Saturday, December 29, 2012

More Stories from my window


Stories from my window
Grand Harbour, Valletta, Malta


Washing up in Malta is about travel, coming of age, mothers and daughters.  The lives of two women, Jessica and Grace, unfold across a century of change.  Their particular journeys take them through Scotland, England, Germany, Africa, Bahamas and Australia.  Through it all, the place that punctuates their lives as a marker of home is the tiny island of Malta, at the centre of the Mediterranean Sea.   Grace begins her journey here and Jessica completes the circle by returning to Malta towards the end of her life.  In between, Grace and Jessica hear different drums.  Their lives share common rights of passage and the love of one man, but they each have their own way of dealing with the challenges of their times.  Just as Malta struggles to find a path towards independence, Jessica and Grace also find their own way through the competing demands of the world around them.

This is the text that appears on the back cover of Washing up in Malta.  The view at the top was taken on Boxing day but the same view with a different mood and time of day appears on the back cover as well.  Place is important in my writing and in the way I live.  Here is a quote from the linking strand of the book which uses my experiences of renovating my flat in Valletta.  This text started life as a poem that I posted a year or more ago on this blog.

From my window, the twin breakwaters of Grand Harbour embrace me like the arms of a final lover.  I feel the pulse of Valletta snuggled at my back, breathing softly in my ear.  He speaks to me, this city built by gentlemen for gentlemen, this city of straight, masculine lines and defensive bastions, this city of baroque excess.

I am part of the softer, rounded shapes of the goddess temples, more ancient than the knights' city, trampled by the knights' religion, reborn in Valletta chapels as virgin mother and martyred saint.

Yet his soft breathing enchants me and his encircling arms merge with my own arms.  Red and green candles flicker in my hands guiding ships to the safe harbour that has become my own haven.

I woke this morning before dawn and watched the lights on the harbour walls winking as a small cargo ship left port.  The wind is rising and white caps are forming outside the walls.  On the horizon to the East, the lights of oil tankers moored on Hurd bank are lined up like an invading fleet.  The reason they are there is never quite explained - they are waiting for wold oil prices to rise; they are undertaking some chemical cleansing process that leaves a toxic sludge; they are waiting to unload their cargo.


Friday, December 28, 2012

Washing up in Malta - the story continues





One of my resolutions for January which I may or may not renew each month through 2013 is to post at least one blog each month.  2012 has overwhelmed my blog.  My first book, Washing up in Malta, came out and I traveled a lot and I started working on the second book.

Another resolution for January is to write 500 words a day on the next book.  I have managed to do that since I returned to Malta in October and I am almost at the end of the first draft but have bogged down so have decided to leave it for a couple of weeks over Christmas and New Year.  When I return from a week's trip to Djerba in Tunisia I'll get going again.

I'm learning a lot, probably the hard way, about publication.  From idea to book in hand, Washing up in Malta took me longer than my PhD, at least ten years.  The idea emerged when I recorded some of my mother's stories before she died but the shaping of the story waited until after I finished my day job in 2008 when I set up this blog and started practicing the craft of writing.  Many drafts later and I had a manuscript to send off to publishers at the start of this year.

I was rejected by silence or by polite letters of praise with the inevitable 'However'.  It seemed that I had left my run too late and was doomed to the bitterness of the scorned writer or years of pouring my energy into pursuit of a publisher.  I didn't like that idea and with my 8th decade looming on the horizon, I don't have a lot of time to wallow.  There are at least two more book ideas in my head and I wanted to get going.  I decided to publish through authorhouse.uk.  It's called author assisted publication.

I felt very worried at first.  When you're on a fixed income, the bright young things on the other end of the phone were asking for a lot of money.  I was relying only on my own judgement about the quality of the work.  I resisted the hard sell to double the cost and have what seemed to be just a line edit.  I took photos for the cover, more photos to go inside behind the poems I wanted included at the start of sections, and did a final rework on the manuscript.  It was a scramble to get it all off before departing on the first leg of my round-the-world trip.

The process was fast.  As I traveled, I was passed on from one publishing section to another and had the support of different groups of relatives as I went.  My sister in California helped me negotiate proof changes and cover design alterations.  My cousins in New Zealand and Australia encouraged me with interest.  In Brisbane, I held the first hard copies in my hand.  It felt good.

