Prevarication?

 

 

 

 

The weather cools further: this time I may have the French door open, but I do not have the small fan on.  By such things one measure the descent to the depths of autumn and on to winter!  I am also doing up my coat when I go for my second bike ride, rather than leaving it unzipped.

     On my bike ride to Gavà on the beach side paseo, I see more evidence of the removal of the last of the temporary chiringuitos, a true commercial indication of the changing of the seasons.  But, in spite of all these portents, the weather remains generally fine, and I have not had to take the car to my early morning swim, so far!

     Although my timing for my swim is exact, the time that I leave for my bike ride to Gavà differs, depending on whether I have written anything of consequence in my notebook, or if I am engaged in conversation with people in the café, but seemingly at whatever time I leave, there are the Unknown Regulars that I pass or am passed by.

     The start of Autumn sees the re-emergence of all the retired folk who have been nudged off their parts of the paseo by the summer visitors and the kids.  Now that the kids are (mostly) back in school there is a sort of spaciousness to the beach area which is being reclaimed by those of a certain age.  Some of them (us?) are defiant in their appearance and their actions, relentlessly throwing themselves into the cooling waters of the Med or parading along the paseo in temperature-ignoring wispy coverings and pretending that the summer is still with us.

     There are plenty of cyclists, many of whom are in Lycra and, at first glance, look to be common or garden wearers of that revealing material, but a more searching look shows that the costumes are holding the riders together rather than making them more aerodynamic!  But that is to be commended.  Just as TV series are now ‘colour blind’ when it comes to casting, so clothing is ‘body-blind’ – you wear what you want and the fit is what you decide it is, rather than having to make reference to some sort of unobtainable body-ideal that can only be achieved by self-inflicted starvation or torture in the gym!

     You can see where this is going.  It will end up with my justifying anything in a reductio ad absurdam that (in spite of the poor Latin) will allow me to feel smug!

     Enough!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I find that I am oppressed not by the number of books that I have, but rather their weight.  I have lived with ‘too many books’ since I was a kid, so that in my smallish bedroom I had to be careful when I awoke as the shelves on my bedside wall, actually stretched over the bed itself, so that I slid out of bed rather than rose from it!    

     There was never enough space and gradually every room in the house became, as my mother would phrase it, “infested” with books.

     The move from Cardiff to Catalonia was beset with problems because of the number of books that had to be housed (or flatted) and not all of my prized possessions made it onto new shelves in my new country, but an inordinate number of IKEA Billy Bookcases later and a substantial number of the books found a space.  Not that the space was coherent, as the moves from Cardiff, to storage, to flat, to releasing more storage, to house meant that an overall system was never really imposed on my books and in the various rooms of the house there are now what you could describe as “colonies” of like-minded books forming interesting islands of partial coherence but separate from an over-arching empire of classification.

     I must admit that I have got used to the disparate nature of my literary holdings and quite enjoy the serendipitous discovery of a long-lost volume tucked somewhere where it has not logical reason to be.  Some of the juxtapositioning of some of my books simply looks far too contrived to be aleatory, but I assure you that however pretentious the shelf might look to the outside eye, it is what it is by luck rather than intention!

     The problem that I am presently wrestling with is to do with the placement of new books.  In spite of the lack of available space, that has in no way hindered my purchase of new volumes that I “need”.  And sometimes “need” is augmented by “bargain” – in the sense of value for money.

      I try and tell myself that I have no problem in paying an inordinate amount of money for a decent seat in the Opera, but I would hesitate to pay the same amount of money for a book.  Even though books, I have to admit, have given me more (if different) pleasure than Opera.  I can pay a triple figure sum for a seat for a momentary experience, but not pay the same amount for something that can give lasting tangible pleasure.

     I am not the sort of person to pay vast sums of money for a first edition.  The first editions I have were bought because I bought the books when they came out first.  I do have a 1702 edition of Swift, but that was an unexpected gift and not something that I bought for myself.

     My problem was that Taschen Books had a sale.

     Taschen Books is an imprint that produces spectacularly impressive volumes as well as what you might call domestic books, but their key, or one of their USP is in producing books that are large, opulent, and very heavy.

     In the on-line sale I bought a number of these books which, when they were delivered, it was impossible to carry them all upstairs at the same time.  It is also difficult to hold them and if you rest them on your knees, they crush them.  They are ‘table’ books and, when they are opened up, they need a big table to accommodate them.

     At the moment they form an arty looking pile by the side of my chair, looking almost like a stage prop of a pile of large books.  The trouble is that I have nowhere to put them.

     A set of my large art books are in an extra open section that I have attached to the top of a whole series of Billy Bookcases.  But these books are too big to fit into those oversized shelves and anyway, the idea of reaching up and bringing one of them down to reader level without doing irreparable harm to yourself, or at least breaking an arm or a hand is not to be considered.

     Their weight is too great when they are put on any domestic normal shelf for it to survive.  They have to be put at the base of the bookcase, but it means taking out two shelves to fit them in – and I simply do not have the room to rearrange without (perish the thought) actually getting rid of some of my books.

