Prologue to a longer story

Prologue;          Hearts

Lovisa finds Elsa sprawled in a recliner. Elsa’s thin legs are encased in faded denim and her slender feet by grubby white socks. Lovisa can see the stained pressure imprint that carries gritty dirt from the floors, a grubby, ghostly representation of Elsa’s feet. A pale yellow hoody covers her body and head. Elsa’s is in there, somewhere but her face is hidden in shadow. Lovisa’s heart pounds as she anticipates this conversation.

Elsa watches TV, her posture says sleep but her eyes are only half closed. Lovisa mutes the TV and sits on a foot stool in front of Elsa, taking her left hand, examining the icy fingers.

“Not working today Els?”

“I’m done Mum.”

Elsa withdraws her hand.

“Done, how can an art student be done, darling?”

“I’ve done all I’m doing. I’m done. I’ve had enough, more than enough, much more than enough. I know what you want and I’m sorry but I’ve had enough. I’m done.”

Lovisa sits up straight on the foot stool and stares hard at her daughter. “Elsa, am I supposed to sit here and accept that you’ve had enough? You’ve had enough and what I feel, what all the people who love us and work with us feel doesn’t matter, all those people, all those hours, all that work, all for us, for you, doesn’t any of that matter? Don’t I matter?” Lovisa is flushed, furious. “Your father, the family, you’ve obligations.”

“It’s not about you mum or them. It’s about me, it’s about me.” Tears stream down Elsa’s cheeks; she pulls her knees to her chest, wrapping her thin arms around her bony shins. Black hollows frame her dark eyes, wide open now as she gazes at her mother who strokes her pale hand. “I’ve had enough. I want it to stop. It’s stopped. No more!”

Lovisa places her fingers at Elsa’s cold blue lips hushing her like she did when she was small. “You’ve stopped?” She asks but her racing heart knows the answer. Chilled flesh confirms what the doctor’s phone call conveyed.

“You know I have, seventeen years of needles and pills, suppositories and inhalers, IVs and catheters, setbacks and recoveries. Mum, you know the signs. It’ll be over soon.” Tears roll down Lovisa’s face now and Elsa brushes them from her cheeks. “It’s my heart mum, my heart.”

“It hurts all the time.”

“Everything hurts; I am so tired of it, so tired.”

“I’ve talked about this.”

“We’ve talked about it.”

Lovisa looks at Elsa and produces a thin lipped grimace, she thought of it as a smile but how can she smile? “We’re at the top of the list; we could get the call any time.”

“And then what mum, some girl is dead. I get to live with more drugs, more needles and a dead girl beating inside me.”

“Reminding me of death every moment.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Let me go,” Elsa whispers, “please.”

Lovisa stands, tall over her reclining daughter. “That heart would be a gift Els, to you and to me, don’t you see that?”

Clattering noises intrude and Elsa’s body stiffens. “Mum, what’ve you done?”

Lovisa withdraws from her daughter as uniforms approach. Green advances, holding an oxygen mask as blue talks about “committal and involuntary detention.” White uniforms enter the room.

Elsa calls, “Mum.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper.

It’s just uniforms, a gurney and the mask. They strap her frail arms; the mask closes in.


Sinning Across Spain

Sinning Across Spain Ailsa Piper 2012, Victory Books for more information or Google Books reviews  or

and to purchase

I have to declare two things as I review this book. Firstly I knew Ailsa briefly in the late 1970s at university and secondly that I am thoroughly atheist. Normally I would not pick up a book with a title like this. It is only after I saw Ailsa interviewed on ABC TV that I became motivated to interact with her and the book.

Sinning Across Spain is an interesting treatise on actually walking a pilgrim path in Spain and as such it is well worth reading just for that information and for the inspiration that  is Ailsa’s walking story.

