August 25 Round Up
Death row drama to Folsom Prison therapy, red bricked victorian terraced homes, to country houses, ruined Abbeys, gothic piles and September songs - back again for a quick round up of the usual books, music, screen favourites and one last trip to round off the summer.
Books
Still a few Japan related books to review, so got those written and posted. Pico Iyer’s ‘A Beginners guide to Japan’ was a poetic and thought provoking book that explored Japan through silence, stillness, humour and contradiction. Fiction wise, Butter by Asako Yuzuki blends food, feminism and mystery in a work of fiction (but based on a true crime) that was unlike anything else I’ve read this year.
Modern Spiritual classic ‘Awareness’ by Anthony De Mello was full of sharp humour, deep insight, and grounded practicality, whilst The lonely City by Olivia laing - Adventures in the art of being alone - was part memoir, part art criticism, and part meditation on what it means to be lonely in a world built for connection.
More fiction came by the way of Nightshade - Michael Connelly’s new crime series set on Catalina Island, a smart atmospheric crime thriller which I enjoyed on audiobook. Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir was a superior sci fi thriller that blended science, suspense and surprisingly for me, a bit of emotion.
Looking back, a lot of these were books I’d read in July. I met someone in the street yesterday and when they asked if I was reading recently, I shrugged and said not really. By my own standards, I’m not reading as much as I used to in recent years but I still like to have a couple on the go. I’m not as drawn as I once was to literature and ideas - sometimes reading feels like an unnecessary distraction when I’d rather be meditating or watching/listening to other speakers who currently resonate.
But still. There’s a part of me that just has to have a couple of books on the go. Maybe it’s habit, but I still feel the need to lift a book in the evening, if only for ten minutes - but it’s a nice habit, better than some others. I continue to have four on the go, just to suit my mood, so it takes longer to finish as I jump between them.
Travel
Before summers end I thought I’d squeeze in one more trip and made it over to England for a long weekend to see some family. Talking to my cousin beforehand, we decided we’d fit in some literary themed excursions during my stay.
I’ve been a regular enough visitor to England over the years, but mostly to the Midlands area and the occasional London trip, a few other nights here and there. This time it was to Nottinghamshire and Northamptonshire, a bit more rural than what I was used to but that suited me as I’ve had enough of cities for this year.
One of our first stops was to the small former mining town of Eastwood, and the DH Lawrence Birthplace museum. I’d read ‘Sons and Lovers’ for A-level many years ago and my intense bookish teenage self was much taken with the goings on of Paul and Gertrude Morel, Miriam and Clara.
I probably wouldn’t read it again, and I haven’t read any other Lawrence since, but there’s something about that book and author that stuck with me over the years. I think there’s something instinctive and sacred in his work, with so much of his writing rooted in the nature of the area, and the idea of the body as a doorway to vitality.
“My great religion is a belief in the blood, the flesh, as being wiser than the intellect.”
— D.H. Lawrence
This modest red bricked terraced house has been restored to reflect life in the 1880’s when Lawrence was born. We did the guided tour with James, who was quirky and entertaining, with plenty of details of the authors life and family photographs along the way.
It definitely felt like a step back in time, with the victorian parlour, kitchen and scullery, and the upstairs bedrooms with the original or faithfully recreated furniture. It felt like a real slice of social history.
It’s not glamourous or grand, but that’s definitely part of the attraction. You can feel the weight of class, of the ambition and constraint that Lawrence wrote about. I came away feeling I understood a bit more about how a young boy from working class industrial mining town could end up writing about his life in sons and lovers, and never really stopped.
Byron and Newstead Abbey
Next up was a trip to Byron’s ancestral home, Newstead Abbey. Where Lawrences home had a coal streaked realism, Bryons place was more Gothic romance.
Originally a 12th Century Augustinian Priory, it was dissolved by Henry the 8th before being inherited by Lord Byron at the age of ten. Though he never lived here on a permanent basis, the crumbling and semi ruined gothic pile fairly suits the brooding sensibility of the man and you can tell it inspired plenty of his works.
The house is partially restored, with many of the rooms dedicated to the mans poetry and life, which you discover more of as you walk through. I never knew for instance that he kept a pet bear (his college told him he wasn’t allowed a dog - he responded by getting a bear and walking it around campus on a lead, as there were no rules about that).
Really enjoyed exploring the crumbling cloisters and shadowy corners of Newstead Abbey. Plenty of fascinating exhibits and a word too for the National Trust staff, always on hand to answer questions. I don’t think you so much as tour Newstead Abbey, as wander through it. No sign of the black monk, which was the only disappointment.
Also enjoyed our walk around the grounds, though the Japanese might want a word about removing their name from the Japanese Garden. More wild meadow than Zen precision, though it had a certain charm. (Yet another blog post where I’ve managed to shoehorn in another Japanese reference).
