Forgotten Crops and Narrative Possibilities

Six weeks ago, I watched a documentary on YouTube about veggies grown in medieval times that, despite easily self-seeding, outgrowing weeds and having mostly better nutritional value than modern-day replacements, have fallen out of common knowledge. Supermarkets don’t stock them as veggies and mainstream seeds catalogues don’t sell them to grow. The reason they’ve fallen out of use (and it seems most memories) appears to be that they don’t fit in with modern day big farming methods. They either take a while to establish and so do not provide a quick return on investments, or cannot be easily machine harvested and so are expensive to crop, or need eating quickly once picked and so don’t have a long enough shelf life to make them financially viable in supermarkets.

I found all this out by accident, as a result of looking for veggies you can plant out later in the growing season because we’d had to take our greenhouse down. Between the start of Feb and last week the greenhouse has been out of use in order that a diseased horse chestnut tree could be felled. The tree surgeon said he couldn’t guarantee the greenhouse’s safety in the face of felling such a huge and very rotten tree directly over the top of it. So take it down my husband did. It was meant to go back up the following week but a flurry of named storms blew in making the felling too dangerous and so we had to wait a further five weeks to put it back up. Thus our seed growing window was heavily reduced which provoked my online research for veggies that can be planted and/or germinate outside spring. I’d had some success with pak choi last year which you sow straight into the ground after the last frost so I was quite confident there would be veggies out there we could look at. The greenhouse went back up last Friday and will be the starting point for this spring’s regular seedlings for tomatoes, courgettes, pumpkins and beans, but in addition to these, this year we’ve now prepped the soil and made space for a whole new selection of forgotten crops that will start to get planted in April and finish getting planted in Autumn (some of the seeds need to overwinter before germinating).

It has taken a fair bit of research accessing the seeds but hey I’m a research student now, so have been using my newly learned transferrable (it turns out) skills to get six strangely named new (to us) veggies that used to be the mainstay of potager’s gardens in the UK for hundreds of years before industrialisation. Sadly there is one I haven’t been able to source yet but I will keep on trying because I love the idea that we’re bringing something old (and to us, new) back to life (hopefully). Also, having lots of different crops that reseed and look after themselves seems like a great way forward and much more suitable to a potager’s garden like ours, so much better than growing line after line of thirsty, modified plants like commercial farmers do, that need constant watering and weeding and replacing every year. Hope this new system will mean less gluts and dearths, and that having small amounts of different veggies that come up in sequence will add interesting variation to our diets. I’ll document what all the new seeds/plants will be in my next blog, and also where I bought them from, so anyone who’s interested can try growing some too. (you can see three on the photo at the start of this blog). And here’s a couple of photos of the prepped soil ready for all the lovely seeds to take up residence.

Whilst all this seedy stuff has been underway, I’ve also been beavering away at my PhD research. I had my second supervision meeting yesterday which really cemented in my head how much I love these meetings. They’re a mixture of: touching base, getting expert perspectives and guidance, a cheerleading session for those of us (i.e. me) with persistent imposter syndrome, reporting back on stuff done since the previous session and setting a goal/target of things to do /talk about next time. Both my supervisors are truly expert in their fields, their minds brimful of knowledge. I count myself as very lucky to have them as mentors. Below is a flash fiction style narrative list of some of the things I’ve done between my first and second supervisions.

  1. Written a draft first flash for my PhD creative component novella-in-flash (I say first but it might not be first in the story, just the first to get written).
  2. Read 3 novellas-in-flash, and the novel Waterland by Graham Swift which isn’t written ‘in flash’ because the chapters are too long, but which uses many of the component, restrictions and techniques I’ve been identifying as characteristic of ‘in-flash’ writing; read A Lover’s Discourse by Roland Barthes (I say read but I mean struggled with.
  3. Read everything I could find by Mark Fisher who is a postmodern genius.
  4. Attended researcher develop training sessions on: setting up a thesis doc in Word, Managing Perfectionism and What Should a Literary Review Do?
  5. Won a York St John Uni International Women’s Day Poster comp prize for ‘best feminist engagement’. My poster was displayed in the post grad centre for IWD and students voted for the winners. There’s a copy of it at the bottom of this blog entry. I got a certificate (I love a certificate) and a £15 voucher which I intend to spend on wine and tacos. Very pleased I took part in this, because flash lends itself really well to posters I reckon and I’m now properly interested in doing more so…
  6. Started another poster for the Humanities Post Grad Research Annual Flagship Event in May, which, this year, is going to include the launch of journal Curiositas, a new publication established and staffed by postgraduate researchers from the School of Humanities. Alongside this launch will be a celebration of postgraduate research currently taking place across the school in the form of posters done by the postgrad researchers themselves. These posters will aim to give a taste of projects underway and I’m going to enter one for my project. I’ll post it here when it’s done, but starting this poster made me realise that writing ‘in-flash’ needn’t be constrained to novella, and that, in fact, I’ve written micros ‘in-flash’ already. I’m putting a micro I wrote ‘in-flash’ on the poster. This 300 word micro is made up of three standalone drabbles which when read together imply another story. This made me question what writing ‘in-flash’ truly is.

