MIK SABIERS savours the first headline solo show of the stalwart of Brighton’s indie-punk outfit Blood Red Shoes
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Shine on Silver Moon
JAMIE BRITTON is spurred by the memoir of a feminist bookshop to remember streets once filled with radical literature and activism
New releases reviewed by IAN SINCLAIR
STEVEN ANDREW is moved beyond words by a historical account of mining in Britain made from the words of the miners themselves
CAILEAN MCBRIDE welcomes a refreshing and timely study of the way officialdom creates structures that exclude LGBT+ rights and humanity
The bard mourns the loss of comrades and troubadours, and looks for consolation with Black Country Jess
CHRIS MOSS relishes the painting and the life story of a self-taught working-class artist from Warrington
MARY CONWAY is disappointed by a star-studded adaptation of Ibsen’s play that is devoid of believable humanity
A Bookshop of One’s Own
Jane Cholmeley, Mudlark, £16.99
CHARING CROSS ROAD in London has changed. Back in the 1980s I had made the foolhardy decision to move to London. Foolhardy in that I was in my twenties and had no idea of “city life” and secondly, I had no work to go to. So I ended up working at Foyles bookshop.
I hated it.
During my lunch break (I had to “clock off”) I would walk miserably down Charing Cross Road dreaming of all those other bookshops that so nicer to work for. Film, crime, art, second hand; this was a place of wonder for a bibliophile. And then I would end up at 68 Silver Moon, whose window displays were always eye-catching, at times humorous, but always welcoming.
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