Stuck in a Book

I’m sure all of you who keep blogs have come across this quandary. You want to write an entry, but just… not a lot to say today. Haven’t read much interesting lately; spent most of the day doing routine tasks; didn’t meet any celebrities or alien life forms. And then you sit down in front of the computer screen, and think… I have an audience out there to entertain. They want a bit of an anecdote, a pic or two, and some tips as to the next Booker prize winner. Well, yes, mostly we visitors to blogs just want to share a little of the blogger’s world. Sit on the sofa, drink a cuppa, scan the bookshelves. But let me tell you, it’s a little different when it comes to cartoons. I love doing ’em, but nobody would appreciate looking at a blank piece of paper.

There. Not very interesting is it? So now I need ideas… Or… Hmm. Maybe I’ll just let Stuck In A Book himself give it a shot. Cartoon, invent yourself.It’s a start. I spy definite facial features. Funny how the nose always comes first…

h

And there he is, or rather I am. Even holding a pencil, ready to do some sketching or so forth. Happy little smile; tousled hair; a bit of stubble to make sure I look male. All is well.

But wait… what is that on the other end of the pencil?

d Don’t know why the writing has gone underlined, but mine is not to reason why. Perhaps in protest at what poor Stuck in a Book is doing to himself…

May 1st is coming to an end in England, and thus comes the close of Magdalen’s Big Day. May Day is quite a non-event throughout much of the country now (celebrated only through Maypole Dancing, which my First School still does with aplomb every year) but it’s the centre of the calendar for Magdalen College.

It all kicks off at 6.00am when the boys choir sing from the top of Magdalen tower, and the Dean of Divinity says some things in Latin, and then in English. Not sure whether or not they’re the same things…

This is the only time in the year when we’re allowed to stand on the Cloisters Lawn, seen in the first picture. I’m afraid most of the photographs in this entry were taken in Winter, so the beautiful weather we’re having won’t come across. The second photo is a Summer one, though – Addison’s Walk, where CS Lewis became a Christian, among other claims to fame. It’s a 20 minute stroll around the Water Meadow, site of the famous fritillarias. They’re all died down now, but will be back around the same time next year, I’m sure.

During the Winter the Water Meadow earns its name, and is flooded. Some of the most magical views in Magdalen are when this field turns itself into a lake. I’ve stolen the lake-photo from my friend Tom, but it’s stunning and I thought you’d like to share it. What’s amazing is that, even though that this is Magdalen tower you can see in the distance, this photo is taken within College grounds. We go a long way! And to get there, we go through this big gate. Indeed, Magdalen has something of a theme, when it comes to gates – all of them are metal, blue, and ornate. Nice touches.
Back to May Day. Well, I wasn’t in Magdalen for it this year, as I was helping the Christian Union with a a questionnaire/doughnut thing we were doing – but I did manage to hear the singing from the crowd on the High Street. The photo of the crowd is actually from last year, purloined from the Student Newspaper (I used to be a section editor, so hopefully they won’t sue me). It didn’t rain this year, so less eye-poking risk. I’m just the wrong height for other people’s umbrellas…

Having listened to the choir, and done some questionnaires, I must confess I headed back to my slumber. Four hours sleep does not a revision-ready head make. And how did I conduct this revision, you ask?

Well, we were allowed onto the lawns. May 1st is the turning point in the lawns’ calendar too, and we are now allowed on all of them except Cloisters and St John’s; can play Frisbee on St. Swithin’s; can play croquet on the second one from the left outside New Buildings…And we can also go punting now… but more of that another time, methinks. Would be too difficult to explain to the uninitiated, and too lengthy to defend the Oxford method, versus the Cambridge method. Instead, I’ll leave you with my favourite photo from the last year, taken on the day before snow descended onto Magdalen.

