This is my fourth year of a fifty-book challenge - and for reasons that are mysterious to me, I'm well ahead of the pace. Normally I've managed 50-55 books, including last year an emergency pride-saving push over Christmas.
Monday, 12 September 2011
Wednesday, 20 July 2011
No-one expects the French inquisition
On holiday in the Tarn last week, 29C kept me sitting in the shade from the moment I came in from the morning's baguette-foraging until about 4pm. While the others played by the pool, I kept my pale skin safe and my geeky brain entertained with some local history.
This area of the south-west of France was full of the Cathar heresy during C13 and into C14, people who rejected the Catholic church and opted instead to be 'good Christians'. I really enjoyed The Perfect Heresy, which sets the early C13 sieges and massacres in the context of wider history - the state of the Catholic church and competing popes setting up across Europe; rival powers with claims on the land (including the English King, the local Count of Foix and the tiny kingdom of France) and changes in society and technology. It's a compelling and vivid read, showing us how human the individuals were. And the descriptions of medieval sieges and burnings were truly horrendous.
And then I read Montaillou, which is a classic. Emmanuel La Roy Ladurie drew on the detailed records of the C14 Inquisition's interviews and interrogations of the population of this tiny village. It's a magnificent work of scholarship, with astounding levels of detail about the most minor aspects of life. My gripe is that it's a dated book - it reads like an academic study, taking different aspects of life thematically and marshalling the evidence for each section. I think a more modern history would have invested more focus in the stories of the families - it could still have kept different chapters to focus on different aspects of rural medieval life but would have been more plot and character-driven and so a more engaging read.
Both books came from Daunts - I love the way they arrange history and fiction by country, with the travel books. I'm not into the Dan Brown-type stuff on Cathars etc, and didn't manage to find any 'quality' fiction to read while there, so I'd welcome any other suggestions of books to read - whether about the area or more fiction set in medieval Europe.
This area of the south-west of France was full of the Cathar heresy during C13 and into C14, people who rejected the Catholic church and opted instead to be 'good Christians'. I really enjoyed The Perfect Heresy, which sets the early C13 sieges and massacres in the context of wider history - the state of the Catholic church and competing popes setting up across Europe; rival powers with claims on the land (including the English King, the local Count of Foix and the tiny kingdom of France) and changes in society and technology. It's a compelling and vivid read, showing us how human the individuals were. And the descriptions of medieval sieges and burnings were truly horrendous.
And then I read Montaillou, which is a classic. Emmanuel La Roy Ladurie drew on the detailed records of the C14 Inquisition's interviews and interrogations of the population of this tiny village. It's a magnificent work of scholarship, with astounding levels of detail about the most minor aspects of life. My gripe is that it's a dated book - it reads like an academic study, taking different aspects of life thematically and marshalling the evidence for each section. I think a more modern history would have invested more focus in the stories of the families - it could still have kept different chapters to focus on different aspects of rural medieval life but would have been more plot and character-driven and so a more engaging read.
Both books came from Daunts - I love the way they arrange history and fiction by country, with the travel books. I'm not into the Dan Brown-type stuff on Cathars etc, and didn't manage to find any 'quality' fiction to read while there, so I'd welcome any other suggestions of books to read - whether about the area or more fiction set in medieval Europe.
Reading in the right place
There's very little beats a holiday read set in the same place that you're actually reading it. I enjoyed some Cathar history last week near Lavaur - and then came back to see that the Guardian's got writers to suggest books for ten holiday breaks.
I definitely fancy Egypt, Spain and Italy - for holidays and from the one-line summaries of suggested books...
Thursday, 7 July 2011
Getting back into the game
I've not posted anything in ages, though I have been skulking round plenty of other blogs and adding the odd comment (or planning to, which I'll try to catch up on this weekend). No real reason, other than sunshine and real world fun.
Anyway, I'm starting back again with a couple of fancy adverts I saw and thought others might fancy too.
Firstly, Virago Modern Classics have some new books out in gorgeous fabric-wrapped hardcover. I've not heard of most of them before, but I bought quite a few of the last lot based on attractiveness and a quick browse - and discovered some books and authors that I really really enjoyed. So I'm definitely going to look out for these and read a few pages.
