“But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Saviour has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.”
I hope you and your loved ones all have a wonderful Christmas Day!
With love – Simon
I hope you’re having a lovely Christmas Eve – it’s the big Christmas meal tonight here in the Thomas household, since tomorrow is rather a busy day for Our Vicar. So get the Quorn roast in the oven (and some bird or other for the carnivores) and wrap up warm for tonight’s midnight service, should you be going to one. It’s one of my favourite services of the year – looking forward to it.
But I have so many summary-type posts to come between Christmas and New Year (you’ll be dying to know what my Top Ten Books of 2010 are, yes?) that I thought I’d bring up the topic of New Year’s Resolutions today. Sorry if that’s confusing matters…
So, do you make them? Of course, my big resolution this year was Project 24 – and if I manage the last week, then I’ll have done it! And every year I make a half-hearted resolution not to bite my nails… and every year it fails within minutes.
I don’t think I’ll be making any big personal New Year’s Resolutions, but I have decided on a New Year’s Blogger Resolution: to reply to comments! It isn’t that I’ve had a policy against it before – far from it – I simply never seem to remember to do it. I love those bloggers who do, and love checking back to see whether or not they have. Thus, I am determined to become one of those bloggers. Hold me to it, guys, if I don’t…
So, howsabout you? Any resolutions and – more pertinently – any blogging resolutions?
I’m embroiled in re-reading the Narnia series (don’t worry, Mr. Dickens, I’ll dig you out again – only Prince Caspian has a bit of a war on his hands right now, and I don’t want to leave him to fight it out alone) – but I’m going to post a sort of scattergun blog post with links and suchlike.
1.) I was rather excited about this lovely post from AOL’s MyDaily, which has sweetly picked Stuck-in-a-Book as its Blog of the Week. I especially liked “At Stuck in a Book it’s less about marks out of ten and more about being part of an extremely welcoming community” – that’s what I hope all of us make together.
2.) This link was forwarded to me by Verity. It is a petition asking Oxfordshire County Council to reconsider closing 20 libraries in the county. I know cuts have to be made, and everyone thinks their cause is the most important, but surely enabling widespread free access to books is something worth fighting for? Even if you don’t live in the area, do consider signing the petition, out of worldwide library-users solidarity!
3.) Guy at Pursewarden has concocted another fiendishly difficult Christmas Quiz. Of the 40 questions, I knew the answers to 3. Perhaps you’ll fare better than I did…
4.) This is a fun list, courtesy of Tripbase, of the Top 10 Fictional Travellers. So fun, I can very nearly forgive ‘Waldo’ where ‘Wally’ should be…
5.) Gael Chatelain got in touch with me regarding an interesting publishing decision for her second novel, Do Unto Others. It is published online, to include music that Chatelain has herself composed – and here’s the interesting part: you can choose how much to pay for it, from zilch upwards. Click here for more.
Oh, and the picture? Entirely irrelevant to the post… except, isn’t she SCHWEET?!
I got an email yesterday which reminded me I’d yet to talk about Slightly Foxed, who very kindly sent me the Winter 2010 edition of their journal – so I quickly unearthed it from the boxes of books I’d transported from Oxford to Somerset (was it good sense or simply coincidence that made it near the top of the box? Sadly, I suspect, the latter) and have sat down for an enjoyable half an hour. I am very far from exhausting it, and indeed have only read two or three in full, but I wanted to make sure I mentioned it before Christmas – and it’s not the sort of thing you’d want to rush.
For those not in the know, Slightly Foxed (as well as having one of the best selection of second-hand books ever – if not the cheapest – at their bookshop on Gloucester Road in London Town) publish a journal celebrating literature. It’s a very reader-friendly look at a whole range of authors, novels, and genres – not merely those recently published, but mostly those sitting on the margins of literature. As they say in their accompanying material, Slightly Foxed is more like a bookish friend, really, than a literary periodical. Companionable and unstuffy, each quarter it offer 96 pages of personal recommendations for books of lasting interest, old and new – the kind of good reads you knew you were looking for but somehow haven’t been able to find.If you’re anything like me, you’re thinking “that sounds a lot like a blog” – and you’re not wrong. It has the heart of a blog, but in print, and a selection of great names, great editing, and exhaustively researched. When I say the ‘heart of a blog’, I mean the sort of things they use to describe themselves above. These are passionate readers writing about books people might actually want to read.
