On DeviantArt I saw the announcement of this site: Utherworlds by Philip Straub. See the paintings, read the message. 
Lovely way to start the day.
PS I should have mentioned that Utherworlds is ‘a new kind of’ graphic novel (see here). I know some of you like graphic novels, though not necessarily the term itself. I like the fact that this one is described as ambitious… I love ‘ambitious’ when it looks like this.
I’m finding my current book habit hard to shake!
Just finished:
Tolkien and the Critics: essays on J.R.R. Tolkien’s ‘Lord of the Rings’ (ed Neil D Isaacs and Rose A Zimbardo)
Might write about that later. The book was dirty… some of the stains looked as though they were older than my big sister (and probably very nearly were).
Currently reading:
The Memoirs of Cleopatra (by Margaret George) [I'm on the home straight!]
My Dear Cassandra: The Illustrated Letters of Jane Austen (intro and ed by Penelope Hughes-Hallett & Elizabeth Drury) [It's sitting beside my bed... currently overtaken by the following book...]
Under Brinkie’s Brae (by George Mackay Brown) [He was writing these little snippets back in the 70s, and comes out with some real gems. Like when they finally got three TV channels in Orkney (having had only BBC1 up till then), and he realized it was still just the beginning. He wonders if the increase in technology might not make for 'colder social relations' in the future].
Starbucked (by Taylor Clark) [It was in a charity shop. I don't like Starbucks coffee (flavoured foam), but I like the couches. Figured I might as well read the book. ]
Book Wishlist:
Mistakes Were Made (but Not by Me)
Procrastination: Why You Do It, What to Do About It
The Now Habit [Unfortunately doesn't seem to be available from the UK book shops just now, but it seems to be one of the more popular books on procrastination].
Watching the English: The Hidden Rules of English Behaviour [At last I will be able to figure some of you out. 
]
Was going to have a list of books waiting their turn to be read, but if I’m going to be listing them in the future as books I am reading or have read, that could easily turn a bit repetitive.
Off to bed to pick up Under Brinkie’s Brae again… it has sobering stories of women of long ago, such as Betty Corrigall with her outcast’s grave.
I wrote this days and days ago, but was distracted by computer problems. It’s supposed to be a Jane Austen type letter, but doesn’t succeed well.
Life goes on the same as ever. Our days alternate between sun and rain; blue sky and grey cloud.
We sallied forth to a local beauty spot — the intention being for Mother to sketch and for myself to take photographs. In the event, neither of us did anything, feeling uninspired by the tamed and cultivated beauty around us.
We took our ease on a bench, gazing upon a breathtaking vista of small waterfalls and lilies, neat rockeries with tall, swaying trees in the distance… each doubtless chosen to complement the next. The leaves moved in family groups; some like stirring clouds of maroon mist; others shivering and shaking, turning their pale silver bellies to the uncertain sun.
In similar case, a bevy of beauties sets a clamour on the senses, whereas one in solitude is seen to better advantage — thus we cordially agreed to put aside our artistic endeavours until the autumn should move in, causing all of this beauty to fade. Death, decay and drama is of prime interest, causing creative energies to come to the full. For who can resist a scene of ‘nature red in tooth and claw?’
However, following recent visits to the dentist, I flinch from the topic of teeth. Red teeth are all very well in nature, but less so in civilized society. Fortunately, our dearest Delilah has wriggled her red claws under my door (inciting her little cat games) so we can turn from the subject with relief, and tantalize her with bits of paper and string.
I trust you are all in the best of health and enjoying your many and varied pursuits to the full. Wrap up warm and don’t forget to write as soon as you blow in from the cold. I always love to receive your news, especially when read by a warm fireside.
Yours affectionately,
Diddums (with apologies to Jane Austen)
Just finished:
Shopped: The Shocking Power of British Supermarkets by Joanna Blythman.
In one place she describes driving through an area with a sea of supermarket crops stretching to the horizon. There were boards with the name of the supermarket they were being grown for, but the boards were later taken down.
That passage in the book reminded me of Puss in Boots.
I asked, “Who owns these fields? Who owns these crops?”
“My master the Marquis of Asda,” said Mum.
Agoraphobia is sometimes seen as ‘the supermarket disease’… perhaps something in us is trying to tell us something! After a big crash I had (some years ago), I was only able to get myself shopping for food again by going to a smaller shop for a while, even though I had to walk further to get there. I found myself thinking at the time that it would be a disaster for people like me if the small shops disappeared for good.
Jane Austen: A Life by Claire Tomalin.
