Leaf Arbuthnot’s Looking for Eliza is a beautifully tender story that has human connection at its core. The universality of the importance of relationships is the thread that runs through it, whether it’s the warm hearted Ada or open minded Eliza, both are looking for something.

I found the read pacy, exciting, and fascinating. A delicate touch on deep psychological yearnings and the human condition.

I spoke to Leaf to learn more.

Where did the idea for Looking For Eliza come from?

Japan, strangely enough. A few years ago I heard that people there were making money from pretending to be someone’s girlfriend, wife, friend, dad. It struck a chord. While materially a lot of us aren’t lacking, I think many of us are suffering from emotional deficits. We’re lonely. I wanted to explore how it might feel to sell your time and personality and attention, in an intimate way that doesn’t involve sex. I didn’t want to set my story in Japan as I’ve not been and I also wanted to probe Englishness. So I came up with the idea of an older woman who lives in Oxford and decides to set up a business where she rents herself out as a gran, after her husband dies. Once Ada had come to me (more or less wholesale as she is in the book) other characters slinked up too, most notably Eliza.

Who is looking for Eliza? Is it Ada trying to find friendship? Eliza trying to find herself?

For readers who’ve not read the book: Eliza is my younger character, who’s 25 and doing a PhD. She lives opposite Ada, who’s a poet in her seventies and who starts the ‘rent-a-gran’ business after her husband dies. Both characters are quietly questing, as I see it. Eliza’s had her heart trashed by a former girlfriend. She and Ruby had a long relationship, and Eliza is now having to find out how to be alone as an adult. It’s something I’ve had to do in my life: when you de-extricate from someone you love, you can find that the muscles you once relied on to stand up straight by yourself have weakened. So Eliza is trying to work out who she is, or who she can be, in her own right. There’s a chapter I loved writing in which she basically tries everything: casual sex, art, religion, whatever to make herself feel whole. 

As for Ada, I see her as not realising, for quite some time after the death of her husband, that she needs to continue to develop as a person. She has had the most magnificent marriage, and quite a rich life though not one full of achievements. But she learns after Michael’s death that she can’t just lead the same life she was leading before minus him. She needs to take charge and act to enrich her life again. She needs friends, basically. I’ve been interested for a long time in how friendships multiply or die off – too many older people I know have failed to keep friendships alive, often for legit reasons (they were busy having kids for instance). Ada eventually realises she needs other people; solitude isn’t feasible forever. 

What do you think intergenerational friendships offer that friendships of people of a similar age don’t?

Perspective mainly. Older people tend to take a longer view and can encourage younger friends to see the wood for the trees. My grandmother is 100 and I’ve found talking to her over the years to be immensely reassuring. For someone who has lived since 1919, as she has, there are few problems you can take to her that she views as insurmountable or even significant. Generally I also think that friendships across generations are often less encumbered by envy, rivalry, longing and judgement. You’re at different stages in your life. One of my closest friends is a man in his mid sixties – my parents’ age – and while we don’t see eye to eye on almost anything (particularly politics) there’s a shared sense of humour there that’s precious to me. 

Obviously friendships with people of a similar age are important. I would be nowhere without my cohort of friends; the pandemic has underlined that over and over. But I don’t think we invest in intergenerational friendships enough in Britain, or take them seriously. In fact often young people are shown boating in to telephone vulnerable lonely oldies, which I understand is important, but can underemphasise how much they stand to gain from that connection.

There’s some beautifully romantic – and sensual – passages as Eliza falls in love, sleeps with people, and discovers women she fancies. You don’t often read about lesbian or bisexual relationships, even in our enlightened times. Why do you think this is?

Thank you, I’m slightly bemused to report that the “sex scenes” in the book – if you can call them that – were among my favourite bits to write. I’ve tried to work out why, and I think it’s because sex is such a strange and dramatic experience that it was therapeutic to try to work it out on the page. I could have made it more explicit but I didn’t think the passages needed that. 

