www.emmaperegrine.com - The Power by Naomi Alderman Review

The Power by Naomi Alderman – Review

Craft Notes:

  • Multiple Narratives
  • Third Person Limited
  • Suspense
  • Themes: Feminism, gender roles, discrimination, power, and corruption.

Blurb:

All over the world women are discovering they have the power. With a flick of the fingers they can inflict terrible pain—even death. Suddenly, every man on the planet finds they’ve lost control. The day of the girls has arrived—but where will it end?

Yep. Took me about two seconds to impulsively pick up the book and take it to the till after reading that blurb.

This is the first novel I have read by Naomi Alderman and my only gripe is that I haven’t read her work sooner. Her style is easy to read, making this novel a good zipper—ie. a book that can be zipped through at an alarming speed. I finished it in about two days, give or take.

The bulk of the story is sandwiched by letters between a self-effacing social historian and author, Neil, and a fellow author, Naomi. The letters at the beginning set up the overall outcome of the novel which you might think would spoil the ending. On the contrary, this technique creates suspense and I found myself asking while reading “but how do we get from here to there?” The master of suspense, Alfred Hitchcock, explains the idea of revealing important information to create suspense in the book Hitchcock by Francois Truffaut (Simon and Schuster, 1985):

There is a distinct difference between “suspense” and “surprise,” and yet many pictures continually confuse the two. I’ll explain what I mean. 

We are now having a very innocent little chat. Let’s suppose that there is a bomb underneath this table between us. Nothing happens, and then all of a sudden, “Boom!” There is an explosion. The public is surprised, but prior to this surprise, it has seen an absolutely ordinary scene, of no special consequence. Now, let us take a suspense situation. The bomb is underneath the table and the public knows it, probably because they have seen the anarchist place it there. The public is aware the bomb is going to explode at one o’clock and there is a clock in the decor. The public can see that it is a quarter to one. In these conditions, the same innocuous conversation becomes fascinating because the public is participating in the scene. The audience is longing to warn the characters on the screen: “You shouldn’t be talking about such trivial matters. There is a bomb beneath you and it is about to explode!” 

In the first case we have given the public fifteen seconds of surprise at the moment of the explosion. In the second we have provided them with fifteen minutes of suspense. The conclusion is that whenever possible the public must be informed. Except when the surprise is a twist, that is, when the unexpected ending is, in itself, the highlight of the story.

 

Alderman achieves suspense from page one by using the technique that Hitchcock describes—and it makes for a thrilling read.

The main theme focusses on gender roles and the consequences of their subversion. There is a gradual change in gender roles throughout the book, echoed beautifully in tiny snippets of American news anchors’ chatter, where the man usually makes the interesting points—“Did you know the guy who invented the battery was inspired by looking at the bodies of electric eels?”—while the woman is there to receive his wisdom—“I did not know that, Tom, that is fascinating…And now the weather on the ones”. These are delicious little morsels that not only reflect the changes happening to the characters in the novel but also imply a wider scope of the impact of these changes.

Alderman has chosen four main narratives, three female, and one male, all written in the third person limited point of view. The inclusion of a male narrative was a brilliant decision, as we see the impacts of the changes within society through Tunde—a college-age photo journalist from Lagos—and we are able to empathise with his situation, which often drifts into the uncomfortable, and sometimes the truly horrendous. The multiple narratives also add to the suspense of the novel and made me desperate to turn the page to find out what was going on with the characters who are not in the current narrative.

Overall, Alderman’s novel takes a hard look at the differences, and similarities, between the genders and examines the ideas of the matriarchy and patriarchy. Her style is easy to read and the heightening suspense makes this novel difficult to put down.

Meatballs, Mash and Gravy: Dealing with Rejection

You’ve heard the ping. It’s in. And because your phone clearly hates you, you’ve seen the first few words as a preview.

“Unfortunately at this time…”

Your heart sinks as you fill in the rejection on your submissions spreadsheet. Are you even good enough? Maybe you should give up. Maybe you’re not cut out for this. Maybe that primary school teacher who ripped up your work was right…

Stop that right now. Get out some potatoes and get peeling. Remember every writer gets rejected multiple times. Multiple. Stephen King has been rejected. JK Rowling has been rejected. And now you’ve been rejected. Put your big girl knickers on, get out your masher, and pretend those potatoes are the faces of anyone who has ever said a negative thing about your writing or rejected you. You crush those potatoes!