Lots of information and food for thought, making you feel as though Jane has just written a blog post about the kind of day she’s having. Sometimes, though, I found the writing confusing, and was surprised at the number of Amazon comments saying how clear the book is! We can differ on that, I guess… the book is still worth reading, and there are portraits of the Austens’ friends and family.
Still reading:
Memoirs of Cleopatra by Margaret George.
A very fat book which interrupts your general reading schedule a little too long, which is why I diverged to the other books… but now I’m back to this one. It’s beautiful, enjoyable, eye-opening, and there’s not a dull page in it. I’m having the same experience as the reader who finds herself crying over certain long-past events. There are 29 five-star reviews on Amazon UK for it, but don’t read them…. read the book!
My Dear Cassandra: Jane Austen (letters selected and introduced by Penelope Hughes-Hallett).
Interesting to read straight after the Claire Tomalin book… it clarifies or consolidates a few things, and makes me think differently on others. There is also a different set of pictures and portraits to look at!
How to Get Happily Published by Judith Appelbaum.
An American book; not sure how relevant the advice is to the British publishing scene, but the chance are that many aspects of it are relevant! What attracted me was how I had been pondering that my reasons for not getting to grips with any of this are: (1) not wanting my ‘dear ones’ (as Jane Austen would put it) to end up on some tottering, miserable slush pile; (2) fearing how I would handle editorial rejection. The blurb of this book mentions both issues. I have only just started reading it, so that’s all I can say (oh how I hate Amazon reviews that say that!! But this is a blog post and I’m just telling the world what I’m currently reading… that’s my excuse, anyway).
Stopped reading:
Mansfield Park by Jane Austen…
(…you’ll be surprised to hear!) I read this book at least twice before, despite never liking it. I was curious about certain issues and wanted to try it again. This particular copy of the book wasn’t one of mine; not sure where it came from! So when I got to page five and found a dirty chocolatey smudge, I was as put off as though I’d found a hair in my curry. I probably have another, cleaner copy in the bookcase; I’ll read that instead, some time…
For anyone who is not so keen on Mansfield Park, like myself, the Amazon comments have a few slants to consider.
General rabbiting:
Cassandra and Jane Austen wrote to each other about twice a week whenever apart; I can’t help envying that! What struck me was how an aunt of theirs said Jane (at least when younger) showed a tendency to be whimsical and affected. Of course that surprised me, as I thought she was firmly on the side of being calm and sensible! When you read Jane’s letters to her sister, however, you can see why her aunt might have said that. Jane believed in laughter and in not taking things too seriously… so it tallies. In addition, Jane may have seen her letters to friends and family as an alternative avenue for her main writing style, particularly when she knew they were enjoying her books.
Her letters are bright and witty, and warm enough in places, but there is a vein of mockery and sometimes careless nastiness (some of the people she wrote about would have thought so!) But I’ve only just started reading, and she was only 20.
My sister and I don’t write to each other twice a week (even by email) but we feel a connection when laughing at the outside world. It seems a way of confirming our own similarity and ‘roots’… even our own generation…. and of keeping events from getting too ‘heavy’.
I’m in with the ‘in’ crowd
I go where the ‘in’ crowd goes
I’m in with the ‘in’ crowd
And I know what the ‘in’ crowd knows
(lyrics by Billy Page)
(In no particular order):
Cookery
Bought an Asian cookbook, which includes recipes for dishes we love but haven’t often had. For Mum: Nasi Goreng; for me: steamed dumplings, dim sum and chicken & rice porridge. I made a bland and tasteless mess of the latter after following the recipe my Singaporean friend gave me (it was delicious when he made it!) but the one in the book might work better.
Bryce
Saw some cheap and nasty wall ornaments in a charity shop and thought “those could be used as textures in Bryce!” On second thoughts… there’s such a thing as going overboard. Didn’t buy them!
Jane Austen
Still reading Jane Austen: A Life by Claire Tomalin. Very thought-provoking. Would I have liked Jane? I’ve not come to definite conclusions, but possibly not. I expect she wouldn’t have liked me. I think I’m more like the neighbour lady she shunned; the one who was very nervous and wrote about falling stars and rainbows.
The Terminator
Mum came home on Friday with an eyeful of blood.
She tapped my shoulder and I looked round… and got a shock! Her optician claims he hasn’t seen a worse one, but all he advised her to do was go home and rest. After she headed off downstairs, muttering about “not feeling any sympathy”, my head buzzed and I felt ill.
Not like Jane Austen, who (on the face of it) greeted health complaints from her mother with good-humoured amusement. She never had much use for ladies who got in a fluster and needed smelling salts. Mind you, you realize that just from reading her novels!