Next day was a visit to some family friends in Northamptonshire, where we had a lovely visit to Canons Ashby, a grade 1 listed Elizabethan Manor house. Again built over a fifteenth century priory, this felt like wandering through a mood - wall paintings, Jacobean plasterwork, panelled rooms, servants quarters - just a lovely visit to a place I found to be incredibly still. Wonderful gardens too.
So that’s a brief recap of my quick hop over to England. They really do love their stately homes over there, preserving old stone, manicured lawns and faded tapestries. Walking through these rooms where lives had been quietly lived, the romance of continuity; makes me feel old to think how much I enjoyed it.
Screen
There’s only been one standout show for me recently and that is ‘Rectify’. I’ve been on the lookout for a character led drama recently, and somehow stumbled across it. ‘The leftovers’ is perhaps the only other show I can think off that explores grief in such a powerful way.
‘Rectify’ is similar in that both shows have that rare willingless to show characters that are in agony, and how that pain reshapes families and relationships over time. They’re also both unafraid of silence, of ambiguity, and giving space for emotions to breath.
At the start of ‘Rectify’ we meet Daniel Holden, released from death row after nineteen years when new DNA evidence casts doubts on his conviction. Four seasons, set over a period of about six months in Daniels life allows this world to stay compressed and intimate.
It is concerned about the crime, and what happened on the night a young girl was raped and murdered, but it’s also more about watching Daniel, his family, the town, struggle with what trauma, freedom and belonging really mean. We watch Daniels fragile small steps back in the world again, whilst memories of his time on death row threaten to consume him.
It felt more like a novel at times, with the quiet pacing. I loved the southern setting, the slow summer days, the drawling accents. There’s a small cast and they each are flawed and searching - such contradictions and complicated inner lives.
It never tries to preach or tie up the meaning of life with a nice bow and ribbon. Slow and langourous, I really enjoyed the company of these characters, especially Daniel, wrestling with the mysteries of existence - of grief, redemption, of love, loss and especially forgivness.
It’s not as wonderfully dark and absurdist as The leftovers, though it has it’s flashes of lightness. I also very much needed the cathartic ending, ambigious but offering enough closure.
The Works
I’ve had an interest in Psychology for a number of years. I also have a degree in the subject, from back in the nineties at Queens in Belfast. I have a qualification in counselling and also started (but didn’t finish) a PG in CBT due to covid. I can look back now and see that I was motivated back then by wanting to understand human suffering and healing, both my own and others. My form of seeking has moved into meditation and self enquiry, but it’s still the same path I think - a longing to understand human experience and, at its core, the nature of being.
I’m sure Carl Jung was mentioned in my degree course, but I remember owning a small book as a teenager even before that, possibly ‘The undiscovered self’. So I’ve been familiar with the concept of shadow work for a long time, and it’s something I’ve been doing more and more of, as meditation can bring a lot of emotions forward. Simply defined, shadow work is:
The practice of becoming aware of and integrating the hidden or rejected parts of yourself — the thoughts, feelings, and traits you’ve pushed out of sight because they seemed unacceptable or uncomfortable.
It’s not so much about getting rid of the shadow, but more so bringing it into awareness so you can live with more wholeness, freedom and honesty.
All of which brings me to ‘The Work’ an incredibly powerful documentary set over four days in Folsom State Prison in California in 2017. It follows a small group of civilians and inmates as they participate in an emotionally raw group therapy retreat.
The Program is known as the “Inside Circle” and is run by the Inside Circle Foundation, a nonprofit led by psychologist James McLeary. It had been running successfully in the prison for a number of years before filming was permitted.
The sessions are unfiltered and intense—participants chant, cry, scream, and rage, delving into their traumas and vulnerabilities. The process is about breaking through emotional defences, connecting radically with others in the room, and confronting the sources of personal pain.
By the end, the documentary captures a transformation—not just for the incarcerated men, but also for the civilians. The film strips away clichés about rehabilitation, replacing them with a raw, transformative portrait of human courage and connection.
Definitely worth chasing this down for a watch - I was able to purchase it via youtube.
Music
Been rediscovering music this last while, thanks in part to the excellant John Kelly and his mystery train radio show on Lyric FM. Lovely eclectic mix that’s sent me down a few rabbit holes, and revisiting old favourites.
I’m going to use eceltic again, as it’s the best word to describe it, but it’s wonderfully curated and adventurous - jazz, world music, New Irish artists, contemporary beats, rock and indie; just never know what you’re going to get. I’ve discovered so much new music through it, and I love how that works - I end up seaching an artist and listening around them, joining the dots to other genres.
Anyway, it’s September, and it feels like the first properly blustery Autumn day. As Sarah Vaughan’s liquid gold voice sings,
But the days grow short
When you reach September
And the autumn weather
Turns the leaves to flame
Until next time, may you be happy, may you be well, may you be free from suffering.