Friday, 21 January 2011

The English Patient – Michael Ondaatje





Link
The English Patient flows like Almasy’s unchartered deserts, with bumps and beauty and mystery. It centres around a collection of nations, a small group of survivors, shell-shocked and living in an Italian villa.

Ever strong is the presence of nature – as if no human can escape it. Even the winds have names.

Marvellously structured, The English Patient delves through history and stories are strong. Beautiful and lyrical. A blend of love and memory. The flawless deliverance of the story make it vivid, sacred.

I like it especially because it talks about writing and books and Django Deinhardt.




‘She had come to love these books dressed in their Italian spines, the frontispieces, the tipped-in colour illustrations with a covering of tissue, the smell of them, even the sound of the crack if you opened them too fast, as if breaking some minute unseen series of bones.’ 


Saturday, 15 January 2011

Elder



Hill and hill and scab and scale, the hide that reaches,
gropes for the sun, lean-to, winter death.
Fingers alive caress the contours of bark,
and feel its dryness, cracked,
flaking skin flakes away in hand.
How things have burrowed,
 biting blind,
 revealing ruddy flesh,
 sand-red, moist dripping.
Spurts of white flower in sunlight – spring.
Black bitter things bunch - the year is old, and the tree dies,
bare and corroded, consumed and spent.
This is the tree of life.
This is the tree of death.
Was its beginning placed by hands
or had it already been there?
 Some say it is there as a warning for witches,
a warding of witches,
though fairies crawl
through wood-worm cast to sit in fleshy self.
I sat on it. I sat in a cheating card-board wood house on it,
painting life and plaiting string.
My castle.
A house.  
Insect menagerie, they come and go as they please.
That was when the tree was strong, pre-amputation,
before the earth shifted and set its angle.
In the summer my tree is my water,
I drink what is left of the season. I drink the sun.    
Savour every drop. A year is too long.
In autumn my tree grows berries of pearl black,
 bunches where the white should be, will be.
 In winter the tree is a dead thing.
Wood-worm cast. Exposed and exceptional, my tree.
The tree of life, the tree of death,
witch-ward, wood-wormed, child-play.
 At the bottom of my garden,
garden guarding.
My tree.
My elder tree. 




Sunday, 9 January 2011

A Place Beyond Courage - Elizabeth Chadwick


‘Dex ai! Dex ai le MarĂ©chal!’


That is the powerful battle cry that John Marshall’s troops echo across the fields to the rising of the make-shift gallows for the young William Marshall. It’s rousing, and your heart really goes out to that small boy who is fated to swing. A blend of tense drama and solid feelings resonate throughout the novel, which makes A Place Beyond Courage great.

It is formed as a prequel to The Greatest Knight, one of my favourite Chadwick books. It tells the story of William’s father, John, and his struggles within the court, the civil war, and his home. We are presented with the annoyingly pathetic Aline, and the strong and sexy Sybilla. Chadwick is a master of romance – it is exciting, it is meaningful, and the novel is not all about love – it is fused at every point with accurate research and a love for the medieval period.

I found it incredibly difficult not to read, and when I wasn’t reading it, I was thinking about it. John’s face gets ruined by molten lead but we learn to look beyond that and into his heart. You are there throughout his life, through war and children. If anyone wants to gain an insight into medieval life, Chadwick is definitely the way to go. She’s very god at developing and moving the plot on, as is proved by the fact that the novel spans 23+ years, and all of that covered in about 500 pages.

However, within all of Chadwick’s characters (I have read about six of her novels now) there are similar qualities. The protagonists are always sexy, young, beautiful, strong. This is the same for Sybilla and John. It is like Chadwick is just re-using characters from her other books but giving them a different name. She also has a tendency to repeat phrases, for example, ‘the ladder fell with its heavy burden of men’ was repeated more than once.

I admire Chadwick’s love for the period and the want to discover the character’s history and really bring to life the stories. She has an amazing blog which she regularly updates about her research into her books.

I would like to read The Greatest Knight again. It is certainly one of my favourites of hers – knights, jousting, and if I were to meet William Marshall in real life, I would fancy the pants off of him. 




Thursday, 6 January 2011

Robinson Crusoe - Would You Hire This Man?



Robinson Crusoe - Daniel Defoe


I read Daniel Defoe's Robinson Crusoe as a companion to my studies in Postcolinal Literature to Foe by J.M. Coetzee, which I actually enjoyed a whole lot more. 

I did like the sense of adventure and marvelled at his seemingly endless survival skills, but this sometimes seemed ridiculously far-fetched. I can’t say I was gripped by the book. I think this was because of the style Defoe is writing it in. Lots of parenthesis, too many commas. The ease he suddenly tames Friday. But it is a book of its time and I suppose I can see why people in the 17th Century would find it so attractive. High tales of adventure and cannibals! I wish I had made a list as I went along of all the skills Crusoe happens to have. I have tried to remember as many as I can in the following CV. Why a CV? Because Crusoe has a ridiculous amount of skills and if he were to explain them fully it would take up a whole novel. 

Oh, wait a second. 