Next day I said to Mum (her eye still glowing a deep cherry red) “how’s our Terminator this fine morning?” (It looked even worse). Then thought “maybe I’m not that different from Jane Austen!” I expect she’d have watched all the Arnie Schwarzenegger films if she’d been living in my time, and might have made the same joke.
Went to town with the Terminator to feed the cats. It was quite crowded (people fighting over parking spaces and gathering in the square to watch some band or other). The Terminator (who was wearing dark sunglasses) wanted milk and bread. I said Tesco’s would be busy and horrid, but we could stroll round Aldi’s and terrify the staff relax.
While there, we picked up a few more ingredients for my Asian cooking. Spring onions, prawns, peppers, dried chillies (for when we don’t have fresh), medium egg noodles… and Nasi Goreng!
Terminators love Nasi Goreng. Bet you didn’t know that.
This morning I woke thinking, “metaphorically speaking, I live in Cranford!”
I’ve not been conscious of that thought before. What sparked it off was remembering something my father said. He died years ago, and I suddenly realized that though there are men around, I live surrounded by women. There are no men ‘in my life’ as such.
I wasn’t one of those who grew up with brothers. For a time I even went to an all-girls’ school. All that I thought I knew about men when growing up was garnered from Mills and Boon and Georgette Heyer. Also Maurice Walsh, John Buchan, Neil M. Gunn, Lewis Grassic Gibbon, John Steinbeck, T.H. White, J. R. Tolkien, Dorothy Dunnett, Jane Austen, Elizabeth Gaskell and C.S. Forester, just in case you think ‘trashy novels’ was all I read!
(I kept adding to that list while writing this blog post… I better publish this quick before I have time to add more).
Not that any of those books really helped. Maurice Walsh in particular seemed (in his writing) to elevate women (those that counted) to a sort of pedestal of goddesshood. I found that attractive, of course — considering myself always a woman who would count. But it doesn’t tell you anything about what real life is like, and how sometimes people don’t really see you as a person in your own right…. or would see, but don’t have time to.
Right now I’m reading two books about Jane Austen’s life; one of them said that people had to fight very hard in her family ‘to count,’ and if you didn’t, you just disappeared. One woman wasn’t mentioned beyond a certain point in surviving letters… out of sight, out of mind, perhaps. But the fact that whe was out of sight is significant.
Usually when I heard about a girl who had grown up ‘in a house of boys’ and knew more than I did about the nature of the beast, my thought was usually, “that can’t have been very nice! Smelly socks and muddy footballs!” But today my reaction is more “well don’t hold that out to me as a virtue! You lucked out in having a wider experience.”
I have men friends of course, but have not seen any for years, as they have all married and are emailing from other places (not that frequently). Having wives and children makes them somewhat awkward as correspondents. And this morning it occurred to me all of a sudden that, nowadays, (in my day-to-day life; blogs, other websites and emails aside) I only interact with women.
Actually, it could be that many women (even married mothers) would feel something similar! I don’t discount that at all.
Years ago, Mum was talking to a friend and neighbour, and turned to me. “What about you?” she said. “Do you find it easier to talk to a group that’s all men or a group that’s all women?”
I automatically answered “women!” After all, that’s how I grew up. Then I had second thoughts, drawing on my own experiences… and admitted that actually I wasn’t sure; sometimes a group of men could be very easy-going and courteous, whereas women would be quite catty… either to you or about someone not in the room.
“Yes, that’s what we were saying,” said Mum.
But, I added, the absolute worst kind of group includes both men and women! Suddenly the atmosphere is completely different. Perhaps they are more territorial about who belongs to whom; trying hard to look good in front of the other sex; avoiding subjects they would normally discuss only with their own gender… there’s a much more formal element to the gathering.
It crossed my mind to wonder if this ‘one-sideness’ in my life contributed anything to the agoraphobia. It’s often repeated that the statistics show that most agoraphobics are women, but it’s generally dismissed as indicating that men are less likely to admit they are struggling. I’m sure that’s true too. But even while that is being said, it’s also said that some women are prone to agoraphobia because their lives have been too sheltered! All decisions are made for them, including who they’re allowed to see. All of a sudden they’re expected to go forth and multiply, and do well in a world full of men, making their own decisions every day. It’s particularly hard when you’re quiet and not so out-going, and have to fight to be seen and to count.
‘They say’ that there’s a difference between academic qualifications and the wisdom of the streets, and it’s usually those with the latter talent who do best. For centuries, they’ve said ‘people who read books are dreamers’.