In order to try to find out I’ve decided to take a short story I wrote a couple of years ago, which was published in my collection, Hostile Environments and rewrite it so it’s told ‘in-flash’. I chose a quite fragmentary short story of 2200 words that’s not, (I think,) written ‘in-flash’ to investigate similarities and differences. So, as an experiment, I’m going to restructure it, so it becomes what I reckon is an ‘in-flash’ story, and then, describe what I think defines the change.

It could be all or none of the following: making each fragment narratively complete and standalone; making each (now) standalone flash be 1000 words or less; giving each individual standalone flash it’s own title; making the ending of each now standalone flash ring like a bell to give readers moments of narrative pause; making the bigger picture of the combined flash fictions less narrative arc and more narrative mosaic; bringing white spaces to the page after each interior narrative ending, therefore foregrounding emptiness and silence so they become an integral part of the story-telling. Then, I’m then going to write an essay about what I find out. Should be pretty interesting.

Seems to me I’ve been having quite the accidental learning time over the last few weeks. I’d never have thought about doing this essay without having started the poster, and I’d never have known about medieval veggies without the gone-greenhouse. Really does make you think about knowledge, its acquisition and perpetuation. Hardly anyone knows about novella-in-flash let alone what ‘in-flash’ storytelling is, and though everyone used to know about medieval veggies, practically no-one does anymore. It’s like there’s a hierarchy of well-known stuff that if it becomes too generally accepted, pushes other alternatives out of existence. I’m starting to think that might be the case with creative writing too. Short stories that don’t comply with long-accepted shapes very often don’t get published. They need a narrative arc with rising action, a crisis, a climax to be thought of as any good. And you have to have a character who changes or goes on a transformational journey. Well work ‘in-flash’ very often doesn’t do these things. I wonder if that’s why writers don’t give it a go? Maybe ‘in-flash’ writing’s face don’t fit the current publishing industry, that wants cliff hangers and page turners and nothing all that new. Maybe ‘in-flash’ writing is a bit like forgotten crops – not able to thrive in the face of big business and profits. It’s defo a thought.

Home again, home again

Ended up not blogging yesterday because I was proper cream-crackered after grand-folking in Sidcup and also because I got home so late. It took an hour and a half to get to the Dartford tunnel and longer still to get back from there due to jams on the M11. Roads are such a nightmare in and out of London. Proper wish the trains ran better and to time. Anyhow back in the garden now, post book publication day and it’s been a joy looking online seeing copies of Hostile Environments out in the wild. Thanks to everyone who posted pics on Facebook and Bluesky – so lovely to see them. Here’s three,

I’m also very much looking forward to the launch event on Zoom on Thursday night, when I’ll be answering questions about the book and reading a couple of the stories. My author copies were waiting when I got back from Sidcup – here’s the vid of me opening them. I know it’s passe to do vids of book openings but I give no shits about any of that because for me it’s all joy and I worked really hard on this wee beaut and so am going to wring every last joyful memory out of it. So look away if it’s too self indulgent and skip ahead to plant of the day.

Hostile Environments safely home

Plant of the Day is cosmos as pictured above which is usually more than just these feathery ferny foliages. It’s usually masses and masses of gorgeous white flowerheads too (I always grow white ones though they come in many other colours too.) If you look really closely at the photo at the start of this blog, you can see one single flower finally starting to form. This lack of flowers had flummoxed me as its never happened before in any of the other years I’ve grown them so I set to googling to find out the answer. Turns out it’s to do (indirectly) with the globe courgette I mentioned earlier in the week. Cosmos it transpires, likes sparse conditions and poor soil and I’ve been feeding its courgette-y neighbour, and using the same (enriched) water on the cosmos saplings which has encouraged the foliage growth and disinclined the flower formation. I’ve rectified the mistake now and the first wee flower was open when I got home last night. I do love the foliage though – its so so pretty – like a sort of green mesh feathering which, from the place I’m sitting right now, looks lovely behind a pot of white violas. It’s fab to add to little arrangements I put indoors too – lasts for ages and sets off the electric pink sweetpeas a treat. Reet – was going to pap on next about contrast in storytelling and how sometimes stories take their own unexpected directions and do surprising things, but will enlarge tomorrow, as my youngest son – bang on theme – just unexpectedly rocked home from London (en route to going to Oslo tomorrow) – so off to chat to him now. More on surprise turns in storytelling tomorrow then.