Secondly, special deals on Persephone (see below) - buy three books and choose a free volume of short stories between now and the end of the month. Woo. Methinks my mum's birthday present's pretty much wrapped up now.
| Summer Reading Offer Dear Persephone Reader, ‘This funny, intelligent, deceptively low-key collection is long overdue’ wrote the Guardian last Saturday about the new audiobook version of our short story collection Good Evening, Mrs Craven read by Lucy Scott. So we thought we would give a boost to some of our other short story collections that do not get so much attention. If you buy three Persephone books as normal we will send you, completely free of charge, a copy of one of the following collections: Tell It to a Stranger (No. 15), The Montana Stories (No. 25), Minnie’s Room (No. 34), Tea with Mr Rochester (No. 44), The Casino (No. 48), The Woman Novelist and Other Stories (No. 64) or The Closed Door and Other Stories (No. 74). Just write in the Additional Information box (below Shipping Information) which book you would like. Please note: this offer is valid from July 7th-31st and can only be used once. Some people are unaccountably reluctant to read short stories. This is their chance to overcome that reluctance for ever! Best wishes from all at Persephone Books |
Tuesday, 14 June 2011
Ten bookmarks (or bookmark substitutes)
How do you mark your place in a book? I'm a sucker for bookmarks and buy 'proper' ones all the time - but when it comes down to it, and I have to stop reading in order to sleep, eat or actually start work, they're never to hand.
So I use all sorts of flat(ish) things:
And because I then normally leave my within-reach bookmark to live within the book, it almost becomes part of the book, tied into my memory of when I read it and what else was going on at the time.
How do you mark your place? Do you dog-ear?
So I use all sorts of flat(ish) things:
And because I then normally leave my within-reach bookmark to live within the book, it almost becomes part of the book, tied into my memory of when I read it and what else was going on at the time.
How do you mark your place? Do you dog-ear?
Sunday, 12 June 2011
Someone At A Distance
I bought Someone At A Distance as the third of my latest Persephone '3 for a bit cheaper' deal. I was already committed to Round About A Pound and Few Eggs, and I'd really enjoyed They Were Sisters.
I started the book a couple of weeks ago and finished it on my first day in Hay - and it didn't disappoint. A quick plot summary from Amazon: "Apparently a 'fairly ordinary tale about the destruction of a happy marriage,' Nina Bawden wrote in her Preface, yet 'it makes compulsive reading' in its description of an 'ordinary' family, husband commuting up to town, wife at home ('Ellen was that unfashionable creature, a happy housewife'). Disaster strikes when a young French woman visits (the scenes back in France are most beautifully described, with touches of Balzac or Maupassant) and calculatingly seduces the husband. He abandons everything for her; then there is no going back."
I loved the characterisation of the North family, and the way that Dorothy Whipple captures their happiness and relationships while also showing us their tics and flaws. And I found Louise loathsome but captivating - from the first moment we see her we know she's not a nice piece of work. Her seduction of Avery - and the end of his marriage to Ellen - is slow and specific, with key moments described in detail through one or both character's views. Although we know through the omniscient narration that Louise is playing a careful game and shifting her aims as she works out her options, as a reader I felt that there was no escape as each incident seemed to lead inexorably to the next. And maybe that is how Avery explained it to himself at first, because none of the individual actions/situations on their own were inexcusable - and many were inappropriate only because of the cumulative impact.
The book left me thinking about three quite different things.
1) Early on, the narrator compares Louise to Madame Bovary in her social ambitions and as I went on reading the book I found that echoes and parallels kept coming to mind. I've not been able to find any reviews on line which explore this properly with quotes and more sharp comparisons - but it sounds like an essay question just waiting to be set!
2) The book ends 'right' with Ellen back on her feet with a new home, kids happy and secure, and Avery and Louise miserable in each others' company. I found myself wondering about Ellen's final reaction - her sense of pleasure and pride that Avery misses her and is so evidently upset. I wondered about whether they would ever find a way to be together again, and whether I would think that a good or bad thing...
3) Nina Bawden's preface to the Persephone edition suggests that although the book was written and set after the Second World War, the overall tone has a sense of nostalgia which might better place the book in the prewar period. I've been wondering about whether that's true - or whether it's just that the big changes of post-war England had much less impact on wealthy country-dwellers. And I was very struck by how much has changed since the 50s in terms of women's lives - we don't have maids any more and we do expect to work - and often to have a career, with all the associated increases in independence and in hard work because we're still expected to keep house and home together.
There are some great reviews around, including on the Persephone Forum and from the Persephone Reading Weekend (Tuulenhaiven and BookGirl). I also thought that Carol Wallace's review picked on something important about how we feel about unpleasant characters when an author/narrator lets us see inside their worlds too.