It’s true that lesbian and bisexual love and sex still doesn’t get much of a showing in mainstream novels. Too often I think same-sex love is ushered into the rainbow corner. I think authors who are straight are probably now a little wary of writing same-sex relationships for fear of appropriation. There’s also a deficit of experience that they probably baulk at. And other challenges arise with it. If you’re writing say a story about a family, by making the parents two women or two men, you might as a writer feel the need to address the unusualness of that dynamic. The book could be dismissed as some LGBTQ+ story. I can see writers not wanting to clutter up their tale with those questions and concerns.

But for me, Eliza meandered over as a bisexual young woman so that’s how she stayed in the book. I didn’t feel the need to get too entangled in a discussion about her sexuality. It does come up though, because Ada, in her seventies, can’t help but be fascinated by Eliza’s sexuality. I think it’s normal for people of an older generation to be gripped by the sexual proclivities of the young, to stress about them choosing their own gender, etc, and I wanted to probe that. 

You’re a literary critic. Does close reading of other books help inform your writing?

Absolutely. There are two strands to this question, I guess. Firstly there’s my work as a book critic, which is vital to my writing because I’ve been reading contemporary stuff forensically for years now, and have been able to work out what I like and what I don’t. But the more important strand here is my reading generally. I read pretty widely (novels and poetry, I have to force myself to read non-fiction). I find there is a horrifyingly direct relationship between what I read and what I write. If I’m not reading interesting nourishing books, I’m not writing anything worth the word doc it’s typed on. Reading novels and poetry is the foundation of my work as a writer. I am baffled by novelists who don’t read. If you’re a non-fiction author it’s a slightly different thing.

Here are a few tips:

1. Marketing isn’t a dirty word. Chances are that if you’ve written something, you want people to read it or hear it. It doesn’t have to be about making money. Marketing should be a fundamental part of your plan to develop your writing carer.
2. Have a website. It’s the first place people will come to find out about you. Make it clear who you are, what you do, the work you’ve done, and how people can get in touch. Have extracts of your work, links to buy your books, videos of your performances, and reviews or endorsements.
3. Get active on social media – but don’t try to do everything. Commit to a couple of platforms and post consistently and regularly. Make sure it’s not all promotional – connect with others, join conversations, and share posts. Aim for 70% engagement and 30% promotion.
4. Write for other blogs or magazines about things that are tangentially related to your work. Written historical fiction – position yourself as an expert on that period of history? Overcome adversity? Maybe people want to read about that. Not everything has to be overtly about pushing your book.
5. Think about building a writer brand, and see your work and performances as part of that. Don’t just pop up when you’ve got a book to plug, but see individual activities as part of the bigger campaign.

I raced through Hina Belitz’s To Lahore, With Love. But I didn’t love it. The book feels confused. Is it literary fiction, chick lit, or a recipe book? Not that a novel needs to fit neatly into a genre, but it does need to be consistent. All the tropes of a compelling piece of commercial fiction are there. There’s a complicated upbringing, an earth shattering secret, and broken promises. But you’re never really drawn in enough.

The relationship between Addy and her Nan is sweet, and the way that she writes rapturously about food glorious. Belitz’s first book Sofia Kahn is not Obliged was far more compelling. I’m sure it will do brilliantly in the summer reads rounds up. It just didn’t rock my world.

I had a chat with Hina to learn more about her writing and the book.

Is To Lahore With Love based on your own story and upbringing?

Yes! To Lahore With Love is based on the story of my life and upbringing, although it is a fictional version, so a number of things are different. It follows of the story of how protagonist, Addy Mayford, a mixed-race girl struggles with being different and not fitting in, and how she finds happiness, only to have it all stripped away in one earth shattering moment. It also explores how the trials in her life open her up to other ways of seeing the world. Addy Mayford challenges her beliefs about how we go about meeting our soulmate. Is there a right and a wrong way? I’ve been watching the current Netflix series Love Is Blind, presently Number 2 on Netflix, and there are a number of parallels between To Lahore With Love and that show.

