In search of Finnishness

It's the same news where ever you are...

On 23th April Hufvudstadsbladet in Helsinki wrote about a social worker, who'd been charged with murder. She was still listed on the Finnish social services register while in court defending the charge. It seems bureaucrats are equally incompetent here too.

There was also a story about large pension payments agreed to former directors of partly state-owned companies. These firms had made large losses, yet the directors left with massive pay-outs. Sounds familiar?

In other news, a social services chief in Helsinki spent just under 72,000 Euro refurbishing his office...a basket of food costs 38 Euros less in Sweden that it does in Finland...Susan Boyle You Tube video clip is watched by 100 million people.

News is international, I get that. But then I see X Factor, Finland Has Talent, Dragon's Den, as well as several imported British, American and Spanish soaps on TV. Just as I was beginning to despair, my friend turned her car radio on and out blared Finnish music. Tango, humppa and modern hits, all sang in the consonant laden language that to me never should be used in song. But it was at least truly Finnish, truly original. Long live the Finnish lyricists.

During the visit I was asked what the differences between life in the UK and Finland were. I was stunned I couldn't name one. As my host continued to gaze at me, waiting for my response, I said, 'People. There are so many people in the UK.' I considered the question for a moment longer while my host waited patiently. 'And...no-one ever says what they truly mean.'

'Hmm,' he said and picked up a newly barbecued piece of pork.

'To be impolite is considered the biggest crime in Britain.'

He lifted his eyes towards me, 'I guess we Finns can be viewed as a little abrupt sometimes?'

'But there are bigger crimes than being impolite. Such as being dishonest,' I said.

He nodded. We'd got to the crunch of the matter. This is how Finns and Englishmen differ.

The London Book Fair

Is it wise and useful to flaunt yourself and your (unpublished) work in places like the LBF? Sometimes it feels like swimming in treacle, all the things one should and shouldn't do to get to that aah so wonderful goal of being in print. The net is full of blogs on the subject. Some are useful. I have put together a personal guide.

How To Get Published:

1. Keep writing
2. Use every opportunity to promote yourself
3. Be modest (but see no 2 above)
4. Be nice
5. Be patient (hardest and most important)
6. Enter every competition on this earth
7. Do your research and stick to it when approaching agents/publishers (horses for courses)
8. Don't forget to write
9. Read everything published in your chosen genre
10. Write

Someone told me I should wear something memorable when attending the LBF How to Get Published Masterclass. Better add that to the list...

Easter and Jamie's Italian

A lovely family Easter. Teenage daughter and grown up son at home, winding each other up at scrabble. They cooked too, son made stock and daughter desserts. I overdid the gardening and only wanted a hot sauna and a cold beer followed by the Masters on TV.

After a lunch of chicken, salad and couscous and a couple of glasses of wine on Monday I was talked into driving son back to Oxford the next day.

Oxford was sunny and warm and after looking around a few colleges we had lunch at Jamie's Italian, which I'm sorry to say wasn't so good. The staff seemed to be working for UNESCO. Tables were left empty while people waited in the bar. I expected a riot as all those queuing up could see the vacant places. At half past twelve they'd run out of several items on the menu. Our salad had to be requested twice. The loos downstairs smelt of drains. Daughter said perhaps they'd imported the smell from Italy for authenticity. Our waitress got sniffy when we queried the sense in so called local sourcing of water from Wales, rather than Italian water. The food was OK. My truffle pasta had no visible shavings of the scarce fungi in it, but the taste was there. Other meals were good I was told, but then I sensed a reluctance to complain after the water debacle with the by now determinedly chilly waitress. I've had excellent meals at Jamie's in Bath, so this was disappointing.

What did I expect, said son who calls Jamie 'That twat from telly'.

The Lost Daughter and the lost words

After the friendly and positive meeting of similar minded writers in Bath on Monday night and the excellent crit on the second chapter of the sequel to The Red King of Helsinki, I'm now stuck. Yesterday I did edits and revisions on chapter two of The Lost Daughter, according to the very useful and constructive suggestions by my fellow writers. I then finished chapter three, but now cannot get any further. I've tried to write all day and only managed a measly 350 words. Hanna is alone in her bed-sit in Reading. Someone help me get her out of there!

Perhaps going to the London Book Fair week after next will motivate me. After the McKee course in script writing I wrote for weeks without a break. In the meantime I need to keep up with the one thousand words per day -schedule, or I'll lose the plot. (Ha, ha)

Why is blogging so much easier? Must unplug broadband and strap myself onto writing chair.

Sun and short skirts in Notting Hill

Is it illegal to cover your partner’s eyes when he’s driving? Even if he is showing far too much interest in young female legs in short skirts? One young thing, bouncing along the pavement at about the same pace as we were proceeding in the Saturday morning traffic, wore a wide skirt, which suddenly billowed and revealed her knickers. ‘Large, white M&S ones,’ he said. Should I have been glad that at least she wasn’t wearing a leopard print thong?

London was showing its best face at the weekend. Hyde Park was filled with families and friends lolling about on the grass, or running about after a ball or a dog. The joggers, who are there whatever the weather, looked at the scene with some irritation. The clear run of a cold March morning had turned into an obstacle course of children and clumsy teenagers. But I was with the sun worshippers, in spite of the interest the partner showed in the pretty girls. I in turn had my visual fill of bare chested youngsters throwing things at each other.

We were both glad to just be spectators in a slow moving car. We were suffering from the night before, a ceremonial dinner at Mansion House, followed by a very late night at Shoreditch House. I have less recollection of what happened at the latter than I do of the former. All I can remember is that liquorice vodka featured somewhere at Shoreditch. I am assured by those present I had a good time.

Håkan Nesser in London

I was very kindly invited to hear the Swedish crime writer, Håkan Nesser, speak at the Swedish Church in Marylebone last night. I've been a fan of Nesser for years, so I was acting like a little girl with a crush on a teacher when I spotted him on arrival at the church hall.

I'd insisted that my friend and I got there at least half an hour before the start. As the famous author graciously signed my books, I tried to tell him my life story. I mentioned we'd come early to get a good seat. The place was yet empty. My friend hid behind my back, but she was a good sport and didn't even laugh when I couldn't resist asking the man several questions after his talk. The hall did fill, and when Nesser delivered his funny and informative talk, it was full.

As I want my Babington book club to read Nesser, I asked him when more of his books were going to be published in English. 'One per year is what they've decided. They'll carry on way past my time on earth,' he said with a glint in his eye. He's written 21 books and does not look like stopping.

The first one to come out in English, which I bought there and then (and had it signed and dedicated to me, bliss of blisses), is called 'Mind's Eye'. It's the first in the Detective Chief Inspector Van Veeteren series. Others to look out are 'Borkman's Point' and 'The Return'. 'Woman with Birthmark' will come out in English on 1 May.

I have to admit I enjoy his latter books with the charismatic Detective Barbarotti more. But all of his books have a sense that the crime and the detective work is an afterthought in the storytelling. They are not conventional detective novels. But then what is ordinary or conventional? I think this is exactly the point.

The language Mr Nesser uses is extraordinary, it's economical, with every sentence and word carefully placed. One wouldn't associate his expressions with this genre. To add to the mysterious and abstract feel of the novels, he often makes up place names, names of characters as well as flora and fauna.

To cap the evening we found that the great man now lives in London. No, I'm not going to start to stalk him. Promise.