A hopeful outlook

THE man tapped the tip of his quill pen on the table impatiently, but the words still refused to come. There was a hesitant tap at the door. “Yes?” His voice crackled with impatience. “If you please,

Iris climbed down from the donkey cart that had given her a lift from Penzance station, being careful not to ladder her best stockings, and walked up the narrow lane to Nantolven Farm. There was no si

Coming up for air

WINDINGS NO STRAIGHT ROAD TAKES YOU THERE ...

Mothers are the most familiar strangers in our lives, says novelist Abigail Bergstrom. We grow up believing we know them inside out, and, yet, how much of them do we truly see?

The decline of classical eloquence and the rise of literary persuasion