When Shape and Blank Space are Storytelling Too

Day three of my week of blogs then to celebrate publication day for Hostile Environments (tomorrow) and today’s plant of the day is the globe courgette which you can see growing here in a pot on me patio outside the writing shed. I’ve never grown a cucurbit in a pot before – they usually go into the ground in beds as they get so big, and I’ve never grown globe courgettes before this year at all. Never saw one before this year in fact, and now they seem to be everywhere – happen someone hybridised them last summer and are knocking the seeds out cheap. The cucurbit family which includes pumpkins, cucumbers, melons and all manner of gourds is very easy to hybridise – in fact if you gather then keep the seeds from year to year, you never know what you’ll get the following summer. They have male and female flowers that are fertilised by flies that spread the pollen. No fertilisation and the fruits just stay small and drop off, fertilised and they swell into whatever. I planted these globe courgettes in a pot because I forgot to label them as seeds in the greenhouse and wasn’t sure what fruit they would yield until they started to appear and was pleasantly surprised when they became these lovely shiny deep green beauties. They are very good for stuffing and roasting – even the skin in crispy delicious done in the air fryer. What I didn’t expect when growing them, was the early advent of the wee cyclamen underneath. These gorgeous pinky petals usually only poke through much later in the year, bringing showers of pink and red and white to garden as the days start to darken. I’m thinking maybe the shadow cast by the huge green zucchini leaves tricked them into thinking it’s October and so out they popped – and they look so lovely there like a younger, sibling basking in the protective shade of their older sister – which lead me to thinking, on this book-publication-day eve, how stories can change depending on where they are placed inside a book and how they are set on the page. Flash fiction of all the prose forms is the one most aware of how it exists as a form or a shape I reckon. Not always though – sometimes a great flash is a great story written in the (brief) form of a story with a beginning, a middle and an end (in that order). But so often it’s not. So often flash sits on the page aware of the page – like a poem does, making its shape part of the story telling even. In recent times this sort of flash has been called hermit crab flash because – well you can see why – because hermit crabs borrow their shells – but I like the term hybrid flash better because quite often non-conformist flash fictions don’t borrow a shape , they are the shape. The storytelling, the beating heart of the story – its life and soul comes from the shape – it’s not an afterthought or tacked on afterwards. Here’s one of my flash fictions that does what I just described. How it sits on the page, the blank spaces in between the words even, the pause and moments of quiet, the emptiness are all part of the intrinsic storytelling. And so too is the juxtaposition of the form and story which at once jar against each other and meld together – a bit like the lovely cyclamen and the huge courgettes – strange but satisfying flower bed fellows. But before you read it – I just remembered that, yet again I’ve not mentioned that bloody PhD application thang I’ve been banging on about for three days now. Tomorrow it will have to be…

