Comfortable Disorientation

Persephone Books

At my book club last night, Rache brought Miss Pettigrew Lives For a Day by Winifred Watson and published by Persephone Books.

Unlike most of our books, this one wasn't to be put up for loan, Rache quite justifiably wanted to keep hold of it. She did pass it round though, so we took turns fondling the book while cooing and gushing over the brilliance of the Persephone concept as well as the ravishing design. Many girl-words of approval were uttered such as "gorgeous", "bee-you-ti-ful" and more unusually, "vaginal" (this last in reference as to why the endpaper design would make wonderful bedroom wallpaper).

I'd not come across this publisher before, but am already looking forward to paying the shop a visit. Each of their books is a rediscovered classic from the twentieth-century, usually about or by women and selected for its "special quality". Lovingly packaged in dove-grey jackets and carefully selected fabric endpapers - they're wonderfully covetable and now firmly tagged 'great potential gifts' in my mind.

Horror fiction

   

One of the many reasons I love fiction is that it offers a great way of exploring complicated, emotive and sensitive issues in a way that doesn't glibly simplify them or reach all-too-easy conclusions.  In the past week I've found myself ruminating on what fiction (through the three books above) has taught me about some of the potential causes and effects of multiple shootings in US schools and colleges.

On his blog, Mark Earls is asking why journalistic commentators on the horrific recent events at Virginia Tech all seem to be willing to run with the "mad loner" explanation.  Meanwhile Scott Pack is discussing what the same events may mean for Jodi Picault's recently published Nineteen Minutes, a book which takes a high school shooting as a central theme. Scott also mentions Incendiary, which is a brilliant book in which a terrorist bombing at a football match is the catalyst for the story - I'd offer to lend it out but I've already given it away. (By the way, does anyone want any of my other books? I view my bookshelves as temporary storage only and would be delighted for some of them to find new readers)

Back to the point, It doesn't need to be written fiction either.  I haven't watched A Secret Life yet, but reading reviews - namely Andrew Collins (who appears to share my opinions on most things but articulates much better than I can) and Susan Hill's - it seems this is another good example of how fictionalised accounts can somehow do justice to horrifically sensitive issues in a way that straightforward reporting often struggles do. 

Authors of good fiction tend to be thoughtful, introspective types.  They need to care about their characters in order to make them believable. Even the monsters need to be human. I suspect this is why I find their approach to exploring these issues more palatable than a lot of news reporting.

Ha! get this...it's uncanny...I've just discovered that Matthew MacFadyen who stars in A Secret Life is currently filming Incendiary - in a stroke he's become my new favourite actor!  It's also going to star Michelle Williams, I really, really hope she can get the voice right, it's her character's voice which makes this book so powerful.

My Murakami prejudice

In my head, Haruki Murakami sits in a bracket with Douglas Copeland. The bracket is for authors that people rave about but who leave me with a hollow, disappointed feeling. This view has always been based on the assumption that I have read two of Murakami’s novels: South Of The Border, West Of The Sun and The Wind Up Bird Chronicle – the latter of which is typically considered the author’s best work.

But it turns out I’ve never read The Wind Up Bird Chronicle – I discovered this recently and am still a bit confused about it. I’ve definitely read, and disliked, something that I thought was this book, but heaven knows what it was.

Yet the Murakami prejudice prevails. I’ve made a start on The Wind Up Bird Chronicle and am telling myself to keep an open mind, but I can’t shake the expectation that I’m not going to like it. Worse, I’m worrying that not liking it will mean I’m missing something, and by implication that I’m not as astute as I’d like to think I am.

As a pre-emptive ego defence strategy, I’ve been reading reviews of the book online. I’m thinking that if I can understand what others love about the book, I’ll be better attuned to appreciating it for myself. It seemed sensible to ask here as well – if you’re a Murakami fan and/or loved this book, please tell me why. I’ll record my thoughts on it when I’m done. Ideally, I will have changed my opinion of the author, but if not, I want to be clear on why he’s not for me.

For the bookshop dreamers

Susan Hill reckon's the time is ripe. From her recent post on book trade predictions:

3. THE DEATH OF THE BRICKS-AND-MORTAR BOOKSHOP.

Now I believe this. No, correction. I believe it to a certain extent. The end is in sight for chains of identikit large bookstores on the High Street. The announcement yesterday of the imminent death of BORDERS and BOOKS ETC.  - make no mistake, 'sale' will mean 'death' - has changed everything at a stroke.

Chains of identikit dedicated bookstores on High Streets cost a fortune to maintain - rents, rates, staff wages, insurance, Head Offices, overheads.... the way prices of popular front-lists are being slashed mean profits are dropping. Those chains will be no more. There will be the supermarkets for a limited range - very very limited. There will be WHS and Woolworths - slightly bigger but still front-list only. And there is amazon.