My main bugbear with Slightly Foxed – and the reason why, until now, I have looked at their periodicals but never bought them. They are incredibly coy about the contents. The contents page tries to lure with titles as vague as ‘Cheers!’; ‘No Swotting…’; ‘Uncomfortable Truths’; ‘Essential Baggage’; ‘Spellbound’ etc. etc. Even now that I’ve at least flicked through every article, I can’t remember to which works these titles further. Presumably this ambiguity is deliberate… but why? I find it infuriating, and if the pieces themselves weren’t so captivating, I’m not sure I’d think it worth the struggle.
Because once you’ve been baffled by the contents, and fought your way through to the pieces, there are so many treats. Slightly Foxed have genuine variety and lesser-known authors, rather than simply nodding towards someone like Graham Greene and pretending they’re obscure. The authors considered range from the fairly familiar (John Betjeman, Daisy Ashford) to those with whom I’m familiar, but recognise aren’t all that widely known (Molly Keane, Beverley Nichols) to – by far the biggest category – those about whom I know nothing (Joann Sfar, Tete-Michel Kpomassiem…) I would be surprised if anybody could pick any SF up and not meet a new friend.
With so much variety, I can only really give a general recommendation. I will, however, quickly mention the first piece, by Daisy Hay, on that adorable book The Young Visiters [sic] by Daisy Ashford. Like all the other articles, this is four-parts appreciation to one-part literary criticism (much more fun than straight lit crit, I’m sure you’ll agree) but I did learn that my beloved Katherine Mansfield wrote one of the first reviews of the book. For those who don’t know The Young Visiters, it was written by a nine year old, later found and published with a foreword by J.M. Barrie. Basically it’s the adult world as understood by a child, but one who spent much of her time eavesdropping on grown-up conversation, mingling register in her writing. Hay points out her favourite line as ‘Oh Hurrah shouted Ethel I shall soon be ready as I had my bath last night so wont wash very much now.’ Hay writes delightfully of the book and, even if it sheds little new light on the work, it is thoroughly enjoyable to read.
I definitely think any fond reader of blogs would enjoy Slightly Foxed, if they can afford a subscription (may I suggest a last minute Christmas present for the bibliophile in your life – or something to drop hints about?) – it’s full of appreciation, celebration, admiration, and jubilation. You’ll nod in agreement when meeting old friends; hunt through your shelves when spying casual acquaintances; and run to the bookshop when greeting attractive strangers.
I don’t know about you, but I’m always a little nonplussed when people talk about the perfect book to read on the beach, or in autumn, or when it’s cold, etc. etc. I tend simply to read the book I want or need to read next, with little consideration for the temperature, season, or day of the week.
But this year, I’m embracing it – I’ve lined up a couple of books which I think are perfect for long winter evenings. Why does winter suit long books in my head? I baulk at the idea of fluffy fiction on beaches – surely uninterrupted time on the beach is perfect for long, complex novels? – but chunky novels for winter seem to work. And I’ve got a couple lined up – Great Expectations by one Mr. C. Dickens, and Sarah Waters’ The Night Watch. You know my feelings about long books, but I’m going to put the winter evenings to good use.
I’m about 50 pages into Great Expectations and loving it. How have I not read any Dickens since 2004? I’ve read Hard Times, David Copperfield, and Our Mutual Friend and either loved or very much liked them all. And I’m loving this one – Dickens’ way with dialogue is unparalleled.
But I’ll write about it properly when I’m finished – this post is just to ask whether or not you have any Christmas/winter reading planned, and whether or not you plan your reading by season etc.? Let me know!
The Thomas family is reunited down in Somerset, and we have spent the past two evenings performing in the Chiselborough Christmas Cracker – a variety show which makes up in enthusiasm what it lacks in rehearsal time, and is jolly good fun. We did our own spin on the famous Monty Python ‘Spanish Inquisition’ sketch, with Col and I taking the roles of the Cardinals. Somehow it involved me doing a Scottish accent… I am just grateful that nobody in the audience was Scottish, because accents are not my strong suit. When it comes to acting, I have yet to find my strong suit – unless hearty enjoyment is one.