Robinson Crusoe - CV

Practical and optimistic ordinary young Englishman, with a variety of practical skills, who is a devote follower of His word, and an amiable slave master, looking to flourish as an adventurer.


http://www.videodetective.com/movie_trailer/ROBINSON_CRUSOE/trailer/P00926981.htm

Practical skills
·         Basket weaver
·         Baker
·         Boat-builder
·         Chef
·         Tanner
·         Seamstress
·         Potter
·         Lumberjack
·         Goatsheard
·         Home maker
·         Navigator
·         Miner
·         Architect
·         Vintner
·         Farmer
      ·         Marksman 

 Special skills
·         Slave-driver – I fancied myself a companion, in the form of a slave, whom I began to speak to, and teach him to speak to me; and first, made him know his name should be Friday, which was the day I saved his life.
·         Tutor – I made it my business to teach him (Friday, so above mentioned slave and companion) everything that was proper and useful, and especially to make him speak, and understand me when I spoke.
·         Killer – have killed at least ten natives, and at least five Englishmen
·         God-fearing – believes heartily in Providence and reads the Bible every day.

·         Survivor
 



References – available on request. 



Talking about hiring vagrants and castaways, check out this dude.

Take note of the link beneath the pictures and watch the trailer, it's fricken hilarious. There's a skull in a wig!!

http://www.videodetective.com/movie_trailer/ROBINSON_CRUSOE/trailer/P00926981.htm




A book a week?!

I don’t particularly have any New Years resolutions – instead, I reflected on what was crap about 2010, mainly me being horrifically lazy and not taking opportunities when they were laid before me on a silver platter, and so deciding that I wouldn’t repeat that again in 2011. This is set to be a busy year, if I put my mind to it. But if I had one New Years resolution it is this: to read one book a week. I have designated shelf-space with ‘to read’ books on it and currently I have 28 books on it, not to mention all the books in Bath I’ve been picking up, and all those crumbly books I’ve been drooling over on here. A book a week. That is what is expected of me at least! Especially if I want to re-read my favourite series this summer, including Temeraire, Twilight, Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter. I usually make a point of reading all of Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings but alas that didn’t happen in 2010. Here’s to 2011, a year of books!

This Christmas holiday I’ve been a tad lazy. I told myself I should read at least three books. Well, actually I did finish three books, but since two of them have been on the go since September, it doesn’t really count. I will review two of those books in the next couple of posts.

p.s. I'm also aiming to write a blog entry a week, so if I stick to this book-a-week idea I should have endless amounts of material to write about. 

Saturday, 25 December 2010

A Wight Christmas


I will use up the time of waiting for Doctor Who to write a post.


I had rather a good haul in regards to Christmas presents this year. I didn’t ask for anything so it was a lovely surprise to get what I did, including some useful things from ‘Father Christmas’ (a cookie jar shaped like a cup cake, don’t know how it’s going to fit in my kitchen!) and some very pretty things from various family members, including a book journal from my brother (I’m thinking about recording books I have made as well as ones I have read, maybe print pictures off of them) and a Quarr Abbey teddy bear with a monk’s hood from my aunty and a lovely bag from my other aunty.
 
This year, books featured as a popular present. (In fact, we probably exchange books every year, though last year I didn’t get any, a point which saddened me a lot) From my Granny I got another couple of her old books, one in French, Odes D’Anacreon with fabulous marble end-papers.


Here is a rather gorgeously crumbly Scripture Characters Being a Practical Exposition or The Histories And Events Contained in the Holy Scriptures, For the Edification of Youth. Unfortunately neither have dates in but we can probably guess from the long title that the latter is quite old.


 
Aunty came up top trumps with the delightful Sybil’s Book from which I found this quote: “ ‘Well, Poppy, this was quite an adventure,’ her father declared. ‘...it must have been the most romantic situation in the world. A haunted tree, no tea, and then to lose your way!’ ” my collection of old children’s books is steadily growing.



Not only did I receive old books, but I gave them, too – my parents are embarking on a cruise next summer on the boat and requested coastal cruising books. I picked up one of the Country Coast Series of The Norfolk and Suffolk Coast, which dates back to 1909, for my father, a few old medieveil history books for my brother (including a fabulous pop-up-shipwreck book, he loves it)



I made a book for my other aunty, one I couldn’t wait to post up on here, because I am so proud of it. And another book that Father Christmas hasn’t delivered to my friend yet.  


 



Just a note to Bayntuns to say thanks for the history books as the recently deceased Whitemans where I found the coastal book. I found the pop-up book in my local pub for 50p. Do you know who else likes pop-up books? Emerson Cod. He also loves knitting. 

http://www.thepiemaker.com/chi-mcbride-knows-knitting/


 ‘It's a pain in the ass, though. You know, I learned it, and I can stitch one stitch, which is great, so I can make a scarf that will reach from here to the moon. But that's the one thing about the strike — that knitting, man. It's not like riding a bike. It just doesn't come back.’

Friday, 17 December 2010

Obituary

Rooke Books

Yesterday I completed my Christmas shopping so as a treat, I thought I’d go to Rooke Books to have a gander.