Much of the rest of my stay in Queensland was about letting go of Washing up in Malta and doing research for the second book, Songs for a Blind Date.  That is one of the threads I am writing into "Songs".  But the last phase of marketing a book is particularly hard when you have self-published.  I am resisting the hard sell of putting out more money to get Washing up in Malta noticed by a wider reading public.  I feel uneasy about the thought that my book might be read simply because I have put out a lot of money to have it come up at the top of electronic search engines or get featured at book fairs.  So Washing up in Malta will remain in my life for a while longer as I find ways to personalise the selling of the book through book readings and identification of particular readerships such as travelers and the Maltese diaspora.

In my next post, I'll say something about what Washing up in Malta is about.  In the meantime you can find it on Amazon.com, Amazon.com.uk, authorhouse.co.uk or on my Facebook page under Josephine Burden

Monday, October 29, 2012

Morning at Shorncliffe


Fog over the creek as we set off


The crane...

and the fisherman


Below the cliff


Ruby explores...



and leads the way...



...home to a bit of light reading


Monday, October 22, 2012

Washing up in Malta

Almost a year gone by and I have neglected my blog.  But I have been writing and publishing my book Washing up in Malta https://www.facebook.com/pages/Josephine-Burden/487711101240108

I've also been traveling for three months and have lots of photos to post.  But I just have to work out the new format on this site before I get back into it!  I'm also working on my next book.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Walking the Cottonera - Images





The start of a new year and my first post for 2012. This is also the first post from my new iMac. I have worked out how to get photos into the machine, now I will experiment with getting them onto this page!

Titles for my first four offerings:

1. A man and his dog on the road to Rinella
2. Evening light over Kalkara
3. In the Birgu ditch
4. On the road to Kalkara

I'll put up another post with text soon

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Images of the North West











These are images to accompany the adjacent post, more or less in the order of the text. Somehow I managed to put up two copies of the same picture and I still don't know how to get rid of it! Here are headings for each photo.
1. Skorba standing stones
2. Floor of one of the ancient dwellings found next to Skorba temple
3. Ta Hagrat
4. Plant and rock at Ta Hagrat
5. The cat of Ta Hagrat
6. Rolling stones - one theory is that these were used to move the stones into place
7. The fault line
8. Tiny garigue plants with my loaned stick
9 & 10 Sedimentary rock layers

Friday, December 23, 2011

The North West



Something about the North West of a region seems to bring out the more rugged, wild side. I was born on an island on the wild West coast of Scotland; in the North West of Australia I have traveled through the dramatic landscape of the Kimberley; in the North West of Tasmania, I have been humbled by the Tarkine wilderness area, that is now under threat.

Malta is a tiny island, heavily developed with an ancient history of human influence, yet the North West retains something of the natural landscape and boasts the first of Malta's National Parks, il Majjestral. This is the area that the Malta Ramblers chose for their weekend pre-Christmas retreat this year.

Alex Vella and Sam Grech had laid on a full programme for us. I am not used to the luxury of having someone else make all arrangements for me and I really enjoyed falling in with the group for a whole weekend. If I had twinges of conscience about staying at a luxury hotel that intrudes outrageously on the landscape, my misgivings were assuaged by the fascinating natural and cultural resources we were able to access readily from such a base.

I missed out on the first walk on Friday afternoon because there was too much happening at home, the bus route between Valletta and Golden Bay is tortuously slow and I was unsure about how my recently sprained ankle would deal with what promised to be a difficult walk. The route led along the Westerly cliff of the park and dipped down into the boulder strewn drop-off below the fault line that forms the cliffs. For now, I have to content myself with looking down on this rich terrain from the garigue above. I have attended an excellent lecture by Analise Falzon, Parks Ranger, in which she discussed how the tumbled, boulder strewn areas below the cliff edge becomes a protected habitat for a variety of flora and fauna. The park area also extends out into the sea.

I arrived at the hotel on Friday evening in time to be stunned by the magnificent sunset view over Golden Bay to the Ghan Tuffieha headland. It was a dramatic cocktail before finding my way down for the first of our indulgent buffet dinners. There is something about being in a large group of people that gives us all permission to eat far more than we need. Perhaps it is a deep memory of more ancient times when clans and communities would come together to celebrate a successful hunt in a lean season or fatten up before an anticipated period of scarcity. Whatever the excuse, it was a great way to mellow out before the quiz night that had been planned for us by the unstoppable Sam.