How To Keep The Hunger At Bay

By Jan Kaneen

  1. Preheat oven to 180 degrees then go pick apples. In the wet’s best, on the darkest day of autumn, when everything smells of mold and mushrooms and the garden looks like rust and cinders. But don’t let the fruit ruin waiting for perfection.
  2. Stand under gnarled branches catching raindrops, marveling at how young the skin on your palm looks, not like the windfallen wrinkles everywhere else.
  3. Place apples in appropriate receptacle. I use a trug made from sheets of birch. It’s got a long flat bottom so the apples lie side-by-side without bruising when I hurry down garden to get out of the weather.
  4. Wipe fruit carefully so skins shine like wintery cheeks, like Georgy’s used to when he came inside for a warm on snowy days and the stove was lit.
  5. Don’t peel. A little skin will give the edges a ruddy tinge, and anyway, it’s good for you – full of roughage and it makes your hair curl – least that’s what I always told him when he used to pull his face.
  6. Slice into cored crescents that look like rose petals and place into buttered tart dish. I arrange mine in circular swirls that coil inward and make a pattern that looks like forever.
  7. Make caramel by heating butter and sugar. Most recipes say not to stir but I do because that’s the bit he loved best – standing on his three-legged stool at the cooker in his Winnie-the-Pooh apron, watching the crystals dissolve into liquid gold, like alchemy.
  8. Add four pinches of cinnamon. One for mummy, one for daddy and two for Georgy, then a squeeze of lemon. An edge of sharpness is necessary to cut through the syrup.
  9. Pour over apples then take block of shop-bought pastry from fridge. This is a matter of preference of course, so feel free to adapt to personal circumstance, but forty-odd years of following this recipe has taught me life’s too short for homemade rough-puff.
  10. Roll thin and place on top of apples, tucking in edges like a child’s blanket, then bake for fifty minutes.
  11. As scent of caramelized apples creeps like yesterday into warm kitchen, pour a glass of something lovely and remember – when you planted the sapling a lifetime ago, when it meant nothing and you were so impossibly numb-and-sensitive-at-the-same-time you couldn’t feel anything though everything still managed to hurt – opening your eyes, birdsong, hearing your own name… and a year later when you finally scattered ashes round the reedy stem… and the year after that, harvesting the first crop.
  12. Smile or cry. It doesn’t matter which.
  13. Take tart from oven and cool, but not too much. Grief, hope, love, remembrance – all are dishes best served warm.
  14. Eat as many slices as you need, savouring every last bitter-sweet mouthful until you’re so tip-top full to the brim you think you’ll never be able to manage another bite.
  15. Take another bite.

When Rejection is not Rejection

So, here is the second of my all-week blogs to celebrate publication day for my new collection Hostile Environments on Thursday. Exciting news, copies are now winging their way to people who pre-ordered, so that’s good and today’s plant of the day is cuckoo pint or lords and ladies, or snakes head, or bobbins, or starch root or naked boys or adders meat or adders root or friars cowl or Adam and Eve or arum maculatum. I love a plant with many names – it speaks of loads of uses and/or an interesting appearance, or the ability to tweak human imagination. Where I come from in Bolton it was always called cuckoo pint so that’s the name I’ll stick to here. Above is a little photo (not from my garden) of the plant before the berries form which is meant to look like male and female genitalia (thus the lords and ladies and Adam and Eve names). I can just about see it at a stretch. Not sure about the derivation of the other names though would LOVE to know the adder-ish ones which must be lost in time. If anyone knows please fill me in, or maybe make up an origin story? The only other cuckoo pint name I do know the origin of is starch root – thus called by nuns in the sixteenth century who ran laundries. They used to dig it up and boil the root to extract the starch which was good for stiffening ruffs when such neck gear was all the rage amongst the rich and powerful. Cuckoo pint grows all over the wooded parts of my garden and though loads of folk think of it as a weed – a poisonous weed at that – I love them. They speak of stories and old wives tales, and folklore lost in time. And they really come into their own in winter when those red red berries shine like Yule lights in the long dark days and, though the berries are poisonous to humans – not so with birds, to whom they provide an important source of wintry nutrition. It’s funny how things can come into their own, in different times and places. Like my wee story Bagsy Blobsy No Back answers. I wrote this story way back in 2016, about my childhood, growing up in the 70s. I sent it to various mags and comps where it got rejected and/or long-listed nowhere. I rewrote it and it longlisted but didn’t shortlist in Flash 500. I then placed it into my memoir-in-flash, The Naming of Bones which was published in 2021. I read it (and other stories) at the online, in-covid lockdown launch in April 2021 and was overwhelmed by the love this story got. I then read it on BBC radio Cambridgeshire where they played it multiple times, so much did people enjoy its summertime nostalgia.

In 2024 I entered it for the brilliant South Warwickshire Lit Fest flash creative non-fiction comp – here’s a link to their site https://www.southwarwickshireliteraryfestival.com/

(you can enter published stories into this comp which I highly recommend as they are a friendly, lovely lot and do brilliant feedback as well as inviting winners to read at the event) and you guessed it – it won! So you know – stories can have afterlives and futures and other incarnations that you might not think they’d have – and rejections are just steps on the road to that magical moment of acceptance.

Just realised I haven’t mentioned the PhD application I said I’d write about today in yesterday’s blog. Guess it’ll have to wait till tomorrow then, but in the meantime, here’s me reading Bagsy Blobsy no Back Answers, the recording from that first book launch. https://youtu.be/GbKiP_DziQo