanagan

The Go-Between by L P Hartley

SUMMER ROUND-UP by Adèle, Celia and Linda

Adèle, Celia and Linda give their latest recommendations.

Linda's choices:

Rough Patch by Kathy Slack is a memoir of breakdown and recovery. We're accustomed to the idea that being outside in natural surroundings is beneficial to our wellbeing; in Kathy's case the cure came, specifically, through vegetable growing. Severe depression led to the abandonment of a demanding but unrewarding career in advertising and a retreat to her Cotswolds home. She frequently acknowledges her privilege - loving husband, beautiful house, 'enough money not to worry about money' - yet none of these assets provided a defence against debilitating depression. Dismissing the 'woo' of abstract concepts like gratitude and blessings, she felt her recovery begin with the scattering of seeds, their germination and the resulting harvest. 'I've been unable to do virtually anything for myself ... And here I am now, with a lettuce of my very own.' An engaging read, written with warmth and humour - and there are recipes, too, based on what the garden produces.

Still - a mindful practice for photographers by Paul Sanders is the next book I read, which as it happens is also by an author who held a high-profile job (photography editor for The Times) before experiencing breakdown and recovery. For Paul Sanders, salvation came through photography - and from a particular kind of photography, focusing not so much on the technical side as on the mindfulness of looking, seeing and appreciating. Beautifully produced, Still is illustrated throughout, mainly in black and white but occasionally in colour, with images which will encourage you to go out with your camera, not to 'snap' or 'capture' but to see which images offer themselves to you. Reviewer Graeme Fife has written a fuller appreciation of this book, which will appear soon.

The Angel of St Piran by John Ironmonger: When does ‘conservation’ mask animal exploitation? That question is at the heart of this thrilling novel, set in Tanzania. Young researcher Angel, who lives among wild chimpanzees on a forested island, must fight for the animals’ survival and her own against an organisation that provides wealthy hunters with opportunities to kill. Many of us, revolted by images of hunters posing proudly with their victims, are familiar with the argument that controlled ‘trophy hunting’ can benefit wild animal populations and habitats. There’s no doubting which side John Ironmonger is on; readers will be rooting for Angel and her chimpanzee companions against the pitiless invaders as the situation becomes ever more dangerous. Partly inspired by the work of the great Jane Goodall, the novel explores animal communication and how much we can learn from wild creatures when we’re willing to listen. This was my introduction to an author with a thorough knowledge and passionate feeling for animal issues; I’m now eager to read his earlier novel, The Wager and the Bear. (Note: The Angel of St Piran will be published in September - I read an advance proof.)

Celia's choices:

Keeping The World Away by Margaret Forster: I recently went to a wonderful Gwen John Exhibition at Cardiff Museum and Art Gallery. I was with my Book Club and we were celebrating thirty years of reading and meeting. The book choice was Margaret Forster’s Keeping The World Away. The novel is based on a depiction of a corner of Gwen John’s attic room in Paris. The painting is small, like much of Gwen John’s work and very simple, the light coming through a window onto a plain wooden table which holds a bunch of primroses. The only hint of a human presence is an empty wicker chair, a discarded coat and a parasol but the paintings speak volumes about the woman who painted it.
Gwen John painted several versions of this scene, all slightly different. The novel begins with the artist herself and her life in Paris. She gifts one of these paintings, unsigned, to a friend. The friend loses it, something she regrets for the rest of her life. The painting is restless. Lost, stolen, mislaid, sold, finally bequeathed, it passes from one woman to another. Each woman falls under the painting’s indefinable spell and finds something that speaks to her own need for calm, quiet, solace, a life of one’s own. Forster weaves their very different stories into a complex narrative that spans much of the twentieth century. Ultimately, the novel is a love letter to a painter and her painting. I really admired the novel and it was a very special experience to have it fresh in my mind as I stood in front of A Corner of the Artist’s Room in Paris.

Is A River Alive? by Robert Macfarlane: The answer to the question posed by the title of Robert Macfarlane’s book is an unequivocal Yes, they are very much alive, should have Rights like other living beings and should be protected as, ultimately, all life depends on them. He takes us with him on three expeditions to rivers in very different parts of the world. The Cloud-forest of Ecuador, a unique environment with astonishing biodiversity, where the rivers are threatened by god mining. Southern India where the rivers are already horribly polluted and dying and the Magpie River in North-eastern Quebec, a magnificent, wild river threatened by damming to produce hydroelectricity. In each place he links up with activists, often Native people, to whom the rivers are alive, have always been alive and who are fighting to save them and all the life that depends on them. Macfarlane is a writer who combines the vivid excitement of the best travel writing with a wide and erudite knowledge of the natural world. His writing is passionately felt, very radical but also profoundly philosophical and deeply spiritual. He brings the book home, literally, to a fragile wellspring in the chalk lands near his home, which is threatened on all sides by building development and he finds hope in its ability to flow anew. He reminds us of our own reverence for rivers and water, remembered in the names of our rivers, the Severn, the Thames and the Dee.