Somewhat connected: ‘they say’ that people with the best quality university degrees aren’t guaranteed success. Sometimes the less academically-apt (even at university) will do better, usually because their lives didn’t become all about the studying.
‘They say’ that people with a poor and deprived childhood will often grow up stronger (I’m sure that’s not always true. Often my memories of my happy and loving childhood are both reassuring and supportive).
‘They say’ that the most successful know how to manipulate get on with other people… that would include both genders!
All in all, it was a very interesting train of thought to wake up to, and I was paralyzed by it for about 15 minutes…. then I went downstairs, got myself a bowl of cereal, and picked up one of the Jane Austen biographies. Started a new chapter, and it was headed ‘Boys’! Apparently she was one of those annoying well-balanced women who grew up in a household full of these mysterious creatures. She had one sister, but also six brothers (including one who was mostly ‘out of sight’ — was he deaf?), and her parents ran a small school for boys.
Oh well… lucky her. But regardless of that, perhaps I’m about to read about how she didn’t really count that much in her family, being unmarried and childless. That might be what all this talk about ‘having to fight to count’ is leading up to… or perhaps it’s entirely the opposite, and is all about what an intelligent, independent individual she was; well able to hold her own, even in such a family!
We’ll see.
Tinting nowhere near finished...
Decided I couldn’t carry on reading Doctor Syn on the High Seas as it was so bad! Even when you think “it’s short and I’ll soon finish,” you find that you would rather do something else than pick it up.
Cast it aside in favour of A 2nd Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul… I never read the first helping. Mum got this paperback from a stall and gave it to me years ago, and there it was taking up space on the bookshelves, so I decided to give it a go.
My first thought was that it’s annoying in places, and sets your teeth on edge in others, but there are some good, funny and genuinely touching bits, and is a much better read than Doctor Syn. I can pick the bits I want to read and skip the rest.
I’m reading all the books I probably won’t keep, in an effort to free up space on the bookshelves — and that’s a bit topsy-turvy, as it means I’m reading the less desirable books over the ones I’m cherishing (and not yet reading!) Mum said I should go through the classics I probably won’t read again. I suppose she means Aeschylus and Aristophanes. But I’m always referring to them! Seriously…
The next day I was still ricochetting through the Chicken Soup when Mum came home and handed me two digital photography manuals from the library. So far the first book (50 Fast Digital Photo Projects by Gregory Georges and Lauren Georges) hasn’t taught me anything new (I think it’s for absolute beginners), but it did inspire me to go upstairs and try tinting a monochromatic photo of our shed.
This shoogly shed from Argos was the one Mum thought we would have to live in if the credit crunch really bit. I suppose having a print of it to sell wouldn’t be such a bad idea. We could run off 50 copies, and if nobody wanted to buy them, we could use them to paper over the cracks in the walls of our new home. I nearly said ‘100 copies’ but I think 50 copies would quite comfortably cover them.
I eventually got cross with the Chicken Soup book because chicken soup is meant to be comforting, and this wasn’t. There is a lot of material about saying or showing your love to family members before they die, and those are in sections such as ‘love’ and ‘family’. I skipped more and more (mopping at my eyes), and when we arrived at a whole section called ‘Death and Dying’, I gave up.
I would rather listen to Dido, and tint monochromatic images of our shed.
And I try to pick out tunes, I hum a little,
a good cure for sleep, and the tears start,
I cry for the hard times come to the house,
no longer run like the great place of old.
Oh for a blessed end to all our pain,
some godsend burning through the dark…
[The Oresteia by Aeschylus, translated by Robert Fagles]
I was going to call this post ‘Saturday Friday Blogging’ but that seemed a bit clunky!
Friday 17th April 2009
We went to Waterstones and I looked at a Sign Language Companion book. I wondered why it was on its own — a companion is not meant to be alone.
In the Self Help section I saw a book called Mistakes Were Made (but Not by Me). It reminded me of thoughts I had the other night. You hope that if someone has treated you scurvily in the past, that they will have had reason to repent. Some might, but others will simply assume they were right. Even if harried by the sneaking suspicion that they weren’t, or that it wasn’t so clear-cut, they will justify their beliefs and actions to themselves and to others.
We ordered a sign language book in the library. One is out on loan and the other is on the library circuit, I think. There were two copies of Overcoming Low Self-Esteem by Melanie Fennell — I borrowed one along with Digital Art Photography for Dummies by Matthew Bamberg, MA. To Mum I said, a bit meanly, that it was ironic that the sign language books were unavailable (though seemingly in demand) and meanwhile there are duplicates of the book on low self-esteem. It’s almost as though they are sticky plasters for when we discover that books on British Sign Language are less well stocked than books on German and Mandarin. Mum said, “that’s not ironic, that’s inefficient.”
