When I set up my blog about books and reading a couple of years ago, I did of course need a name for it. Over a cup of coffee I played about with some rather obvious titles: cover to cover, turning the page etc etc. They had of course all been taken by existing blogs or radio and TV programmes. It became clear that I would have to think more laterally. I’m not quite sure where the airing cupboard idea sprung from but as soon as it did, well, it felt right. beyondtheairingcupboard.co.uk it was. I really like the word ‘beyond’ as it seems to me to suggest endless possibilities. As soon as the blog was up and out there, a couple of people emailed to say ‘you do know beyond the airing cupboard is already there?’ Well, I wasn’t about to change it all at that point, so what would be would be.
Eventually, I was curious enough to look and see what this other airing cupboard was all about. It is a book about cricket! Who would have guessed? I bought a copy on Biblio UK and have enjoyed it. I know a little about cricket, believe it or not, having spent summer weekends throughout my childhood in Sevenoaks in Kent at my father’s cricket club. He captained the second eleven and, remember, in the 1950s and 60s children followed their parents’ activities at weekends. Now it is very much the other way around. I know where silly-mid-on and silly-mid-off are and remember my father breaking his little finger when fielding in just such a position. I know what a maiden over is and how many balls there are in an over. Weirdly this changed from eight to six balls at just about the time when my cricketing weekends were at an end. Having impressed you with my sporting knowledge I will now tell you that this book is primarily a very gentle memoir, interesting and amusing and a book that can be enjoyed with zero understanding of this very English game. John Barclay was for some years the captain of Sussex County Cricket and later a manager for England cricket tours.
And of course, the airing cupboard, where I started. Well, John Barclay’s said cupboard was rather superior to mine I am sure, as it was at Eton! I imagine it as a small room with roomy shelves and plenty of space filled with soft piles of dormitory bed linen. And why did he retreat there? Certainly not for a warm reading place. As a promising Etonian cricketer he found that high expectations were being put upon him and the fear of failure grew strong in a teenager anxious to do his best and achieve. So, before matches, he would hide away in the airing cupboard and commune with his cricket bat, (I kid you not!) whilst trying to get into a strong mental state, one that was likely to get good results.
So, not my usual reading matter but an interesting diversion … and it would make a lovely gift for anyone even remotely interested in cricket.
OK, so if that doesn’t work for you then I offer you Ian Rankin and his indefatigable detective inspector John Rebus. I think in my head he is very scruffy but at one point it is made clear that he does know where the dry cleaners is so we are not anywhere near the realms of the disreputable and highly unpleasant Jackson Lamb played by Gary Oldman in Slow Horses, (watch it if you can.)
I often wonder when I read these books, numbers 15 and 16 now and still Ian Rankin keeps ahead of me, as to what I find the attraction is. I think it might be that the author knows his characters so very well, thus the dialogue is taut and real. John Rebus and his detective sergeant Siobhan Clarke are moving through their lives with all the usual questions and problems that we all encounter but their days and weeks are also consumed by their police work. Do they not have partners or stable relationships because of their jobs or is this a useful mask to hide the difficulties a full personal life would bring? Neither of the characters would have a good answer to that question.
Ian Rankin must, I think, know every alleyway in Edinburgh and he is the master of detailed descriptions that bring the city alive for the reader. The dark underside is there along with the intellectual and artistic milieu. They are separate, somewhat disparate threads that the author then weaves together.
‘Fleshmarket Close’ is book number 15 but maybe I enjoyed ‘The Naming of the Dead’ a little more (number 16). It is set against real events: the G8 meeting at Gleneagles in Scotland, the result of the application for the 2012 Olympics and the 7th July London bombings. Everyone is jostling for power and control, those within the criminal fraternity, the various levels of councils and government and within the police force itself. This is a complex plot with stylish, confident, satisfying writing from the masterly Ian Rankin. There are still many more to go but that will do me for now.