Margaret Rose Stringer is one of the first bloggers I chose to ‘follow’. Right away I loved her blogging style and eventually I discovered she had written a book – she is not shy about self-promotion. While others set up their author platform and follow the guidelines about being too pushy, Margaret Rose (aka M-R) goes ahead and does what she likes and says what she thinks.
In fact, on her website, she has changed the tagline of her novel back from the publisher’s A Memoir to her own original pre-publication tag of Still and Moving Pictures, so don’t get confused if you should decide to get hold of a copy for yourself.
I must have said something sensible during a comment on one of her posts because – I am unable to fathom why – M-R added my blog to the 30 days/ 30 blogs challenge she had set herself, resulting in an unsurpassed spike in my stats. Her action was stunning to me because she is the most awful snob when it comes to intelligence.
I had already picked up on that before I decided to buy her book. In it, I discovered her obstinate refusal to suffer fools has led to some interesting asides in her memoir.
M-R writes honestly and intimately about her soul mate and husband – Charles ‘Chic’ Stringer – one of the Australian film industry’s most respected stillsmen. She speaks of their 31 years together, and remains determined to do all she can to keep her husband’s memory alive. He remains the other half of herself.
But I found this story more than the sum of her relationship with Chic. We get to see inside M-R, herself, as she reveals her first 31 years. She speaks disarmingly of abandonment, love, death, and how her mind works, often not in her favour.
M-R’s closing words: of the day after seeing Chic on TV, shooting stills for Grundy’s, in a movie about ABBA in Australia.
Three all-too-brief times I saw him in the mêlée surrounding the Swedes – always with one of his cameras in his hands, looking for a position in the ongoing madness.
There was no grief; only unutterable joy at the sight of him – young, beautiful, professional …
He was the most exciting person I have ever known.
I found ‘And Then Like My Dreams’ honest, funny, revealing, passionate, even slightly shocking, but always entertaining. I smiled, I cried, I was appalled, my mouth dropped open, I giggled, I cried again and thought surely my heart would break for these two people I have never met.
Above all, I was entertained.