Saturday was planned as a full day of walks and visits that we could drop out of at several points during the day if we wanted an early return to the hotel. First we walked to the Elysium, a plant nursery run by the GAIA foundation where Maltese native flowers, shrubs and trees are reared from seed to be planted around the island. This was a great opportunity for me. I came away with an enormous list of possible plants for my dream roof garden.

The groundswell of public opinion in favour of preserving and extending the cultivation of endemic species is now supported by the development of nurseries such as Elysium. I am hopeful that it won't be too long before roundabouts and public gardens will boast collections of garigue and endemic plants. I recall when I lived in Redlandshire, south of Brisbane in Australia, the local council ran a native plant nursery where they had laid out examples of private gardens using only endemic species. Local people were enabled to consider how to develop their own gardens using endemic plants rather than exotics.

From the nursery, we walked up over garigue paths past Ghan Tuffieha bay where my father painted a water colour of the bay sixty years ago. The old hotel that must have been operating in those days is now abandoned and falling into ruin awaiting permits to develop. I am hopeful that the unpredictability of the terrain in that area and a changing climate about over development of tourist sites will prevent that from happening.

From there, we followed paths and country roads until we arrived at Zebbiegh where we paused for lunch. Very few of us felt like eating after an over-indulgent buffet breakfast. Some decided that the morning's walk had been enough for them and caught a bus back to the hotel. My ankle had felt vulnerable on the garigue and I was grateful to another Rambler who arranged for her husband to meet us at Zebbiegh with a stick for me to use.

The lunch stop was close to the Skorba temple which was our first afternoon visit. I have walked past the site several times and have read about it in the archeological books I have on my shelves but this was the first time I was able to enter the site with a knowledgeable guide. The site is quite small and bounded by more recent development but nevertheless is very significant in terms of a fuller understanding of the temple building era.

The site at Ta Hagrat in Mgarr which was our second visit is no bigger than Skorba but the familiar layout of circular apses is more readable. The site is unique in having steps leading up to the main entrance.

I was tired as we completed our tour of the two temples and was happy to catch a bus back to the hotel along with several other members of the group including our leader, Alex! The remaining members walked back along the cliffs to join us at another over indulgent buffet dinner followed by a quiz night.

On our last day we were scheduled to walk through il Majjestral National Park accompanied by leading naturalist, Analise Falzon. We met up with her at the entrance to the old British barracks which have recently been handed over to the Parks administration. As we walked up through the barracks we were treated to a first-hand glimpse of the tensions that needed to be negotiated between Parks administration and habitual users of the area.

During our initial briefing, several off-road vehicles roared past us and Analise explained how signs or closed gates usually had a life-span of less than one week before being ripped down or vandalised. Traditional hunters and fishers also expected to have parking areas as close as possible to their hunting or fishing spots. Even family picnicking puts unexpected demands on the park administration. One family arrived and established themselves in one of the buildings of the barracks as though it was their own weekender and another family who were using the electronic vehicle track assumed a right to start a BBQ fire using sparse garigue wood.

It will be a long road to establish a shift in patterns of useage for the park. Organisations such as the Ramblers have a role to play in modeling appropriate behaviour and we have also undertaken to help with some clean up work in 2012 but it will require a lot of good will on the part of government and NGOs before we begin to see a shift from a culture of exploitation to one of nurturance.

Once we got out onto the garigue, it was most clearly the culture of nurturance that Analise was able to demonstrate as she stopped us by rich groupings of flora and explained to us the diversity of plants that grew in the various habitats generated by geological processes.

The walk finished at the Manikata medieval farming community at the edge of the park where we had a rustic lunch. This area is now managed by a co-operative of local farmers who have done a great job restoring the old dwellings, caves, apiaries and gardens. By this time, the scheduled short morning walk had extended well into the afternoon and I was happy for the offer of a lift back to Sliema where I would find more frequent buses to Valletta and home.

It was a great weekend that left me pondering several of the dilemmas and contradictions associated with the task of moving from a culture of exploitation and over-development to one of nurturance and conservation. Development such as the luxury hotel at which we stayed cannot now be reversed but perhaps we can find ways of enabling the man-made to support and nurture the recovery of the natural and we can certainly be more careful in granting permits for further development. Some cultural practices exploit and damage the natural environment and it will be difficult to shift these patterns unless we can show that there is real joy in cherishing what we have left and this legacy is the right and responsibility of all.