The thread of the story that follows my own life was featured in Guardian Family and my interview by Morgan Freeman in The Story Of Us With Morgan Freeman (by National Geographic).

Stories, food, and faith – why are these so central to your book and to Addy?

What a great question! These themes are so central to the book because they represent the gifts I have received from the strong women who have been a part of my life, particularly my mother and grandmother. I see food as a bridge to other cultures and my mother was an epic cook who expressed her love for us through her cookery. I recall how in my childhood, I genuinely felt healed after one of mum’s meals. To Lahore With Love explores this idea further with the protagonist Addy Mayford believing that her food can actually change a person’s mind. I tragically lost my mother a few years ago and so including the recipes was a great way to immortalise a small part of her forever.

My grandmother was a great storyteller reminiscent of the ancient storytelling of Scherhezade in the Arabian nights. The story Nana tells Addy in To Lahore With Love is a real one my grandmother actually told me. Yes, she believed she had a Djinn lover! I made a connection between the idea of compelling stories that save lives and life changing meals. So, Addy Mayford is a sort of Scherhezade of the cookery world!

Faith, (by which I mean trusting that there is meaning to everything), has always been a central part of my life and for this reason I wanted it to become a part of Addy’s journey through the novel. I have always been amazed at how healing a small shift in mindset can be. And that requires faith. An example is the expression, ‘what hits you was never going to miss you, what misses you was never going to hit you.’ Believing these words is an act of faith which can give enormous relief from stress and anxiety. Sometimes a small phrase can blow you away. The Nietzsche quote at the opening of the novel is an example. It highlights how much suffering arises because we not open to the idea that what happens to us may be the best thing for us, even if it doesn’t seem that way. I think that the Nietzsche’s quote embodies the idea of faith beautifully.

Do you think we see enough characters from diverse backgrounds in English literature?

I do not believe we see enough characters from diverse backgrounds in English literature and for this reason I am passionate about writing such characters and hopefully as a result helping to normalise Asian stories. It is important to me that Addy Mayford is a cross-cultural and multi-religious. I want her to be relatable to different sectors and communities in the world. I am really interested in the similarities and differences in the outlook people from different cultures have, from the colour foundation they choose to how they deal with adversity.

It’s not enough, though, to just have more characters from diverse backgrounds. We also need to ensure they form part of varied and nuanced storytelling. One of the most damaging things is repeating a single story about a certain group of people because that is exactly how prejudice and bias can form.

What can people take away from your book? What do you hope it helps them consider?

The first thing I hope, the key take away I would like is for people to enjoy To Lahore With Love and connect with Addy Mayford like a friend they wish to keep visiting. If entering into Addy’s world introduces them to notions about people from other cultures and religions that they didn’t have before, that would be wonderful. Ultimately, I hope it helps people consider the great benefits of expanding your mind to understand and embrace any sort of ‘otherness.’

What’s your writing process or routine? Do you plan, pants, follow the character or something else?

My process is very organic. Before starting, I read around the subjects I am writing about and research a fair bit. I do make story plans in gorgeous Italian notebooks I buy from TK Maxx, but I mostly find I abandon them as the novel writing itself begins. I need silence to work and not only zero interuption, but no possibility of interruption, so I often go to the loft in our home or a library, like the Cambridge University Library. I get my best ideas in the shower, which is highly inconvenient, or sometimes in the dead of night when I should be asleep. In the end, it is hard hard work that leads to small openings and ideas which gradually accumulate. I am a real believer in the notion that the brain continues to work when you think you have signed off. And like Addy, I yearn for those moment of Lecto divino, those glimmers of transcendence when in the throes of creation, because when they do come, they are worth every moment of the hard graft involved in creating something original.

Why do writers need to join critique or writing groups?