Anyway, this is a preamble to say how Christmassy I’m now feeling, and that’s why this week’s Sunday Song isn’t my usual pick of a lesser-known artist, but rather a rendition of my favourite carol. It’s In the Bleak Midwinter sung – why not? – by lovely Julie Andrews.
Never let it be said that I am a spontaneous man. Over three years ago, Danielle from A Work in Progress sent me Parnassus on Wheels and The Haunted Bookshop by Christopher Morley, in exchange for Miss Hargreaves. I can’t remember whether Danielle has read Miss H yet, but I do know that I was making slow progress myself. After 16 months I read, loved, and reviewed the first title (the second is a sequel, but can equally well be read as a stand-alone novel) and promised to read the second ‘soon’. In fairness to myself, I did add the following footnote: ‘Soon is a relative term. I mean before books become obsolete.’
Fast forward another 18 or so months, and here we are… (this is why I love it when bibliophiles give me books – they don’t expect me to have read them by that time next week.)
I should start by saying that The Haunted Bookshop (1919) is a misleading title. It is quickly explained that the haunting refers to the authors who linger there through their works; for Roger Mifflin and his wife Helen (the heroine of Parnassus on Wheels) have left their travelling book wagon in a shed, and opened up shop. Mifflin is less sprightly than before; Helen less sharp – but they are older now, and contented marriage has taken the place of peripatetic solitariness, so we can happily forgive them their mellowing. But Christopher Morley is still willing and able to provide a lively character, and he does this in the form of Titania Chapman – the young daughter of one of Mifflin’s friends, who comes to work in his shop, as her father wishes her to better herself. Titania is full of enthusiastic naivety and well-meaning ignorance. Perhaps she can best describe herself, in this revealing excerpt:
“I do hope,” said Titania, “you won’t let Daddy poison your mind about me. He thinks I’m dreadfully frivolous, just because I look frivolous. But I’m so keen to make good in this job. I’ve been practising doing up parcels all afternoon, so as to learn how to tie the string nicely and not cut it until after the knot’s tied. I found that when you cut it beforehand either you get it too short and it won’t go round, or else too long and you waste some. Also I’ve learned how to make wrapping paper cuffs to keep my sleeves clean.”
Isn’t she adorable? And keen to learn – and there is nowhere better to do so than Mifflin’s shop. The first few chapters of this novel take us through some wonderful passages, where Mifflin exalts the joy of reading – nay, the necessity of it. Every bibliophile will love the discussions about the role of a bookseller, and those on the latent hunger for books among the public. It was compelling, absorbing, and utterly right-minded – from the perspective of this bibliophile, of course.
But The Haunted Bookshop has another, rather different, thread running through it – and that is where the other new character comes into play. Aubrey Gilbert (brilliant name) works in advertising and isn’t much of a reader, but wanders into the bookshop to see if the proprietor would consider using his business. Which – somehow – turns into a bizarre sort of thriller. The Haunted Bookshop was written in 1919, and the effects of the War are certainly felt. There is spying; near-kidnap; anonymous ‘phone calls; mysterious disappearing and re-appearing books. Perhaps this kind of thing is your cup of tea. It isn’t mine, and I found all this thread rather tedious. It had little of the ingenuity of Agatha Christie, and quite a lot of the gung-ho, xenophobic bombast of Bulldog Drummond.
So this review reflects the book and my reading experience, in that it seems to have a split personality. I loved, loved, loved the sections about books. Morley and Mifflin are alike bibliomaniacs, and Mifflin’s dialogue is at all times scattered with literary references high and low. The Haunted Bookshop serves almost as a literary compendium, so vast and wide-ranging are the allusions. (Some are listed on the book’s Wikipedia page.) But then… but then I would start skimming pages as the thriller story took the upper-hand. Which was frustrating, because if the novel had continued throughout in the vein it started, this would be easily my favourite book this year. Morley, Morley, Morley – what were you thinking?
In the end, which Morley novel did I prefer? I can’t decide whether the best bits of The Haunted Bookshop push it above Parnassus on Wheels for me, or whether the worst bits push it below. Mifflin and Helen are fantastic creations, but only really vibrant in Parnassus on Wheels. I don’t know – I certainly recommend reading both, and this would be a great novel to give any book lover – just make sure you are willing to skim some pages, if your tastes are the same as mine.