Purple Citrus & Sweet Perfume by Silvena Rowe: like Adèle, I love a cookery book. So much so, that my latest novel. Miss Graham's Cold War Cookbook (later re-titled Miss Graham's War), has a cookery book at the heart of the narrative (the clue is in the original title). I first saw Purple Citrus & Sweet Perfume in my local artisanal baker and coffee shop. I couldn't resist the beautiful cover or the equally beautiful title. I immediately picked it up and was entranced by page after page of fascinating Eastern Mediterranean recipes and lovely illustrations. Part cookery, part history, part travelogue, part memoir, it's my favourite kind of cookery book. Silvena Rowe is of Bulgarian Turkish heritage and her book explores the culinary legacy of the Ottoman Empire which extended from Hungary to the Persian Gulf, into Egypt and North Africa. The Ottomans controlled the Spice Road, their vast empire encompassed many different peoples and their culinary traditions. Silvena Rowe focuses for the main part on the Eastern Mediterranean. Through her recipes, she takes us from Istanbul to Syria, Jordan, the Lebanon, into the Balkans and across to Damascus. She follows in the footsteps of the great Ottoman chefs, who came from every corner of the Empire and gives a modern twist to their recipes. Her book is a celebration of one of the great cuisines of the world.     

Adèle's choices:

Wolves Eat Dogs  by Martin Cruz Smith: does anyone remember a wonderful thriller called Gorky Park? It was published in 1981 and was a huge hit. In it, we were introduced to a Moscow detective called Arkady Renko. I loved it, but somehow never kept up with  the other books in the 11 book series. I watched the movie in 1983 and enjoyed that too  but not as much as the book. 

I was persuaded to download Wolves Eat Dogs by one of those 99p Kindle offers from Amazon. (An aside: I think these offers are a Public Good for readers in these straitened times and I've since downloaded four more.) So I'm working my way through the Renko novels but this one is particularly fascinating. It's set in the Black Zone around Chernobyl and the town of Pripyat and is absolutely gripping, terrifying and full of extraordinary characters. The shadow of the accident hangs like a dark cloud over everything. It's haunting and beautifully written. Arkady is a wonderful creation and I think new readers will enjoy reading about him. I also loved the running gag about how 'Chernobyl' is actually  pronounced  'Chornobyl' in Ukrainian ... of course it's still in Ukraine now and that's a worrying fact in the present circumstances. 

More Home Cooking: A writer returns to the kitchen by Laurie Colvin: I have a thing about Laurie Colvin. This time last year in our round up, I wrote about a novel of hers called A Big Storm Knocked it Over.

This year, I'm writing about this non-fiction book. There's also, obviously, a book called Home Cooking and that's terrific too, but I've read this one most recently.

Laurie Colwin died much too young  and is not nearly well enough known. These days, we're all  used to Substack, in which writers can  reach readers and speak to them directly about their chosen subject. In Colwin's case, we're invited itno her house and more particularly her kitchen. We get glimpses into her daily life and share recipes grouped not chronologically nor alphabetically but by category. These seem totally random. How about American Corn, followed by Jam Anxiety, followed by Three Chocolate Cakes? 

Each new subject gives us recipes embedded in a kind of short story that allows us delighful glimpses into her life. I can't think of a book I own that's more comforting and life enhancing. It arouses many emotions in me, not least a great sadness that she didn't live long enough to write more books. 

I am Pilgrim  by Terry Hayes: at the very end of June, I travelled from Northern Italy to London by train. I needed, therefore, à la Gwendolyn in The Importance of Being Earnest, "something sensational" to read. This novel has been on my Kindle for many years but I had, I confess, forgotten all about it. That happens with a Kindle when you don't see the spines of books on your shelves.  It had been recommended by someone in one of the round ups of Holiday Reading choices in the newspapers. 

And what a good choice I made! It's far too long and probably could have had several large chunks cut out of it to some advantage but goodness me, what a hair-raising ride! Breathless, and thrilling and proceeding a a breakneck speed, it nevertheless has time to develop characters in impressive depth.  Pilgrim is our hero, fighting for Good against a terribly evil enemy and you root for him the whole way. It's a souped-up spy thriller, really, and that's not my usual kind of book, but it's so brilliantly done and takes you to such fascinating parts of the world along the way that you give yourself up quite happily to the thrill of the narrative. I’d recommend reading it on Kindle if possible … at over 600 pages long, the paperback version will add a lot of weight to your tote bag or suitcase.

Happy summer reading to all!