There are only a handful of authors who find themselves in the privileged position of having a whole shelf devoted to them, chez Stuck-in-a-Book in Somerset. AA Milne, Richmal Crompton, EM Delafield, Agatha Christie, and… Virginia Woolf. Perhaps an odd companion to those decidedly non-highbrow authors (though Milne was at university with Leonard Woolf, and Delafield knew the Woolfs enough to have them to tea) – but I can’t help loving Virginia Woolf. So much, that I’m slightly dubious about writing of Ginny when quite so tired… but I’ll give it a shot.

I’m aware that Woolf has her enemies as well as her friends – many based on the assumption that she was “that crazy, suicidal lesbian, wasn’t she?” Others have tried diligently, but simply can’t get on with her prose. Thank goodness for people like Susan Hill – I haven’t been taking her Woolf for Dummies, because she’d be preaching to the converted, but I know lots of people are giving it a shot.

But what do I like about Woolf? Mostly, it’s her style; the way she writes. All other authors seem to seek words to fit their meaning – Woolf’s words are always RIGHT; the meaning leaps to fit her words. That doesn’t quite make sense, but it is the feeling I get when reading her novels – which can be read as a form of poetry. I love to just sink into the language, even when I don’t quite know what’s going on – indeed, The Waves can be dipped into AS poetry, I think. I can’t quite remember where Susan Hill said one should start with Woolf, but my only advice is “not The Waves” – leave it until you’ve made a first acquaintance with Virginia. I think Mrs. Dalloway is a good a way in as any. Not a lot happens – Mrs. Dalloway organises a party, and remembers her youth – but… not a lot needs to happen when an author writes this well.

I’ve not put this in the ’50 Books…’ because it’s too well-known – but look out for a Woolf entry in there, sooner or later.

And then there’s the biography. Yes, she killed herself. Like Keats, a premature death seems to have preoccupied critics for decades – the only veto our Woolf tutors gave was “whatever you do, don’t write on Woolf and suicide”. I find the Bloomsbury group fascinating, and Virginia’s own life very interesting (though Hermione Lee’s recent biography was a little too thorough for my liking – every stroll down the hallway was documented, with footnotes) – but I hold these entirely separate to her writing. A little New Historicist of me, but there you are. Just find a Woolf novel, forget everything you know about the woman, and let the writing wash over you.

Something a lot of people don’t realise about Woolf is that she’s FUNNY. Very funny – in a dry, drole, upper-class sort of way, but funny nonetheless. One of my favourite bits is in her essay ‘Mr. Bennett and Mrs. Brown’ – in the section below she is mocking the novelist Arnold Bennett’s over-attention to detail in his prose.

So I leave you with that. What impression has Virginia made on you? Like or loathe? She’s a little different to the bulk of my reading taste, but an integral one nevertheless.

…He would notice the advertisements; the pictures of Swanage and Portsmouth; the way in which the cushion bulged between the buttons; how Mrs. Brown wore a brooch which had cost three-and-ten-three at Whitworth’s bazaar; and had mended both gloves—indeed the thumb of the left-hand glove had been replaced. And he would observe, at length, how this was the non-stop train from Windsor which calls at Richmond for the convenience of middle-class residents, who can afford to go to the theatre but have not reached the social rank which can afford motor-cars, though it is true, there are occasions (he would tell us what), when they hire them from a company (he would tell us which).

Yesterday I got a nice postcard and letter in the post from a regular correspondent, my aunt Jacq – I’ve put up a photo of the postcard. It is brilliantly apposite for Stuck-in-a-Book, and appears to have been bought in Berlin – I do hope Jacq didn’t make the trip to Germany especially for me. I rather think not.

We’ve exchanged letters for five years now, and through that time have often set each other Literary Challenges of some sort or other – I thought I’d share this one. Have done my best (which turned out not to be very good) without resorting to good old Google. So please do give a hand, but only if you know them already – let’s not cheat just yet!

Ok, the challenge is this – all of these are fictional places, or real places used in literature. Who are the authors?

I only got 13. Oo, exactly half.