The answer is simple. Some writers are natural-born writers; however, most of us need a lot of help.

Critique partners help you learn and grow. They ponder over your manuscript for character weaknesses, gaps in the plot, and grammar errors. Their work is invaluable. They push you to be a better writer.

The ideal critique group is made up of writers who are on the same writing level and write in the same genre. Constructive criticism and positive feedback should be the rule of the day. Be kind, but be honest. You should never gloss over poor writing. This is unfair to the other writer. Respect your critique partners. Respect is a two-way street.

Benefits of critique groups:  accountability, bonding, brainstorming, craft, editing, grammar, encouragement, listening skills, inspiration, motivation, learning, and friendship.

Like any relationship, critique groups take on their own character. Select your critique partners with care. Pick a group you’re comfortable with. Set guidelines and stick to them. Be accountable to the process and each other. Everyone has an opinion. You should not change your style of writing, because someone else thinks they know better. It is your story.

Critique groups evolve over time. You can outgrow each other. Perhaps it is time to move on. Be grateful for what you’ve learned. You may decide on a writing partner rather than a group next time. Choose a writing partner whose skills and schedule work well for you.

Writing groups are essential for all levels of writing. A writing group or chapter is networking at its best. A small writing group may foster closer friendships, while a large writing chapter may have more advanced writers for role models. Bottom line–We learn the craft, and we help each other.

Presentations, classes, workshops, and conferences help us learn the craft. Veteran writers who have achieved recognition far and wide can show us how they accomplished their writing goals. We are inspired by their success.

Writing chapters offer classes and workshops that teach us how to improve our craft. We learn by doing. A writer can never take too many classes or attend too many workshops. We can never learn enough about writing.

Writing conferences are great sources of education and networking. Whatever your weakness—characterization, dialogue, point of view, or plot—you can find a program to improve your skills.

Networking at a conference helps make new friends. Be bold. Smile and speak to other attendees. Spending time with other writers can make us better writers.

I attend writing conferences as often as I can. I enjoy meeting new authors, agents, and editors. I hope to see you at a writing conference and talk about that jewel of a book you want to polish and publish soon.

Georgia Stories on My Mind

Come visit Georgia within these pages as you read heartwarming stories shaped by local traditions and legends. The characters live life to the fullest through joys and hardships. Inhale the essence of Georgia’s revitalized small town squares while eating hand- scooped ice cream on a park bench. Each town has its own magic. Sometimes the most real things in life are things we cannot see but those that deeply touch us, as the folks in these tales learn. Share smiles and shed tears as you travel the curving road of life with these Georgia characters. Are you ready for an unforgettable experience of hope, faith, trust, reconciliation, and love?

Out now on Touch Not the Cat Books.

About the Author, Jackie Rod

Jackie Rod is a fiction writer, loving wife of a legal beagle, and mother of three children who has blessed her with seven fantastic grandchildren. After Jackie retired from teaching, her love of words and stories led her to begin writing fiction. Reading and traveling enrich her life and she jumps at the opportunity to teach a workshop or attend a writing conference. She belongs to five writing chapters/groups. Jackie’s work can be found in twelve published books on Amazon, in several Metro Atlanta libraries, and independent bookstores.

It’s all about working out which moments make a life, and how we get to where we are – and crucially, who we are. The controlled yet stream of consciousness style evokes the feeling that you are thinking through the issues with the narrator, who may or may not be Popkey herself (both are Californian natives in their early thirties). ‘I, at twenty-one, did not, had not yet settled on the governing narrative of my life. Had not yet realized the folly of governing narratives,’ she says, and embarks on trying to figure that out. She acknowledges that, like so many women, ‘I have been, that I continue to be, best at being a vessel for the desire of others.’