More importantly for me the book chronicles many aspects of Ailsa’s life and as such it contains a lot of frank personal experience that sweeps well beyond the scope of walking in Spain. Ailsa uses the premise of carrying sins of close friends and more abstract acquaintances very effectively. Ailsa employs a mixture of autobiographical content, history, myth, legend and literature to construct a blended narrative of her life that works well as a vehicle to interrogate wide issues of faith, truth, trust, culture and everyday philosophy. This narrative allows her to focus her lens on issues of fidelity, choice, religion and relationships. The title and subject matter suggests Roman Catholic ideology and while Ailsa does examine these issues the book is never didactic and never suggests Christianity as an ideal pathway to spiritual satisfaction. Indeed it seemed to me to promote an ideology that celebrates some of the cultural value of Christianity but not the literal interpretation the bible. Nor does it support biblical concepts of heaven, hell and sin as impositions of a God. Instead Ailsa examines the idea that we construct our own deity, values and penances. For Ailsa heaven is a hot day on the walking path. She finds almost overwhelming inspiration in nature where her spirit soars, empowered by her love of life and the love she finds in nearly everything around her. Ailsa recounts her pleasure in uncovering layers and this is a motif of her journey, an often solitary journey of walking, one foot after another and the gradual peeling back of layers, of history, of culture and of self. She mines rich veins of all three during her pilgrimage in Spain and later at home. Home is an important concept for Ailsa and this is evident throughout this book, indeed Ailsa reflects that home is her favourite word in any language. Mostly this is a book about love, about knowing love, of receiving love and giving love.

Sinning Across Spain alsohighlightsAilsa’s beautiful command of our language and this book is a celebration not only of walking but also of English firstly but also Spanish and the other languages she encounters on her pilgrimage. Poetry is featured often as the narrative unfolds and keen students of literature will really enjoy this aspect while less expert readers will encounter many linguistic white rabbits to chase down burrows. This borrowed and found linguistic richness is expertly augmented by Ailsa’s own capacity to construct elegant and powerful passages of poetic prose. This paragraph begs a quote but there are so many I will leave it to you potential readers to enjoy them fresh, as Ailsa intended.

Autobiography has never been a genre I have sought out though there are a few that I have read in recent years including the first two of Jon Doust’s ‘Boy’ series, Jeanette Winterson’s Oranges are not the only fruit & Why be happy when you could be normal and Simone Lazaroo’s The world waiting to be made. Ailsa Piper’s Sinning Across Spain sits proudly on my bookshelf with these other fine and awarded books. Like the other books mentioned above Sinning Across Spain is abook I will dip into again and again whenever I am looking for inspiration. I heartily recommend it to you. (Piper 2012)   For more information to purchase

Harry Hercock


November 2012

Piper, Ailsa. 2012. Sinning across Spain : a walker’s journey from Granada to Galicia. Carlton, Vic.: Victory Books.


Hi Ailsa There are 23k words preceding these. Sadly because this is short there is little context. I want to try to show a transition from cerebral activity to visceral activity with the physical description of a smile. Writing the smile has become a conceit, but I want to dislocate the reader, make them think about what a smile is. Its animal aspects. that’s why  I asked you if you had written a good smile. I might not be able to make this bit, or any of this work but I want to try.  The endnotes are my in-text notes from word. It is how the browser displays them. I do not want to use any metaphor in this!

“Alright.” Elsa sits up, and swings her legs off the bed. She looks back at Aki still lying quietly. Its starts with little creases around Aki’s mouth and then her white teeth become visible. Fine lines appear around her twinkling[HWH2] blue eyes and creases deepen in the corners of her mouth. Then the flesh of her cheeks puckers and bunch up as her grin [HWH3] deepens until her brown lips frame her fully exposed teeth[HWH4] . She tilts her head a little and shards of light reflect  brightly from her eyes. Elsa smiles too.

section break______________________________

 [HWH1]Third virtual person Roslyn Ignore for now. This a secondary dialogue I have to develop.

 [HWH2]Too close to a metaphor how else to say this? sparkling and twinkling are too clichéd

 [HWH3] grin I don’t want to use this word.

 [HWH4]Think about how a smile evolves

Whats in a name

All my life i have been teased about my name. Now even google does this. I searched on my name and google (you have to love google) returned texts where her and dick are in close conjunction as in

Chapter XXI – The Gold-Stealers – Edward Dyson, Book, etext

“I’d do anythin’ fer her,” Dick replied. “Thanks, old man. I’ll never forget it.” It did not surprise the boy that Harry should thank him for services to be…/goldstealers21.html – 

Go figure. This type of string search is so crude and throws up so much crud but there it is.