They were doing a CD sale in the library — we all got some, but I bought the most:
The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings (soundtrack)
The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers (soundtrack)
Armageddon — The Album
Blondie: The Essential Collection
Phil Collins… Hits
Lady Sings the Blues
Rock Chicks
Fiddler on the Roof (30th Anniversary Edition)
Crystal Gayle
Country Collection Vol 2 (original artists)
When I got home it struck me as ironic (or possibly inefficient) that I bought these despite having only one working hearing aid. The other has a wet filter for the second time running, and not through any mistake of mine…
The song in my head (though I’ve not tried to listen to any of the CDs yet) is Don’t it Make My Brown Eyes Blue by Crystal Gayle. Lovely voice.
I didn’t mean to treat you bad
Didn’t know just what I had
But, honey, now I do
And don’t it make my brown eyes, don’t it make my brown eyes, don’t it make my brown eyes blue…
There was something I did when I was studying at school that was oddly interesting in later years; I was writing biology notes in a folder, and at the top of each page (to wake myself up, presumably) I got in the habit of writing the name of a favourite song. ‘Dream a Lie’ by UB40 was one. So you look back at these notes, and there are all these old songs I was listening to at the time… quite atmospheric.
I’ve sometimes thought about reviving that in my journal, but mostly now I sit in silence, and so the songs mentioned are just the ones stuck in my head. At the moment it’s Forever Live and Die by OMD. That takes me right back to a book I was reading about 20 years ago… about drifters. It was sad, and seemed to fit in with the song. I can’t even remember what book it was — just the cold grip of it.
I was feeling a touch depressed over the past couple of days… just life! In my sleep I was thinking how I couldn’t get interested in anything, even pairing up my socks. I went to town and didn’t want to do anything or look at anything… I looked at sketch pads and pencils, and thought how I would have been all over them once. Now I couldn’t care less.
Then tonight ‘The Number One Ladies’ Detective Agency’ came on TV, and that was just what the doctor ordered. I love that. I particularly love how she seems to feel no need to involve the police or the law! I’ve only read the first book… I must read the rest.
Been nosing around the charity shops again. I got more books… recently it’s usually been Dean Koontz, so today rang the changes.
Humour books:
Loosely Engaged by Christopher Matthew (Oxfam, £2.99)
Mrs Parkinson’s Law by C. Northcote Parkinson and illustrated by Robert Osborn (Oxfam, £2.49)
The Law of Delay by C. Northcote Parkinson and illustrated by Osbert Lancaster (Oxfam, £2.49)
Art books:
Photomosaics by Robert Silvers, edited by Michael Hawley (Oxfam, £1.49… got this a couple of days ago)
Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain: How to Unlock Your Hidden Artistic Talent (c’mon out of there!) by Betty Edwards
Also in the photo: Pentax Supaclean microfibre cleaning cloth (local optician, £2.75)!
I liked the cheerful yellow… and I keep losing these things; there’s always just one hanging about while the rest have gone on holiday. I’ll put this one in my bedside drawer, and when I finally can’t find one anywhere, I’ll break it out. I like things to stay in their packages for a while, all shiny and new…
The photomosaics are lovely. Like many others, we’ve completed the odd photomosaic jigsaw. The Yoda is in one of the photomosaics in the book, and it’s incredible that you can see the bags under his eyes. There’s also one of Vincent Van Gogh, along with a quotation by him: “The more ugly, older, cantankerous, more ill and poorer I become, the more I try to make amends by making my colours more vibrant, more balanced and beaming.”
It was Mum who found the drawing book. She had been telling me the other day that there was a bit of news on the radio saying that men look at women with only the right side of their brains, whereas women look at men using both sides. She opened the drawing book, and it fell open at ‘Perceiving the Shape of a Space: The Positive Aspects of Negative Space.’
Ha.
This is also the source of the Bugs Bunny analogy, which I mentioned in my Negative Space post. I begin to realize, though, that negative space is always ‘the other’, depending on whatever you consider to be the ‘positive’ elements of the picture.
I wonder if Delilah looks at Samson with the left side of her brain as well as her right?
 | ThomasLB on Doubting Oneself |
 | diddums on Deafness and Depression |
 | Pacian on Deafness and Depression |
| diddums on Bond Cats |
| ThomasLB on Bond Cats |
| diddums on Subtitle Grumble |