Archenland
Brobdingnag
Cranford
Dune
Erewhon
Frenchman’s Creek
Gormenghast
Hogsmead
Ishmaelia
Judas College, Oxford
Kenilworth
Loamshire
Mariposa
Neverland
Oz
Puddleby-on-the-Marsh
Quarne
Ruritania
St. Mary Mead
Troytown
Utopia
Villette
Wigan Pier
Xanadu
Yell’ham Bottom
Sector ZZ9 Plural Z Alpha

If Lylah Goodwin has two claims to fame on this blog, they are these: she introduced me to Miss Hargreaves, as aforestated, and she was also the first person to tell me that ‘Persephone’ isn’t pronounced ‘Percy-phone’. You live, you learn.

I first came across Persephone Books when I spotted a copy of Richmal Crompton’s Family Roundabout in our local library – I’d started reading Crompton’s novels for adults about a year beforehand, on a why-not impulse buy, whilst in Hay-on-Wye (a town of second bookshops, for those not in the know), and loved her. Thus, I couldn’t help picking up the Persephone edition, and thought “hmm, quite pretty”. Damning with faint praise: such is the effect of library plastic ‘dustjackets’ – but, still, the seed was sewn.

It was a while later, on Amazon, that I noticed a reviewer called ‘Lyn’ had reviewed a lot of Persephone Books. This was back in the day when Amazon gave contact details for their reviewers, and so I emailed Lyn, asking for recommendations – and recommending Crompton in turn. If you recognise the name Lyn, then it’s because she is a regular visitor to Stuck-In-A-Book, and has been a friend since that time in – what was it? – 2003. Lyn, a Melbourne bookaholic, introduced me to what was then ‘persephonites’ – an online group of Persephone Book fans, which transformed itself into ‘dovegreybooks’ along the way, and widened its net of interest. When I joined I’d read only Family Roundabout, and Miss Pettigrew Lives For A Day.

Oh, how times have changed.

I haven’t had many opportunities to read Persephone Books while at university, but it hasn’t stopped me buying them, and sneaking in the odd read – and I have worked my way through quite a few of the catalogue. Oh, what words can I use to express the sheer PERFECTION of these books, both in terms of content and presentation? They’re a beautiful, soft grey – but inside each book has a unique and evocative endpaper, almost always just right for the book in question. Even the little twirly bits at the top of each page (I’m sure there’s a proper name for these) are different for each book. They look beautiful, agreed? (Whilst I’m on their appearance, many thanks to Our Vicar’s Wife for the photographs – all my Persephones are at home, and she had the excellent idea of combining them with our lovely wisteria).

And the content? These books are mostly from the first half of the twentieth century, and a mix of novels, poetry, cookery books, biography, gardening books – all, well, ‘Persephone’. It deserves to be an adjective. The novels are my favourite, and they’ve provided some gems, which might appear later in my ’50 Books…’ Do try Family Roundabout, Hostages to Fortune, Consequences, Someone at a Distance, The Home-Maker… in fact, just ask for a catalogue at their website. They’ll post the books anywhere, and are very speedy at it, too. Warning, though: once you’ve got one, you’ll want to get them all. There are currently 72. If I ever clear my student debt, the 40+ that I don’t have will be winging their way to me.

What more can I say about them? Just buy one (or three, to get the discount) and you’ll be hooked – you can’t possibly regret it. Something so special about small press republications – like you’re being allowed to browse someone else’s bookshelves while they’re in the kitchen (we’ve all been there, admit it) and then keep the ones you like best.

Today’s sketch mocks my mispronunciation of ‘Persephone’, and requires knowledge of those two denizens of culture – Salvador Dali, and Thomas the Tank Engine…

Sorry to be blogging at unusual times of day, hope I haven’t thrown you all – but wanted to add a note to today.