     So, they sit there at the moment, like a monument, waiting for life to rearrange itself so that they can be enjoyed.

     I have spent my life, giving preference to books, and I am girding my literary loins to Find A Solution.

     The books will win.  They always win!

 

It's only a thought!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fig and crumbled goat’s cheese salad, followed by grilled vegetables with herbed oil, concluding with fresh fruit salad: an excellent and astonishingly healthy (for me) lunch in the restaurant of the Maritime Museum in Barcelona with my good friend Suzanne.

     This was the first time that we had seen each other since the summer, and we had the usual lively conversation where the food (excellent though it was) came a distant second to the words with which we surrounded ourselves!

     Out of all the things we talked about, the one which has stuck in my mind was related to a comment that Suzanne made as we bewailed the idiocy of so many people in the world who were simply behaving very badly.  The perennial question of course, is what is to be done to make the situation better?

 

     

 

 

 

 Suzanne’s suggestion was that some sort of international organization like The United Nations Organization should encourage people to come together and produce a list of “Ten books that everyone should read” and then actively encourage their dissemination and consumption.

     My initial reaction was to say, “Thus starts World War III!”  And I could imagine a Lincoln-like figure of authority coming up to Suzanne amid the rubble and wreckage of the World Book Armageddon and saying, “So, you’re the little lady who started this big war!”

 

 

 

     The major religions would probably consider their texts a shoe-in as the most important, so the Christian Bible, The Quran, The Talmud, The Vedas, texts from Buddhism, Shintoism, Taoism and Sikhism – and you’ve almost used up the ten slots and you’ve left out religious texts from a significant number of other continents – to say nothing of other more fringe religions that would make a good case for the consideration of their ‘sacred’ texts.

     What about considering texts of socio-political importance like Animal Farm and Utopia and The Prince and Leviathan and . . . too many other books to consider.  Or texts about history, or art, or architecture, or music, or philosophy, or . . . so the list goes on.

     I can imagine the discussion.  And I can imagine more easily the discussion descending into rancour and outright violence.  So, just to simplify somewhat the problems surrounding any choice, let’s try and limit things, so that the macro problems of some sort of ‘absolute’ text to go into the World UNO Ten Selected Books, can be considered from a more domestic perspective.

     And that ‘perspective’ suggests another problem. 

     If I think about my personal choice of Ten Texts, then I would start from a background of English Literature and Literature in English.  If I push myself further, then my choice might become a little more pan-European, but my selection will still be limited to fairly conventional Great Literature and Great Thinkers, who are overwhelmingly Western, white, and dead.

     For the sake of attempting something that is within my range, instead of trying to cope with my upbringing, perspective, cultural background, ethnicity, class, etc. I will embrace what I have to work with and think about something that I can achieve and relate things directly to my read experience.

     I will think about the problem of the Global nature suggested by Suzanne’s thought and suggestion, by seeing how something would work by using my experience in the limited area of English Literature, and choose ten books that might fit the bill.

     I find that I am presented not with a range of opportunity, but with a disturbing number of questions about choice.

     Should I be thinking of a History of English Literature approach that starts with something like Beowulf, takes in Chaucer and goes on to Shakespeare as writers providing the first three texts?  But all three pose real problems: Beowulf is written in Early English; Chaucer writes in Middle English and Shakespeare writes in, well, Shakespearean English – none of which is easy to read if you are used to Modern English.

     So, should the choice of Ten Books be not on a strict historical approach but something more like a populist approach, something which more easily invites a reader in, rather than something that demands a certain amount of knowledge and sensitivity to time and place to gain a full understanding of the text?

     But, I feel that there might also be a “no pain, no gain” element inherent in the worth of a significant piece of literature (and I can feel the speech marks forming around many of the words that I have used in the sentence so far) so that if you don’t have to make an effort to understand or appreciate the quality of the writing and the thought behind it, then perhaps it is no more than entertainment, and is not something to be considered Great or even Worthwhile literature.

     So, I will further limit myself to books that are unintimidating, works that can be understood by an educated reader.  I know that ‘understood’ and ‘educated’ are words that demand some sort of definition, and perhaps the constant feeling that more explanation is necessary before a selection can be made is an indication of the difficulty of the whole project.

     But, let me stick to my limits of books in English Literature; reasonably accessible; in some ways of universal significance.

 

     So, my choice of Ten Texts That Everyone Should Read are:

 

1     Animal Farm by George Orwell

2     Songs of Innocence and Experience                 by William Blake

3     Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad            

4    Great Expectations by Charles                           Dickens

5     Emma by Jane Austen

6     Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland by               Lewis Carroll

7     Lord of the Flies by William Golding

8     A Modest Proposal by Jonathan Swift

9     Rain and other stories by Somerset                 Maugham

10    Stalky and Co by Rudyard Kipling

 

I’ve just typed them, and I am already having second and third and fourth thoughts, and I think that this is something that I will come back to!

     But Suzanne’s comment has made me think, and, as these are only my first thoughts, perhaps it is only fair that I return to this concept another time!