Blood Harmonies

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In a nutshell, if you are a big fan of Grace Kelly, and are able to bring an extensive knowledge of her life, both pre and post-Hollywood, then this one’s for you. Sadly however, I was not in this target audience, so ended up feeling somewhat underwhelmed.

In part, this is because I went along for the wrong reasons. I’ve been researching vintage designer clothing for the current novel I’m writing (Blood Harmonies). And after over-indulging in such visual feasts as Dean L. Merceron’s stunning book, Lanvin, and the V&A’s own catalogue from their Golden Age of Couture exhibition (which sadly, I missed when it was on), I suppose I had presumed the bar would have been set a lot higher for this show.

In the interests of fairness, I should say that it was obvious to me that not everyone shared my view. Because the show was so crowded, it was impossible not to overhear the comments other attendees were making. It struck me that the crowd was quite evenly split between those possessed of an encyclopedic knowledge of Grace and her life, and who were continually crying out with glee as they spotted outfits they recognised, and were able to blurt out where/when they had been worn without reading the cards. (In many cases, through unavoidable eavesdropping I gleaned far more interesting information than was provided on the cards.)

The trouble is, from a purely frocks point of view there are only a handful of dresses and suits whose stunning lines, glorious fabrics, stellar tailoring and craftsmanship make you thing, now this is Style. One is the famous chiffon dress from Hitchcock’s Rear Window, (above left) which sends out its visual siren’s song to lure you across the room. Another, also chiffon, is the perfect pale blue dress with exquisite detail and fit that Grace wore to the showing of presents before her wedding. There’s also a fabulously floaty maternity gown, a Dior ensemble, and two stunning days suits by Chanel. However, these are struggling to steal the show from under the weight of outfits which just leave you thinking, Grace Kelly wore that?

Even though in most cases there were supporting photos of her wearing the outfits, and even the most dowdy and ill-fitting of the suits improved immeasurably when on her, it was hard to escape the feeling that for those who have not read somewhat obsessively about the Princess of Monaco’s life, there simply isn’t enough Grace about this exhibition.  (However, one voice overheard, who seemed far more up-to-speed on all things Monaco, suggested one possible explanation for the most ill-fitting of the suits may have been that its lumpy design was intended to respect the hierarchy of euro-royalty, and help Grace Kelly not completely upstage those she’s photographed with.)

This is not to say the exhibition is completely without frisson.  In particular, I found the shoes and bags inexplicably moving. Especially, the noticeably bashed ‘Kelly’ bag (it’s more tan coloured than the one seen here) which spoke both about of luxury and banal normality. It definitely struck me as a much-loved bag which had been around the world and back again. Needless to say, this was not the same immaculate black Kelly bag gracing the princess’s arm in the supporting photo but then, what woman do you know whose favourite bag could reasonably pass muster as a museum piece?

Overall, I don’t regret going. After all, it was a day out at the V&A. But if you are thinking of going, I’m sure you’ll get a lot more out of it if you do your Grace Kelly homework beforehand. Which, strangely enough, although I didn’t know it when I set off for the V&A, is something I will now be doing anyway, as I translate Cyril Dewitt’s novel, seen opposite.

To me, this clip is both unbelievably uplifting, and yet somehow tragic as well. First there is the obvious top note, where the sublime Joshua Bell meets the transcendental Bach. But running underneath, there’s also the relentless rhythm of rush-hours the world over, in which everyone is too fraught and harassed to spot beauty, never mind engage with it before their third cuppa.

At first, it’s heartbreaking to watch the commuters shuttling past, but then there’s the woman who stops and makes me wish I could be more like her. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve bumped into inspirational talents in London (quite literally recently in the case of Sir Ian McEwan, when we collided on Waterloo station and kind of spun each other off kilter. There was that split second moment when I saw him clock that I’d recognised him. He smiled, and there was my cue. But all I could think of was, OMG, you’re Ian McEwan, I don’t believe it! So instead I went for a deranged return-of-smile and hurtled myself star-struck along the platform. But this woman in Washington she just jumps right in there, and actually draws Joshua to her…If you listen to the end, and hear the statistics of what happened that morning, it’s not hard to imagine she will also have been a highlight of Joshua Bell’s day too.

Perfect as it is, this isn’t the only such uber-busking example out there. Recently I was in Toronto, and so listening to Classical 96.3 FM and they were talking about a short film that was showing in the Toronto Film Festival, which recreated the Joshua Bell experiment, only in the Paris Metro, with the violinist Renaud Capuçon. I’ve fired off a barrage of emails, trying to track down how to order a copy of this film, but no luck so far.

I’m very interested to see an extended clip of this experiment playing out in Paris, as from early on in writing Blood Harmonies, I knew I would include a Paris busking scene involving a priceless Guarneri, which all goes very badly wrong. So if anyone knows how/where to get a copy of 7:57 AM-PM, I’d be very grateful to hear from you.

In a video clip on the Guardian’s website, Joshua Bell plays the Vieuxtemps del Gesù, which is about to go to auction for a record-breaking asking price of $18 million.  In the clip below he explains why his infatuation for this pinnacle of violins just keeps on growing.  There’s an advert with dodgy sound at the beginning (at least on my machine), but it quickly settles down a sublime and tantalizing little film.

Click here to enjoy the video clip.

To see fascinating images of the Vieuxtemps (sadly, not seen here!) check out these shots from when it was sent for a CT scan.

The Hummingbird Bakery Cookbook by Tarek Malouf


My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This book had the endorsement of two trusted sources before I even opened the cover. The first was my friend Laurel, who is an outstanding cook, and who sent me this for my birthday.

The second reason to be hopeful was printed on the sleeve. Gwyneth Paltrow, who not only knows a thing or two about great food, but tends to also know the chef who invented it, raves about it. In the past, my attempts at Red Velvet cake have produced rather disappointingly pink results. But as you can see, today’s cake is like a red, red rose.

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The Believers by Zoë Heller


My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I’ve just this minute finished this extraordinary novel, so will need more time to properly gather my thoughts. Although I would recommend it without reservation, I’m not sure I can really say I enjoyed it, so much as admired it enormously.

For the first half I found Audrey’s relentless snarking and self-absorbed ranting quite tedious. But by the end I felt delighted to see there was some light on the horizon for her. Equally, at first, every paragraph inside Karla’s head, or worse, her marriage, felt somewhat interminable. But as she finally began to emerge from the pitiful self-deprecation, I was rooting for her, and for Rosa, and would happily have followed them both on for another novel.

More than anything, what really kept me going was the sheer force and verve of the prose. I can’t think of when I last read writing I’ve admired this much, or felt moved to make oodles of notes on. Although for me, it lacked the breathless forward momentum of Notes on a Scandal, I’ve no doubt The Believers is a treat I’ll be returning again and again.

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