And then when that’s all done, let the homely warmth of the lightly spiced meatballs and gravy give you a hug from the inside out.

Meatballs, Mash and Gravy: Dealing with Rejection | www.emmaperegrine.com

Serves 4

Total cost (approx.): £4.66

Cost per Serving (approx.): £1.17

Ingredients:

1 pack of around 20 swedish meatballs

Frozen peas

FOR THE GRAVY:

2 tbsp. flour

1 tbsp. butter

500ml beef stock

150ml sour cream

FOR THE MASH:

1kg potatoes

200ml milk

2 tbsp. butter

1 tsp. English mustard

Method:

Peel and chop the potatoes into two, three or four pieces depending on the size of the potatoes. Put in a pan of cold water so they are just covered, cover the pan with a lid and boil—the water should be bubbling but not violently—for around twenty minutes, until a fork goes into and comes out of the potato easily.

While the potatoes are boiling, make the gravy. Melt the tbsp. of butter in a large frying pan over a medium heat. When the butter has melted, add in the flour and mix it into a paste. Let it cook for around five minutes, stirring frequently so it doesn’t burn.

Get your peas on now, cook them according to the packet instructions.

Pour the stock slowly into the frying pan, whisking everything as you go to stop the gravy from getting lumpy. Keep it on a medium heat and stir with a wooden spoon until it thickens. When it has thickened, tip in the sour cream and stir it to combine. When it has combined, tip all the meatballs in and let them heat through.

While the meatballs are heating through, drain the potatoes then throw them back in the pan over the heat and pour in the milk, add the butter and the English mustard. Get your potato masher and mash away until the potatoes are fluffy and creamy.

Drain your peas and serve everything in a bowl. Read a good book while you eat, I beseech you—I recommend losing yourself in the world of Harry Potter.

French Onion Soup with Welsh Rarebit Croutons: Building Suspense in a Story | www.emmaperegrine.com

French Onion Soup with Welsh Rarebit Croutons: Building Suspense in a Story

French onion soup cooked the right way is like building up suspense in a story.

To paraphrase Hitchcock, you can show an explosion in a restaurant and, sure, it’s surprising to the audience, but if you show the bomb under the table while two men have their dinner totally unaware, that’s suspense.

Similarly, with onions you can flash fry them so they brown quickly and, yes, the end result tastes like onions. But to truly appreciate the sweet flavours of the onions, you need to slowly ratchet up the tension. You need to see the onions slowly sweat down and watch the natural sugars caramelise into a soft brown. Only this way of cooking onions produces the most satisfying French onion soup.

And what can I say of welsh rarebit? It’s essentially the best cheese on toast you will ever eat. It works so well as a crouton, you get the crunchiness of the crust but the middle melts in your mouth all gooey and cheesy and delicious. You won’t be able to have normal cheese on toast again without daydreaming about welsh rarebit.

Serves 6
Total cost (approx.): £3.23
Cost per Serving (approx.): £0.54

Ingredients:

For the soup:
1kg onions
1 tbsp. butter
1 tbsp. vegetable oil
3 garlic cloves, chopped
1 litre vegetable or chicken stock

For the croutons:

Small tiger loaf baguette or other French stick style bread
1 tsp. English mustard
3 tbsp. Guinness
1 tbsp. butter
1 tsp. Worcestershire
200g grated cheddar
2 egg yolks

Method:

Slice your onions into long strands—slice the onion in half along the root end, then slice thinly parallel to the root, this will give you long, thin, semi-circle strands—and put them in a large pan with the oil and butter over a low heat, and cover with a heavy lid.

Be patient with this bit, give those onions an hour. Go read a book, write a short story or do some household chores, whatever tickles your fancy.

When the onions have turned golden, add the chopped garlic and cook turn the heat up to medium for a couple of minutes. Then add your stock, stir and let the soup simmer gently while you prepare the welsh rarebit.

Slice the baguette into at least eighteen pieces—or more if you prefer your bread thinner, just make sure there are no holes in the dough—and lightly toast them under the grill on both sides.