BUT.. think. Does this not present a golden golden opportunity ? Just as small independent publishers are popping up all over the place and doing well - not making fortunes but they are small so they don't have to make a fortune, just a living - so there is, I am absolutely convinced, a golden window of opportunity - I love phrases like that - for a lot of small independent bookshops. They will cram their shelves in a delightful way with a wide range of unusual and varied books. If people want the front list, the books can be ordered from the wholesalers and in store the next day - but the rest will be shelves of delight, the old-fashioned sort of bookshop, where you came upon something unexpected at every turn and never left empty-handed. They do not need to be on the High Street, they need to be in a side street OFF there. They should be small to medium, and it takes genius to get them right. But they are opening and they are being 'got right.'  Nic in Bath, Patrick in Chipping Norton, Topping in Ely, Mostly Books in Abingdon, branches of Daunts in London and on and on. This is exactly time for small independent bookshops to rejoice and not to disappear down a deep drain of whingeing and foot-shooting.

If I were twenty years younger......

Bounty!

A clear-out in the office yesterday revealed a hidden stash of old paperbacks.  I was beside myself with glee when I was told I could take them home with me.

• Three Penguins
• A trove of Pelicans
• Some Chaucer with added reader doodles
• And the fabulous Time Off In Paris: The Observer Recommends 

As far as I can work out this last one was written in the 1960's.  I can't wait to go to Paris and use it.  It's given me the idea that whenever I go to a foreign city I should take an outdated travel guide. From the introduction, written by John Ardagh:

Paris night-life has a quite phoney reputation abroad.  It is probably much less vicious than London's or Hamburg's and no gayer than that of many cities.  There are plenty of commercialised nude-shows around Place Pigalle and the Champs-Elysees for those who like that sort of thing - Lido (large and spectacular) and the Crazy Horse Saloon (intimate) are by a long way the best.

I was surprised to find adverts in What Happened In History by Gordon Childe.  It was printed in 1942, so I guess this was a wartime concession from Penguin. I particularly love the Sanatogen nerve tonic one (click to see a larger images)

However for me, the real prize amongst this stash is Only One Earth: The Care and Maintenance of a Small Planet by Barbara Ward and Rene Dubos (who I've just discovered, is credited with penning the maxim 'think globally, act locally').

This book was originally published in 1972 and "set the key for the United Nations Conference on the Human Environment held in Stockholm" that year.  It was then handed out to 150 expert consultants across the world, who created over 400 pages of comment in what the preface describes as "a unique experiment in international collaboration".  Their correspondence has been summarised in the Introduction, and this 1974 publication contains a number of revisions. 

I haven't got too far in, but I'm really taken by it. It's fascinating to be reading something over 30 years old on a subject that seems so very now.  The authors end the introduction:

As we enter the global phase of human evolution it becomes obvious that each man has two countries, his own and Planet Earth.

Episodic storytelling

Ahhh, the satisfaction of a completed set. I was most relieved to receive my final instalment last week. Not only because by the end of the penultimate episode, the three heroes were left in a terrible pickle; but also because I had been quietly fretting about how the mask image drawn across the spine would be completed. Call me stupid, but it hadn't occurred to me that the final instalment might be thicker than the others!

 

The red background in these photos was a surprise inclusion in the last package, I think it's wrapping paper. It's labelled: Linda Florence 2006 for The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters. A nice little extra, though the idea that I might wrap the books up and give them to someone is a little peculiar.

Although I struggled remembering the characters from week to week - there was a Comte, a Contessa, a Cardinal and a Colonel - I really enjoyed the experience of reading this.  The pace was unrelenting, the heroes in a near-constant state of fight, flight, capture or escape.  This meant that the enforced breaks in the plot were often a welcome relief - if I'd read it as a single book it would have become all too much.  I imagine that watching multiple episodes of 24 all in one sitting would have the same effect - such intensity over a long period would be hard to take, and the idea that this had all taken place within 24 hours would become ridiculous to the point of incredulity.

G. W. Galquist, the Glass Books author, made exactly this point in his Guardian article, Make 'em cry, make 'em laugh, make 'em wait on the role and challenge of episodic storytelling. He makes several other good points too, it's worth a read.

I'm thinking that some people must be more predisposed to enjoying episodic storytelling than others.  As a Lost fan, I relish the wait between episodes.  I'm happy with the uncertainty and enjoy thinking about the mysteries from one week to the next.  But I know other people hate it, they find it frustrating and pointless. If they don't give up altogether, they want to rush ahead and get the next episode as quick as possible, or seek out spoilers to know what's going to happen in advance. 