Thanks again Danielle for these lovely gifts!
I’ve got half a review saved away in my draft posts, but it’s late and I’m heading bedwards, so instead I thought I’d share this delicious quotation from Rose Macaulay’s Dangerous Ages (1921). It’s a conversation between Gerda and Neville (who are, confusingly, mother and daughter. Or perhaps aunt and niece – I got a little confused.) I think it’s a fun little satire on thoughtless 1920s Bohemianism…
“Marriage,” said Gerda, “is so Victorian. It’s like antimacassars.”
“Now, my dear, do you mean anything by either of those statements? Marriage wasn’t invented in Victoria’s reign. Nor did it occur more frequently in that reign than it did before or does now. Why Victorian then? And why antimacassars? Think it out. How can a legal contract be like a doily on the back of a chair? Where is the resemblance? It sounds like a riddle, only there’s no answer. No, you know you’ve got no answer. That kind of remark is sheer sentimentality and muddle headedness. Why are people in their twenties so often sentimental? That’s another riddle.”
Today is the day to unveil our Persephone Secret Santas, so it gives me very great pleasure to unveil my Christmas gifts – here they are:
That’s On the Other Side: Letters to My Children from Germany 1940-46 by Mathilde Wolff-Monckeberg – one of only two Persephone Books I didn’t have and wanted, which makes me realise how many are languishing unread on my shelves. Talking of which, I also received A Tale of Two Cities by (of course) Charles Dickens – Mr. Dickens is one of those authors I love, but never seem to read. I’ve read three of his novels, but none for the last seven years.
And now to unveil my kind Santa – it is Rachel of Flowers and Stripes – thanks Rachel! I must confess that I haven’t read Rachel’s blog before, but of course I will be doing so now.
Many thanks to lovely Claire for organising this, and pop over to see who got what from whom in Persephone Secret Santa fun. I have a feeling that the receiver of my Santa gift may have a barren day, as events conspired against me, and it didn’t get to the post box in time to get to… but no, I shan’t spoil the surprise just yet.
No, I’m not giving up blogging – although wouldn’t it be fun to pretend to, just to get the messages of praise? (Or, alternatively, a terrifying silence!)
No – we have come to an end, but it is not the end of my blogging fun – it is the end of Project 24. In fact, it came to an end back on the 2nd December, and it has taken me a while to take photos and alert you to my final purchases of 2010.
I suspected, when I went to London to meet up with some friends from an email book discussion group, that I might well buy one or two or maybe three books. It seemed a fitting way to end Project 24 – by buying books in the company of friends who have never discouraged book buying; always supported the need to own duplicates of favourite titles (I can feel DP’s hackles raise at that ‘need’!); bombard me daily with recommendations, etc. etc. Quite a few of the group had to cancel, because it was the day of snow and ice and trains being cancelled left, right, and centre – but five managed to make it, and not one of them stopped me buying these books.
First two were found at a nearby Oxfam – the first two volumes of Katherine Mansfield’s letters. I’ve hankered after these, but they’re so expensive online. If I wanted them new from Amazon, they’d be £76 each – and even secondhand I’d be looking about £15-£30. In Oxfam I found them for only £4 each! And for those who will point out that I’m swiping money from a charity, I *did* volunteer at Oxfam for a couple of years once… so we’re probably even.
Of course, now I want the other three volumes… but it wasn’t one of those which rounded off Project 24.
Instead, in the incredibly well-stocked bookshop Slightly Foxed, a must-visit shop for any bibliophile and my first time there – I bought Mrs. Christopher by Elizabeth Myers. My favourite read from 2006 was the letters of Elizabeth Myers, picked up by chance at Sherbourne’s book fair. Since then I’ve only read one of her novels, and would be interested to read more, but that’s not the main reason I chose this novel. What sealed the deal was the fact that this is, in librarian terminology, an ‘association copy’…
In case you can’t read that, it says ‘With love, to Nora Nicholson from Elizabeth and Littleton Powys, who are most grateful to her for her splendid efforts to turn the novel into a play. May the Lord be with her. Oct. 1949’.
I must write properly about Myers’ letters someday – they reveal a beautiful-hearted woman who died far too soon, and it is a joy to have this connection with her. A fitting and lovely way to end Project 24.