This afternoon, around 3.15, Stuck-in-a-book and Cornflower met each other in the Real World(!) Our paths were crossing (indeed, Cornflower came all the way to Magdalen) and we arranged a very brief ‘hello – how – are – you – gosh – you – ARE – real’. It was very, very nice to meet Karen, and always exciting when the blogosphere presents these opportunities.

So, thanks Karen!

P.s. hope I didn’t spoil the guessing game on your blog too much…

What, I hear you cry, this picture is of non-books. It’s not even of Nature. What’s going on? Well, I’m afraid today’s blog entry has catapaulted itself into the late-twentieth century (let’s not get ahead of ourselves) and is going to address Digitally Viewable Doodahs. Ok, I don’t know what DVD stands for, but it might as well be that.

Take a closer look at the DVDs. Can you spot a theme? A theme which supports my claim to be stuck-in-a-book?

Yep, you’re right – they’re all adaptations of books, or biopics of authors. Or both. Oddly, though I have some scruples about adaptations (yes, I am a purist – it’s just called standards, honest), it is these films to which I return time and again. Perhaps because the plots/characters will come from people who genuinely prize writing? I know absurdly little about the goings-on of scriptwriters in Hollywood, and what I do know has been gleaned from PG Wodehouse and Stephen Leacock, neither of whom are renowned for their strict veracity. Still, I can’t help thinking the endings to some of these films would have been different, had they started life in a scriptwriter’s office.

In case the photograph is too small, here’s a list of those featured:
The Hours – had mixed reviews, but it’s probably my favourite film. Perhaps not an entirely reliable depiction of Woolf, but Kidman’s role is far from the only focus of this film. An astonishingly good cast.
84 Charing Cross Road – I know Janice has been writing about Helene Hanff – and this film is so RIGHT for the book; it has the same atmosphere. Cosy, bookish, gentle, wonderful.
The Secret Garden – (see pic) the first film I ever saw in the cinema, on my 7th birthday. Still love it, and brings back so many childhood memories.
Pride and Prejudice – the 1995 BBC version, none of your 2005 film nonsense. Davies writes a wonderful script, with the sadly novel idea of using Austen’s dialogue. If only more adaptors would pay heed. Jennifer Ehle IS Lizzie.
Possession – speaking of Jennifer Ehle… This adaptation is AS Byatt’s novel is probably a little lowbrow compared to the tome itself, but, do you know, I coped with that.
The Camomile Lawn – more Jennifer Ehle, but as you’ve never seen her before… and the most mismatched hair/eyebrows combination in film history.
I Capture the Castle – (see pic) a beautiful film which made me fall in love with the novel all over again – another one of my favourites, though it did omit one of my favourite lines: “Noble deeds and hot baths are the best cure for depression.”
The Shipping Forecast – *hangs head in shame* I haven’t read the book… but strange film.
Finding Neverland – not an adaptation, but a biopic of JM Barrie. Again, not always accurate, but great fun and extremely moving.
Rebecca – Hitchcock’s iconic production does everything one could want from an adaptation. And it’s in black and white, so makes me feel clever.
Sylvia – another biopic, which doesn’t delve particularly subtly into the Ted/Sylvia relationship, and wasn’t allowed to quote her poetry, but does feature the cutest child ever, as Frieda.
Harry Potter x 3 – more good fun, and so many stars in the cast that it’s practically a galaxy. If only Daniel Radcliffe could ACT…
My House in Umbria – Maggie Smith is wonderful in this adaptation of a novel by William Trevor, which I hadn’t heard of, let alone read.
The Chronicles of Narnia – (see pic, ahem) I grew up watching these, and won’t hear a word against them. The beavers are REAL, ok? Beavers are seven foot tall, I’m sure. And the White Witch was terrifying.
Carrington – haven’t seen this yet… but the 18 rating is putting me off…
Not in picture:
Also have Iris, a brilliant turn by Judi Dench as Iris Murdoch, and Brief Encounter, from Coward’s play ‘Still Life’, but they’re not here at present…