Heroines

This week I was invited to the soiree that Jessica Ruston and Susan Hill were holding at Crockatt and Powell (a lovely little bookshop tucked away by Waterloo) for the launch of Jessica's book Heroines: The Bold, The Bad & The Beautiful.  I was stupidly excited about it.  Partly because I'd never been to a book launch before, but also because I've taken a real interest in this book ever since Jessica first put the call out to everyone she knows, asking "who are your heroines?"

What interested me is how the spectrum of heroines (which range from the obvious to the obscure, the indisputable to the frankly controversial) shows the complexity and breadth of femininity.  The women we admire represent a range different archetypes and are illuminating about our different and often conflicting aspirations.  Some are unquestionably worthy, others are a little troubling.  When giving my suggestions to Jessica, I felt uncomfortable that one of them was Bonnie Parker. But it was there, an instinctive response.  I was relieved to discover I wasn't alone.  A lot of us are drawn to bad girls, there's just something heroic about female deviancy on a spectacular scale.

Anyway, since Jessica is a friend and has now generously plied me with food, wine and a fabulous goody bag, giving her book a little plug feels like the least I can do.  It's lovely.  A perfect gift for the heroine in your life.

You can miss a lot by sticking to the point

Having said I wouldn't post about every book I read, I find I'm compelled to share this.  The Spirit Catches You And You Fall Down: A Hmong child, her American doctors and the Collision of two cultures by Anne Fadiman.

The title pretty much sums it up - it's about people from two cultures who utterly fail to understand each other, despite all desperately wanting the same thing.  I'm assuming the outcome is tragic, but I haven't got that far yet. 

This is the bit I wanted to share:

"The Hmong have a phrase, hais cuaj txub kaum txub, which means "to speak of all things." It is often used at the beginning of an oral narrative as a way of reminding the listeners that the world is full of things that may not seem to be connected but actually are; that no event occurs in isolation; that you can miss a lot by sticking to the point; and that the storyteller is likely to be rather long-winded."

I read this yesterday, the same day as I read Russell's post about the "Steven Johnson and Brian Eno thing"  and learnt about the idea of consilience.  I don't think it's quite the same concept, but it's close enough to feel spookily coincidental. 

More on books and design

One of the things I've really grown to love about blogging is the way it helps me to explore existing interests and develop new ones. 

I've always read a lot, but until a couple of years ago this was a solitary, private hobby.  Then I discovered bookcrossing and joined a bookclub. Suddenly, reading became something more active and social. My appreciation of books and what I got from them rocketed. This blog has become another place to vent my reading discoveries - I never intended it to be a book blog, but sometimes it heads in that direction. 

I've decided to add a list of the books I've read most recently to the sidebar.  I guess they're there as tentative conversation starters. Rather than blog about every book I read, I'll just put them up there and if one strikes someone's interest they can comment or email me. I'll either reply or post about them (whichever seems most appropriate).  I've promised myself not to edit out the dross, so it's there, warts and all.

I don't know much about graphic design, but I've been reading Noisy Decent Graphics for a while and found I've really enjoyed learning about it. Life is full of design, and I think I've always had a latent interest in it. I love the fact that this is developing into a more conscious awareness.  I've only just started exploring some of the links from Ben's blog, and to my delight I've discovered people blogging about book design AceJet 170, we made this and Book Covers Blog.

Books - an interest now further realised; Graphic design - a new but nascent fascination; Book cover design - rapidly turning into a passion.

Judging books by their covers

We all do it and I don't believe there's anything wrong with it. The look and feel of a book are all part of the experience. Once in a while it's nice to chance a discovery based on nothing more than visual attraction.

Publishers know that covers matter. I recently took part in an online survey on the matter for Harper Collins. As a researcher I love taking part in the few surveys I'm not excluded from, but I'm not really sure I approve of this use of research. I want to think of the cover as an integral part of the creation I own and interact with.

This is why I love some of the stuff Penguin are up to. Giving old words new life by repackaging classics in innovative ways that add to and alter the experience.

They have teamed classic fiction with world-class designers and architects to produce their Designer Classics (NB: only War & Peace designed by Fuel is still available to buy).

And, they have - taking a leaf from Beck's proverbial book - developed My Penguin a range of books with blank covers made of high quality art paper. White space. Waiting for the reader to explore their interpretations of the book.

Although it's a little limited at the moment, I love the idea of an online gallery. It would be really interesting to look at a big collection of visual interpretations of a book that I know & love. It reminded me of this collection of William Burroughs book covers. I Stumbled Upon it a while ago and keep going back to look again and again.

If you follow the links, there are similar collections of some other beat/cult (I never know the right terms) authors. Yet these don't captivate me in the same way. Perhaps that's because I am more familiar with Burrough's work? Or maybe with Burrough's books it's difficult to shy away from confronting the edgy content and this makes them more interesting?

Thanks to Jessica at The Book Bar for bringing the Penguin books and blog to my attention.