I was shocked and appalled when I found that it had changed into some craft shop. I actually had to do a double take when I saw instead of a beautiful display of crumbling covers there were some cushions and ribbons in the window. Let’s just say I was not amused.

I pressed my face up to the window and peered in. There was no-one in there, luckily, if there were I would have demanded why the hell had the bookshop disappeared. There was a half eaten baguette on the half completed countertop but no sign of people.


http://scrapiana.com/tag/rooke-books/
Let me tell you about Rooke Books. It was a delightful store, spanning four floors with friendly staff and old windy staircases that looks like they came straight from my grandparent’s old house. A bell jangled gaily over your head, and immediately in front of you, a book case full to the brim of old books, often with ‘recommended this week’ and other such handwritten, friendly signs. Down the windy staircase and you came upon history, America, war and religion. Several of the volumes were held together with elastic bands because the spines have deteriorated so much. At my fingertips lay words over a hundred years old, read by so many, loved by so many. Up the next flight of stairs your attention is caught by the huge white egg chair in the corner of the room, perfect for poor bored boyfriends of bibliofreaks or restless children.

http://scrapiana.com/tag/rooke-books/
On a round table in the centre some books, including Hornblower and the Atropos. This floor was dedicated to literary criticism and fiction. I drooled over a copy of Andrew Lang’s Red Book of Animal Stories but it was about £25 so maybe a little too much into my student purse. Up another flight of stairs (all characteristically uneven and generally amazing) and you are greeted with some modern flock wall paper, and hanging ‘bubble’ chairs, which make your voice go funny and swing around noisily if you’re too eager. On this floor they had travel, art, sport, science. All in all, it was an amazing shop.

I lamented the loss of such a fantastic shop. All those books, all that knowledge. But the shop was open merely last week – what the hell had happened?

So with an angry determination I strode into Bayntuns and took a customary look around the second-hand section in the basement (which is just equally as amazing, brought various Christmas presents there) and then began my investigatory work. I asked Jeremy Peters, the manager of the shop and bindery, what was going on. He said to me that he had only been there last week and there wasn’t any sign of the shop disappearing. Nothing. Not even a notice in the now-craft-shop window about it moving. He told me that booksellers usually talk to one another quite often but Rooke Books had kept quiet. He told me he had the strong suspicion that not even the staff knew that it was going to happen. I told him it was such a shame, and then talked to him about bookbinding, (just because I really want to work in Bayntuns) and the other shops that have closed down recently, which I will go on to now.

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Whitemans Bookshop

Just around the corner from Bayntuns another bookshop is now empty. I only went in there a couple of times, the first time a few weeks ago, but I regret not going there more often. They had a lot of posters and other free literature on the counter (there was a poster of the Harry Potter series, I should have asked if I could nab it) and a whole variety of books, but mainly travel, and trains. So many books about trains, it was crazy. I found a 100 year old book for a Christmas present there and my brother found several editions of a marine-archaeology journal. The shelves were disorganised and mainly empty, it seemed like the management had just given up. I think a little digging would have produced even more delightful volumes for a cheap price. Alas, I only discovered it on the verge of it’s termination.

The Bath Book Exchange

This shop has been closed a while now but you can still walk by it and see tons of books stacked within it’s dark interior. I gleaned from  Jeremy Peters that ‘an old boy and his wife’ used to run the bookstore. When she died, he kept it going, and it kept him going. I must have been in there only once. The bookshop was really a mish-mash of  new books and old books, genres squashed together. It was just one small room. You were greeted by a great bell over the door and the smiling figure of the bent over ‘old boy’. ‘The only thing I have against him,’ Jeremy said, ‘is that he shouldn’t have painted the shop front that nasty colour.’ (Although Gerge Bayntun, however posh it is, is missing the 'orge' in the name on the front of the building) I wish I had gone there more often, there were probably several delights to be found.


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So alas, there is now only two second hand bookshops in Bath, excluding all the charity shops, nd the great paperbacks shop in the guildhall. they don't have the crumbly books, that great, 'old' museum smell. The best charity shop for books is the one near the Yellow Shop, they have a vast collection of nearly everything, but nothing compares to the amazing atmosphere in a good old bookshop.

The shops have disappeared. So where are the books? Have they been confined to a rubbish heap? (When I worked as a volunteer at Dorothy House Care books had to be sent off to another country somewhere in Asia to be recylcled, here, they just throw them in the rubbish heap) I worry about the fate of those books.

EDIT: I emailed Rooke Books and here's thier reply:

Thank you for your e-mail. The shop closed down last week. 
 
It was quite sudden and happened very quickly. 
 
We hope to open another shop in the future when the economic
climate is more amiable. 
 
Some of the books should make their way onto our website, 
which is updated regularly with new stock. 
 
I am sorry that you did not have the opportunity to have 
a browse before the shop closed. 
 
I hope you have a nice Christmas and New Year.
Best wishes, 
 
Milly
 
For Rooke Books
 
 
I'm sorry Milly, but this is not satisfactory.