![]() ![]() In Unwell Women, Elinor Cleghorn traces the almost unbelievable history of how medicine has failed women by treating their bodies as alien and other, often to perilous effect. As Elinor learned to live with her unpredictable disease she turned to history for answers, and found an enraging legacy of suffering, mystification, and misdiagnosis. She was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease after a long period of being told her symptoms were anything from psychosomatic to a possible pregnancy. Elinor Cleghorn became an unwell woman ten years ago. ![]() Descripción: A trailblazing, conversation-starting history of women’s health-from the earliest medical ideas about women’s illnesses to hormones and autoimmune diseases-brought together in a fascinating sweeping narrative. ![]()
0 Comments
![]() ![]() Jemma features in practically all of my books and yet I have never written her story. Lizzie is the crafting expert and Jemma is the baking queen. ![]() She runs The Cherry Tree Café in Wynbridge in partnership with her best friend Lizzie Dixon. If you could turn into one of your characters for a day, which one would it be and why, what would you do? My fifth book, Sleigh Rides and Silver Bells became a Sunday Times Bestseller – the pinnacle of my writing career so far! I’ve had eight books published in the last four years and my Christmas book for this year, The Christmas Wish List, will be out in October. The more commonly known description – women’s commercial fiction – isn’t always accurate as I know some pretty burly truck drivers who are more than happy to settle down with my books after a long day of driving! I write commercial fiction for Simon and Schuster. My name is Heidi Swain and I live in the pretty county of Norfolk just a few miles south of the fine city of Norwich. Today we welcome Heidi Swain as we travel to Norfolk county to discover how a Sunday Times Bestseller, having a structured day, gardening, and Wind in the Willows integrate into Heidi’s to-do list. ![]() ![]() Most of the gore has dried, even that clinging to the palms of my hands. Now I am scrunching a bloodied gown and gloves into a ball and pushing them as far beneath my other belongings as they will go. She was not talking just about the dress. Mother and I sewed a new dress and I donned it carefully, standing stiff to prevent the material from creasing. My fond hopes that this time I would have some luck. It pains me to recall how happy I was when I secured the position of Lady Rose’s maid. ![]() ![]() Its grizzled landlady will not allow me the use of a chamber unless I pay for the entire night, so instead I crouch behind the cover of a nearby bush and attempt to change my costume in the poor light. The Falmouth coaching inn reeks of stale beer and tooth rot. It is nearly four o’clock in the morning. ![]() ![]() ![]() What is he or she? A weight-loss saboteur. Your boyfriend-or father-mother-best friend-or husband-applauds your weight loss one moment, and the next brings you a ten-layer chocolate cake to celebrate your success. ![]() “Morton’s is great, so are Jar and Spago.” “Yes, well keep enjoying yourself.” He walks ahead, then suddenly turns and calls out. See you at work in another week and a half, Bill.” “A loaner.” I have to admit I’m enjoying his incredulity. We stroll down the street, and I stop in front of the car. Or we could stop for some decadent dessert, how about it?” “We’re different stock, you know?” Are his eyes getting moist? “I miss the city,” I say, realizing that I mean it. “Nice for a week,” he says, then lowers his voice conspiratorially, adding, “but I wouldn’t want to live here, would you?” “How are you doing out here?” Wharton asks, narrowing his eyes. “Got a gift certificate to Giorgio’s with my last purchase of Red.” “And who’s paying for your shopping?” he says, noticing the yellow-striped Giorgio bag. “Unusual,” I say, “amazing,” then leave it at that for lack of anything else to say. ![]() ![]() “Yeah, you matched well,” agreed Marcus, wearing his usual clown-wide grin, which made most females melt while it irritated the shit out of Dante. She gave Trick a reprimanding look for his teasing, but Dante could see that she was hiding a smile. ![]() No sooner had he set aside his empty cereal bowl than Grace, undeniably the world’s best cook, collected it. “All I’m saying is that you guys looked cute together,” teased Trick as he leaned back in his seat opposite Dante at the long oak table. Was there a funny side to a female maintaining you were her mate to her seven brothers who wanted your balls on a plate for “abandoning” her? He knew the enforcers were playing with him, but he was too agitated to see the funny side of things. “She’s not my mate,” he repeated for the tenth time. ![]() Dante shot a fierce scowl over his coffee mug at Dominic, Tao, Trick, and Marcus. ![]() ![]() I actually enjoyed it and because it was Easter, put up my feet and kept telling myself not to be so concerned with the lack of history, of depth of character to ignore the inconsistencies… only, in the end, as “fun” as the book was meant to be, I simply could not. Nevertheless, as I read about Max’s training, the colleagues she worked with, the very notion of time travel itself and the rationale for engaging in the same, I went along for the ride. I soon encountered some quite bloodthirsty and descriptive sex scenes which countered that idea. There was something in the style and language which I thought would appeal to that age group (and I love good YA fiction). I initially thought this must be a YA book – or rather, a book for VYA (V for Very). Well, it was certainly a lark – a romp even – through the very quick and barely explained training of a young historian with attitude, Max, before she sets off on dangerous adventure after adventure, earns the enmity of terrible people, the love of someone we’re led to believe is a good man, and saves the organisation in the process… or does she? What’s not to love about historians who actually time travel and work for a shady-kind of organisation (St Mary’s) that investigates the past, with often drastic consequences? I was under the impression it was a lark, fun with lashings of history and great characters (they were historians, after all). Highly recommended to me, when I saw the fabulous title (it’s a ripper) and read the synopsis, I was in. ![]() I was so looking forward to reading this book. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() Human contact unmediated by sterile, digitized perfection is messy, imperfect and even dangerous, but she’s willing to pay the price. Independent, courageous and immensely likable, Maddie is the heart of this story. Over time, Maddie grows weaker continued resistance results in an ever-longer sentence that she’s unlikely to survive. ![]() ![]() She’s supported by allies new and old, especially charismatic rebel Justin, her romantic and political partner in the fight to experience the sensory world directly. Incarcerated, Maddie stubbornly fights the powerful conditioning. Online funerals console the bereaved through forums and photos, rather than the warmth of human contact. Nightclub partygoers dance and interact through sophisticated digital avatars. Kids attend school from the safety of their bedrooms. In 2060, Americans live an increasingly virtual existence (think "Half-Life"). In this sequel to Awaken (2011), Maddie’s rebellion against digital school and social networking run amok land her in a detention center where detainees are conditioned to fear physical contact and transformed into pliant consumers content to conduct their lives online. ![]() ![]() ![]() She tried to shake away the memories but only managed to set flour raining from her hair. For a long time, I couldn’t get behind the wheel without hearing Oliver scream.” Every time I try to follow my intuition, someone gets hurt. ![]() Whatever inner voice other people have telling them what to do, mine’s broken. “Mistakes?” She let out a tight, painful laugh. “Clara,” Josh said gently, “even good drivers make mistakes.” He ended up with fourteen stitches, a bruised collarbone, and a broken arm.” “My younger brother, Oliver, was in the passenger seat. In the end, I turned on my blinker and hoped for the best. “The exit was coming up fast, and I needed to change lanes. “You know, I’m starting to think that guy sucks.” “I was late to rehearsal and I was so worried that if I didn’t show up, Everett would end up escorting someone else.” ![]() That’s like a fancy society event,” she said in answer to his blank look. “It was a couple of nights before cotillion. “I caused an accident,” Clara finally admitted, the words ripped out of her. I saw it the other day when you bought wine at the grocery store.” Why are you so sure you can’t drive? I know you have a license. ![]() ![]() Lovely.' Simple Things 'A beautiful memoir' Good Housekeeping 'Gentle, brave and acutely observant' Woman's Weekly Leaving her garden to the mercy of the slugs, the Guardian's award-winning writer Alys Fowler set out in an inflatable kayak to explore Birmingham's canal network, full of little-used waterways where huge pike skulk and kingfishers dart. ![]() Beautiful' Press Association 'An astounding memoir' Gay Star News 'Hidden Nature is one of the most thrilling things I've read in a long time' Waterways World 'She writes wonderfully about the species that have carved out a place for themselves amid the discarded shopping trolleys, condom packets and industrial waste' Guardian 'This candid book is as much about mapping the heart as it is about mapping the paths of waterways. ![]() ![]() 'An emotional and compelling memoir, that left me inspired, both by her bravery in transforming her life, and by the unexpected beauty she finds along the way' Countryfile Magazine 'Fowler beautifully exposes her emotional fragility while also celebrating the unloved nature of buddleia, herons and even the water rats who take refuge among the locks.' i paper 'Fowler captures the beauty of the canal's dishevelled, neglected condition.' Times Literary Supplement 'Thoughtful and heartbreakingly honest. ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() ![]() What I enjoyed most about This Poison Heart was the mix of YA sensibilities and gothic/mythological atmosphere. Bayron weaves Greek mythology and magical realism into a fun coming of age story that is pure Black girl magic, with a bonus queer crush on the rich and mysterious girl who knows more than she’s letting on. ![]() When Briseis discovers a poison garden on the estate and strangers start showing up to ask her for magical remedies, she realizes there is more going on than meets the eye. But small town New York state is a world away from Brooklyn and Briseis’s birth family has a way weirder, and darker, backstory than they can ever imagine. A surprise inheritance of an estate from an aunt Briseis never knew she had seems like the answer to a lot of their problems – they can get out of city for the summer and re-examine their struggling finances and Briseis will have plenty of room to experiment with her powers. Unlike a lot of YA fiction, Briseis isn’t trying to hide her abilities from her parents, but she is hiding that her plant affinity is drawing her strongly towards poisonous plants, something hard to hide or experiment with while in Brooklyn. Briseis has plant magic and can grow plants from a touch, but she doesn’t know the limits of her powers or how to control it. This Poison Heart by Kalynn Bayron follows Briseis, a Black teenager who lives with her two moms in Brooklyn, helping them run their flower shop. ![]() |