So yesterday Clarissa Draper from Listen to the Voices (a really interesting literary/writer's blog) gave me an award for A Book A Day Bookworm. There I was contemplating its future and someone comes along and says they think it's awesome. It was a very nice surprise, so thank you.
I'm supposed to pass it on to some other bloggers. I picked 5 I enjoy reading and relate to on some level.
They are: Melanie from Melanie's Randomness
Sarah Von from Yes and Yes
Melissa Blake at So About What I Said...
Micaela at The Drifter and the Gypsy
Pousserie D'or of A Speck of Dust in an Oyster
Some of these blogs I've been reading for a while, and some I've only recently started following. All of them are written by interesting, engaging bloggers.
I know this award is for my sort-of side project, so that's where it's being displayed, but I thought it was more suitable to blog about here.
Today in the post I got a copy of Pipers at the Gates of Dawn by Jonathan Cott. It's a collection of essays on children's literature writers. I took several CL classes at uni, and almost decided to do my MA on it. However, I've opted for a different course. I still love children's books. I don't care that at 23 I'm supposedly too old for the books I adored growing up. I don't think you're ever too old to love the writing. I defy anyone to look at their bookshelves, or even just remember their favourite books, and not find some written for children in there somewhere.
The Guardian printed a list of great children's books today, edited by the rather brilliant Lucy Mangan, who always makes me laugh. However, in about 5 minutes I came up with a list of books I think they should have included but didn't. These included Peter Pan- J.M Barrie, Alice in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass- Lewis Carroll, The Graveyard Book- Neil Gaiman, Nation- Terry Pratchett, Carrie's War- Nina Bawden, The Wind in the Willows- Kenneth Grahame, Black Beauty- Anna Sewell and several more. I also think a good dose of fairytales, folklore and mythology work brilliantly with a child's growing imagination.
The paper was inspired to start their list because a huge number of children are starting school without ever having been read to at home. This breaks my heart.
I was a weird child, I preferred my printed friends to the other children at school. I didn't fit in, I didn't watch much TV, I didn't listen to pop music. I just liked to read. Or rather, I loved to read. I'd be a different person if I didn't read the way I do. I wouldn't want to be a writer, to pass on the stories that took root when I was younger. I wouldn't recommend books to people, desperate to share my latest literary love affair.
I'm a passionate advocate for reading, for its joys, pleasures and moments of sheer bliss. Sometimes books are sad, heartbreakingly so, or funny, or scary, to the point where you can't sleep. But that's the magic of them.
I read obsessively, wherever I am, chances are there's a book in my bag if not in my hand. If I don't read, I don't feel right. I spend an inordinate amount of time trying to encourage people to read. I tell them about all the fun that can be had, all the joy. So please, read. Encourage others to read. If you're in a position to help those who struggle, help them. Everyone should have a favourite book (or 10!) and be able to say they love a writer, or a story. There's worlds to be discovered, worlds upon worlds.
I get this evil headaches from time to time. It feels as though part of the inside of my head is trying to make a bid for freedom. I've got one now. It hurts! My mother is incredibly unsympathetic, as usual. You have to be practically dying before she feels for you. IT HURTS!!!!!!!!
Nothing makes it go away, there are no pills that affect it. Sleeping is impossible. A new brain/skull might work. I cannot read, or do much, as I can't concentrate.
I've only been having them for the last few months, which coincides with my life falling apart and me spectacularly failing to do anything about it. Stress-related? Maybe. I just wish it would stop.
So, after all the hoopla of election time, and the comedy of last night's alternative election on channel 4 (I recommend trying either youtube or 4od to find some, bits were very entertaining, try Rich Hall for starters) it all seems to have gone awry. The Conservatives achieved the biggest number of seats but not enough to form a majority, so now we have a hung parliament which apparently leads to another election in 6 months time to try to fix this. Some people across the country were being turned away from polling stations, after queuing in some cases for several hours, because they must close at 10. This strikes me as being somewhat un-democratic, and possibly unconstitutional, although since we don't have a written constitution I can't look it up (one of the few things I actually want to copy from the Americans). Chaos will be ensuing for the next few months, should be interesting.
This is slowly morphing into quite a political blog, I think this is my 3rd post on the subject. It's not intentional, I find it all rather interesting, and I think it's important to be invested in what goes on in the country I live in. Normal service (as normal as it gets when I'm involved) will resume shortly.
Anyway, there is other stuff I want to write about, so I shall.
Things I want to do this month:
*See the bird exhibit at the Barbican. They've set up musical instruments, and there are a flock of birds living on them, making music through their movements. It all sounds rather interesting.
* Visit the butterfly house at the Natural History Museum. I love butterflies, I think they're beautiful and fascinating. This exhibit has dozens from all over the world, housed in a sort of tent on the museum's lawn. I really, really want to go! It's open til June/July so there's plenty of time, but I want to go when there aren't hundreds of kids there, so before the holidays is my aim.
*Make further inroads into the book mountain taking over my floor. I've been chipping away at it, but I keep accumulating more books from other people, charity shop magpie-ing, and very occasionally bookmooch or even more rarely actually buying a book in a shop or online. I can't help it, it's a sickness which has no cure, bibliomania. There are an awful lot of amazing, yummy books out there, and I want to read them all.
*Locate, clean, and make usable my bike. It's in there somewhere, under all the crap my family stores in the shed. I just need to brave the spiders and rescue it. The weather is picking up, I used to love bike rides, and it's a good way to get some exercise. Maybe I'll make my sister help, she has no problem with eight legged monsters.