Put the Guinness and English mustard in a small pan over a low heat and whisk lightly with a fork until the mustard is evenly distributed in the Guinness. Add the butter and stir until it has all melted and combined. Add the Worcestershire sauce. Tip in the cheese and stir until it has completely melted.

Take the pan off the heat and leave it to cool—you want the mixture warm so it is still pliable, but not hot so you don’t scramble the eggs—then add the egg yolks and stir until completely combined.

Spoon the mixture onto the bread then grill until golden brown.

Serve the soup in a bowl and place three welsh rarebit croutons on top. Grab a spoon and a good book and tuck in.

Tomato Sausage and Mushroom Pasta: Crafting a Good Story | www.emmaperegrine.com

Tomato, Sausage and Mushroom Pasta: Crafting a Great Story

It’s a basic and very frugal meal, but one that people so often get wrong. Pasta sauce should be thick and stick to the pasta, it should never be watery. If you can drink it, you’ve made it too thin!

Making a decent pasta sauce is much like crafting a great story. It needs time, care and plenty of attention.
If you are impatient and try to write the story before you’ve given it enough time to simmer and reduce down to its best bits, your plot, characters and message will be watery and diluted. The same is true of pasta sauce.

You need to give it time to reduce down so a large amount of the water evaporates from the tomatoes which will leave you with a deliciously rich and thick sauce. Give it at least an hour and stir frequently to ensure nothing sticks and burns on the bottom.

H.P. Lovecraft famously existed on little else which is no surprise since it’s one of the cheapest meals you can eat. He had his with beef mince, but times have changed and you can buy twenty frozen sausages for less than £1 where beef mince will set you back quite a bit more.

This is one of those comforting meals best enjoyed from a bowl with a fork (no knife—my grandmother would be horrified) while devouring a favourite paperback—I chose Emma by Jane Austen.

Serves 8
Total Cost (approx.): £6.74
Cost per Serving (approx.): £0.84

Ingredients:

6 tins chopped tomatoes
6 frozen sausages
1 pack (grams) mushrooms, chopped
1 onion, finely chopped
3 cloves of garlic, finely chopped
1 tsp dried basil
A splash of balsamic vinegar
Salt & Pepper
Pasta
Cheese, grated

Method:

Cook the sausages in your oven according to the instructions on the packet.

While the sausages are cooking, put the chopped onions and a drizzle of vegetable oil in a pan with a heavy lid and cover on a medium heat. Let the onions sweat for around ten minutes.

Take the lid off and add the chopped mushrooms and let them fry for around ten minutes.

Add the chopped garlic and let it cook for a couple of minutes with the mushrooms and the onions.

Take out the sausages and leave them to cool.

Tip in the tins of chopped tomatoes, the splash of balsamic vinegar, 1 tsp of dried basil and season to taste. Stir and let it bubble away happily—not violently—on a medium heat.

Chop your sausages into pound coin sized discs and add it to the sauce.

Let the sauce reduce down for around an hour and stir around every ten minutes to ensure nothing sticks to the bottom. Lower the heat if the sauce is spitting a lot—you don’t want your kitchen to look like a murder scene.
Cook your pasta according to the instructions on the packet.

Serve your pasta and sauce in a bowl and top with the grated cheese. Grab a fork and a good book and enjoy.

Turns out there's high sugar in caramel/chocolate coffees. No shit. | www.emmaperegrine.com

High Sugar in your Coffee? No Shit.

I’ve read a lot in the media recently about how shocking it is that there is a lot of sugar in a large, full fat, caramel latte with extra whipped cream, an extra shot, an extra drizzle of caramel and extra caramel syrup.

No shit.

I can’t help but feel it is not too dissimilar from being eye-poppingly bewildered that beef contains meat. Or that eggs come from a chicken’s arse.

Of course there is a lot of sugar in it. Caramel is made from sugar and butter.

Instead of pointing the finger of blame at the outlets who cater to our sugar cravings, perhaps it is time we all took a good hard look at ourselves and actually have a little think about what we are putting in our mouths.

Seriously.

If anyone is still confused:

A filter coffee or an americano has very little sugar.

A super-duper, triple shot, extra cream, extra syrup, extra motherfucking super large dessert-parading-as-a-coffee, has fuckloads of sugar.

Obviously.

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