I started the book a couple of weeks ago and finished it on my first day in Hay - and it didn't disappoint. A quick plot summary from Amazon: "Apparently a 'fairly ordinary tale about the destruction of a happy marriage,' Nina Bawden wrote in her Preface, yet 'it makes compulsive reading' in its description of an 'ordinary' family, husband commuting up to town, wife at home ('Ellen was that unfashionable creature, a happy housewife'). Disaster strikes when a young French woman visits (the scenes back in France are most beautifully described, with touches of Balzac or Maupassant) and calculatingly seduces the husband. He abandons everything for her; then there is no going back."
I loved the characterisation of the North family, and the way that Dorothy Whipple captures their happiness and relationships while also showing us their tics and flaws. And I found Louise loathsome but captivating - from the first moment we see her we know she's not a nice piece of work. Her seduction of Avery - and the end of his marriage to Ellen - is slow and specific, with key moments described in detail through one or both character's views. Although we know through the omniscient narration that Louise is playing a careful game and shifting her aims as she works out her options, as a reader I felt that there was no escape as each incident seemed to lead inexorably to the next. And maybe that is how Avery explained it to himself at first, because none of the individual actions/situations on their own were inexcusable - and many were inappropriate only because of the cumulative impact.
The book left me thinking about three quite different things.
1) Early on, the narrator compares Louise to Madame Bovary in her social ambitions and as I went on reading the book I found that echoes and parallels kept coming to mind. I've not been able to find any reviews on line which explore this properly with quotes and more sharp comparisons - but it sounds like an essay question just waiting to be set!
2) The book ends 'right' with Ellen back on her feet with a new home, kids happy and secure, and Avery and Louise miserable in each others' company. I found myself wondering about Ellen's final reaction - her sense of pleasure and pride that Avery misses her and is so evidently upset. I wondered about whether they would ever find a way to be together again, and whether I would think that a good or bad thing...
3) Nina Bawden's preface to the Persephone edition suggests that although the book was written and set after the Second World War, the overall tone has a sense of nostalgia which might better place the book in the prewar period. I've been wondering about whether that's true - or whether it's just that the big changes of post-war England had much less impact on wealthy country-dwellers. And I was very struck by how much has changed since the 50s in terms of women's lives - we don't have maids any more and we do expect to work - and often to have a career, with all the associated increases in independence and in hard work because we're still expected to keep house and home together.
There are some great reviews around, including on the Persephone Forum and from the Persephone Reading Weekend (Tuulenhaiven and BookGirl). I also thought that Carol Wallace's review picked on something important about how we feel about unpleasant characters when an author/narrator lets us see inside their worlds too.
Friday, 3 June 2011
How to save your spine
No, not a post about posture while reading. Yes, a post about how to look after the spine of a paperback book - my university boyfriend taught me, and I'm now passing on the word. It only takes about a minute, and I don't think I've broken any spines since I learnt about it.
Get hold of your paperback - you need to do this before you read the book. Find a table or similar hard surface, and stand the book on its spine.
Take the front and back covers, one in each hand, and open them out onto the table. Leave all the pages still standing up. Use your thumb nails to smooth down the right-angled crease between the cover (now flat on the table) and the pages (still standing up). I think this works best if you do both sides at once.
Pick up 10-15 pages from the front and back of the book and open them onto the table, leaving the rest of the pages still standing up. Repeat the thumbnail manoever, running both thumbs down the crease between the pages that you've opened and the rest which are still standing up.
Keep on doing this - taking 10-15 pages from each end, opening them, and running your thumbnails down to make sure they'll stay open - until you get to the middle.
Close the book again, smile, and start to read from p1.
Any other tips for looking after books? Or for saving your spine while reading in stupid positions?
Get hold of your paperback - you need to do this before you read the book. Find a table or similar hard surface, and stand the book on its spine.
Take the front and back covers, one in each hand, and open them out onto the table. Leave all the pages still standing up. Use your thumb nails to smooth down the right-angled crease between the cover (now flat on the table) and the pages (still standing up). I think this works best if you do both sides at once.
Pick up 10-15 pages from the front and back of the book and open them onto the table, leaving the rest of the pages still standing up. Repeat the thumbnail manoever, running both thumbs down the crease between the pages that you've opened and the rest which are still standing up.
Keep on doing this - taking 10-15 pages from each end, opening them, and running your thumbnails down to make sure they'll stay open - until you get to the middle.
Close the book again, smile, and start to read from p1.
Any other tips for looking after books? Or for saving your spine while reading in stupid positions?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)