*Raid my grandad's music collection. He has loads of jazz, Rat Pack and other classics. I want to indulge my fondness for the great divas (Ella, Billie, Bessie, Nina etc) and I know he's the place to start. (I'm actually listening to Nina Simone's greatest hits right now, and it's sooo good!). He got me into this music in the first place, so it's time for him to let me loose in his stash!
*Attend the next Science Museum Lates. The last one was awesome, roll on the last Wednesday of the month.
*See more of my friends. I did quite well in catching up with people last month. I want to do this more often. I don't have a lot of cash, but neither do a lot of my chums. Picnics in parks, sitting in cafes, pubs and wandering around galleries, museums and exploring are cheap. Let's go!
*Work on my writing. I have a stupid amount of free time (thanks economic depression for making me unemployed!) yet I seem to do so little. There are plenty of ideas floating around in my head, and beginnings of things in notebooks and on my computer that I could be shaping into something. Maybe one day I'll have something worth sharing/publishing.
Right, I think those are some good May resolutions. Here's some music.
*This is a line from Los Campesinos! You, Me, Dancing! As seen above.
So today the UK goes to the polls and picks a new (and hopefully improved) Government. Problem is the main parties are so similar it's painful. Labour have been in power for 13 years, and things have gone from bad to worse. The Tories don't offer anything worth voting for. And, although there seems to be a chance the Lib Dems might come closer to power than they have in a long time, I just don't know whether they can do it. There's a lot of apathy here, people just can't be bothered. Everyone in my house, and most of my friends seem to have voted, my sister just came back from doing so. But there's all these undecided voters floating around out there, and people who didn't register so can't vote. People, wake up! If you don't bother, then you have no say. You can't complain because you didn't try to change things. You couldn't see the point. But the point is there. Yes the system is rubbish, first past the post is stupid and does not work, but at least you have the right to make your voice heard. You could live in a country without democracy, and if you're female it's even worse. We've only been allowed to vote for 90 years, and other women died for our right to do so. The polls close in less than 2 hours. Then the counting begins. Tomorrow we'll know who our new Government is going to be comprised of, will it be straightforward or are we looking at a hung parliament? Whatever happens, it's going to be interesting.
It glistens
Roars, booms
The dead sailors plea
Black as the night above it
Sheltering its monsters
Keeping its counsel
Creeping up the shingled beach
The dark, moist sand,
Coming, calling to me
Beckoning, its wet embrace
Inviting me to dance in the surf
Then deeper, plunging into the blackness
So this post started out as a facebook status, "why is it that profound, beautiful books are so easy to read, and when it's read, so hard to move on from..." I was going to follow that with "when crappy books are far too easy to move away from and drive me nuts".
I don't know if that makes a heap of sense, let me explain. I just finished reading The Angel's Game by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, a prequel to The Shadow of the Wind, which I adored. I started reading it last night, finished it a little while ago, loved it. The words, the way it unfolds, everything. A satisfying read.
Compare that to the last Harry Potter book I read, which was, I think, book 3 or 4. It took me an hour and a half, it was dire. I don't like the Potter books (or the Twilight books for that matter), I think they're poorly constructed and derivative. I'm a lit geek, I taught myself to read at 3 (not boasting, just a fact), I have read literally thousands of books in the 20 years I've been a reader. I have a degree in English Lit, I'm going back to uni this year to get another one. I'd like to think of myself as a discerning, educated reader, and one who can tell the difference between good and poor writing.
I like to make an analogy between food and reading. Some books are like a delicious meal, they leave you full and satisfied, maybe even a little sleepy from pleasure. Others are like cheap junk food, they don't satisfy your appetite and they leave you strung out and still hungry. Zafon's books are the former, Rowling's the latter.
There are many books I've read in a really short space of time, if they're gripping, well written and the pacing requires you to stick with it. The Harry Potter book was trite, and I read it fast just so it could be over and I could read something else. It's not to do with length of text, I've mentioned my love of Poirot novels before, and they're scrappy little things, just superbly written, and the one book I'm still trying to get through is War and Peace (100 years of history cannot be confined to 300 pages unfortunately!) Just a question of quality. And yes, I have frequent disagreements with people who love these books (I'm using Harry Potter as an example, it's not the worst offender, merely one of them), and I appreciate to each their own, but when there's so much out there, many better written and far more enjoyable, it makes me a little sad that so many people can't get beyond the hype and search the shelves to find something they can really get their teeth (and mind) into.
Favourite, beloved books are like old friends, but forgiving old friends, who don't criticise, argue, but who welcome you with a warm tender embrace. Or like a faithful dog, with love and glee. I'm looking at my somewhat overloaded shelves right now, each groaning with the weight of books that I love, that I've read over and over, that I recommend to friends and family, that I rhapsodise over and return to, for comfort and familiarity. The story doesn't change, my perception and understanding sometimes does, but I know the ending, it's safe and comforting to know some things never change.
I'm not quite sure where this is going, there's something about books, and love, and enjoyment, and the fact that when you read a great book, it takes a while to dislodge it from your brain and start another, and oh I don't know. Here's a quote from The Angel's Game, which may have been my point, about the love of books.
"...my only friends were made of paper and ink. At school I had learned to read and write long before the other children. Where my school friends saw notches of ink on incomprehensible pages, I saw light, streets and people. Words and their hidden science fascinated me, and I saw within them a key with which I could unlock a boundless world..."