It’s a biting dissection, and the self consciousness that gleams onto the page sometimes feels selfish, but you get the feeling that’s what she’s aiming for. We are all living our own lives, and it shouldn’t be shocking that sometimes what we want comes first (even when it’s a case of disliking your own child, as one woman reveals). There’s a brilliant line that rings true yet makes the reader feel slightly uncomfortable in its veracity – ‘Isn’t that the test of love? The test of intimacy? The willingness to be cruel and the belief that, the moment of cruelty passed, the love, the intimacy, remains, undamaged.’

Each chapter could stand alone, as it’s more a selection of reflective pieces rather than pacey plot driven novel. Coming of age and discovering yourself can be lonely and difficult, but this brilliant first step from Popkey is a handbook to have onside.

It’s only when Penny arrives on the scene at work that it becomes a real problem. Soon Andrew has to decide whether he’s prepared to lose face to gain love.

Something To Live For by Richard Roper is uplifting and funny, with some really touching moments. It causes you to consider the nature of relationships and the threat of loneliness, as Andrew searches for people’s next of kin and attends the funerals if they don’t have anyone.

Uplit is a big genre these days, and the Headline non-fiction editor was signed by Orion with a six-figure deal within 48 hours of submission.

A smile inducing and warming read.

The tale follows Polly, a 32 year old journalist working in an unfulfilling job for Posh! magazine, and perennially single. Her head is turned by Jasper, a member of the British aristocracy, at the same time as her beloved mother is diagnosed with cancer. One of these things has a better outcome than the other. But everything works out well in the end, as Polly realises what she wants, and seems to get it.

Written in a funny, at times deadpan way, it’s an easy and enjoyable read. Sophia was a features editor at Tatler, so it’s clear where she got some of her ideas from. As well as barely covered digs at some of the things the richest echelons of society get up to, it covers modern relationships, friendships, and life in London with accuracy and attentiveness. The mother daughter relationship is also sensitively portrayed, and one of the book’s highlights.

The novel’s been described as an updated Bridget Jones, but it’s unlikely to be as genre or era defining as that. But Polly is a character to care about, and I found myself wanting to know what happened next, keeping the pages turning. The Plus One is a good, fun, and easy read. Sometimes that’s all you need.

Connelly writes with detail and perception, painting a vivid picture of both the English countryside and the people who live within it. Her research and attention to history is impeccable, and the novel explores an element of the events of the past  that we often forget – real people were involved. The movements we loathe were not all made up of evil people, but ordinary individuals. Phyllis Forrester was just one.

In The Art of Not Falling Apart Christina Patterson, triggered by redundancy from her job at The Independent, explores whether there is an art to keeping calm and carrying on. Through interviews with friends and famous people, she explores not only the media friendly idea of success, but disappointments, and what helps people get through.

It’s a joyously easy read. Christina is a warm and intelligent writer who brings the perfect balance of herself and others into the story. Individual stories are given centre stage, but in the process the book explores how we talk about death, the importance of anger, why we’re scared of single people, and the importance of jobs for our wellbeing.

She talks about the importance of ‘pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will,’ an expression used by Antonia Gramsci. The former means that you realistically assess the world and events, the latter means that you get up and carry on. It’s about having the courage to do difficult things: ‘it means that when your world has fallen apart you get out of bed anyway.’

As hard is life is, it’s important to hold on to those joyous small moments. Christina has a thing for crisps and wine. She writes rapturously about how they’ve been there at some of the best and worst times of her life. But these aren’t guilty pleasures. They are pleasures, the things that make everyday a little celebration of being alive.

Christina has been very lucky. She’s held amazing jobs, owned property in Italy, played a big part in London’s buzzing art scene, travelled round the world, and generally enjoyed middle class niceness. She’s also had a tough time – death of her parents, redundancy from The Telegraph, breast cancer, lupus and acne. No one’s life is perfect. Things don’t always work out how you wanted. They can’t be perfect, but as she says, ‘I’m beginning to learn that it’s sometimes OK just to say ‘I had a nice day.’

Published by Atlantic Books.