Unreliable Narrators, Diddy Cheese, and Frigging Heat...

Last week, three people gave me the same response. When I said, 'God, this frigging heat!' (or words to that effect) they said, 'Ah yes, but we moan when it's cold, don't we.' I'd like to put it on record, here and now, I NEVER moan when it's cold. Never, ever, ever. Bring on the rain, bring on the wind, bring on the sleety grey, miserable days. I LOVE them. Anyway. As you were.

Writing News

I've just read Verity by Colleen Hoover. Here's my bash at a blurb. 

Prior to the car crash that left her in a coma, Verity Crawford wrote a draft of her autobiography, hiding it and telling no one. Finding it one day, Lowen Ashleigh can't help but read. Will it give the insights into Verity that have so far eluded her? Will it answer the questions that linger? Will it upend all she knows to be true? 

How's that? I reckon I had a good bash in a vague way. But whether it's whet your appetite for the book, or just made you think, 'Get on with it Nicky,' it did one other job. It reminded you of the trope of the Unreliable Narrator. Don't say it didn't. Learning about the story and characters through another character (or their autobiography) won't always be accurate. And Unreliable Narrators are riddled throughout literature. In Wuthering Heights, gossipy housekeeper, Nelly Dean, is the source of information for newcomer, Mr Lockwood, and therefore, the reader. Is she embellishing? Putting her own spin on events? Does she know what she's talking about when she wasn't in the room for all she shares? Who knows. Is Adrian Mole a reliable narrator for his 13 and 3/4 year old experiences? The reader needs to read between the lines at what he doesn't say, to realise his Mum is unhappy and his dad is oblivious. Can Leeza McAuliffe give a true account of her own family's lives from her eye-rolling, fed up perception of them? Is she our best guide for the story of the McAuliffe family? Possibly not, no. But isn't that the fun bit? The Unreliable Narrator forces the reader to decide what snippets, if any, are reliable. The rest of their narration - the factually dodgy parts - tell us more about their character, motivation, and flaws. Unreliable Narrators can be loads of fun to decipher, or - conversely - irritating as hell. I just hadn't clocked I was writing one. 

In the Heights. I'm off to roam the 
streets looking for a hydrant.

Culture

If I spend two hours reading, does that automatically make it a cultural experience? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? I spent Thursday morning reading the report by the Privileges Committee into whether Boris Johnson misled Parliament. Spoiler Alert: He did. And whilst it may not have been as much of a page-turner as Verity , it managed to quell the rage. A bit. In wildly differing Cultural News, I leant into the heat and humidity, and rewatched In The Heights while I stewed on the couch. Washington Heights or Merseyside? Either way, the sweat is real.  

Food and Drink

I'm drinking water. So much water. Mainly because for the second I swallow a mouthful, my hayfevery throat eases. I simply need to drink water every waking second and I'm fine. Also, I found these cheeses in Marks and Spencers and decided they were the cutest thing I've ever seen. The 50p is for scale. They're diddy.

Coping.

Out and About

I'm far too lethargic to gad about on adventures. But despite the heat, I managed to make it to Wednesday brunch, and my writing group. The rest of the time, I avoided pollen and sat by a fan. Oh, I had to go to the Post Office, Sainsburys, and co-host a Father's Day get-together too. See, loads of outings last week.

If this is your season, knock yourself out. (No, literally, please do. I can't stand your positive outlook.) I hope you're getting all the Vitamin D you need without forgetting to Factor 50 up to the gills. For the rest of us - the hay fever suffering, sticky, brain-fogged, heat-exhausted rest of us - let's do our best. Keep nasal-spraying and eye-dropping and staying away from the bad stuff. It will pass. 

Have a lovely week, folks