It snowed today.
It will melt tomorrow.
If any of us made a list of the activities we can’t do at present in the order we miss them, what would the list look like?
I belong to a book group and on my list that would be very near the top – probably in second place behind meeting friends for coffee. I think anyone who belongs to a book group would have a similar pattern on their list.
Several of them are reading winners of the society’s prizes so they’ll be discussing up to date, good books.
One thing we all seem to be getting good at, is accepting alternatives to the things we normally do.
All over the world events are cancelled. People who worked hard to put together a programme see it torn to nothing by a creature that is so small it’s invisible.
Those of us who were looking forward to a dose of culture, in my case particularly literature, must give up for this year.
Online is wonderful, and I congratulate and thank anyone who has created an online festival. But it’s not a substitute for the buzz of a real poetry reading, the joy of anticipating a panel of famous writers in the flesh, the pleasure of going through a hard-copy programme and ticking off the events to see.
However, there’s another side to this. So many festivals cancelled! Yes, but let us remember that there were ‘so many’ to cancel. So many organisers, who are often volunteers, so many eager audiences.
In years past and to come we live in a time of celebrating the arts and sciences like never before in history.
The prize is worth a good deal in terms of money, but winning is probably more important to the writers than the swelling of the bank account.
Reading about success is so heartwarming; good luck to all of them.
Today is World Poetry Day and I suspect there is a lot of disappointment around at the cancellation of readings, workshops etc.
Fortunately poetry is something that can be enjoyed as much alone as in social gatherings. Reading a favourite poet, or perhaps a newly bought book, is almost social: reader and poet together.
I think the current crisis will leave several kinds of mark on history, and one of those will be poems.
This is my first post of the new year/new decade. Where better to go for newness than new poetry books.
The approach of spring revived my interest in shopping so I treated myself to this T S Eliot collection.
Rendang by Will Harris is a Poetry Book Society choice.
The Eliot is what I expected it to be: exciting, beautiful, varied. It was his work that helped me into reading modern poetry.
I haven’t had time to study Rendang, but it has a lot of interesting stuff in it.
Now all I need is time to sit and absorb the beauty and depth of these two fabulous poets.
I was reading The Librarian by Salley Vickers when I came across the above word. New-to-me-words tend to jump off the page at me, waving their letters and demanding I look them up in dictionaries, thesauruses and/or websites.
Although I could guess the meaning, I followed the demand and found out, as expected, that the literal meaning is ‘to put on an island’ and the metaphorical is ‘to isolate’. I think it’s definitely more attractive than common or garden ‘isolated’.
Pronunciation was much more interesting; all possibles could be found somewhere on the web. I guess that either:
there are really many ways of saying the word
different dialects pronounce it differently (very differently)
the word occurs in other languages
a lot of people pronounce it wrong.
The one I prefer is to say ‘isle’ in the usual way and add the ‘en’ to it, keeping the stress on the long i.
You’ll have to read the book to see the context the author uses it. I can recommend it as an easy, pleasant read with an unusual ending.
More or less by chance I’ve discovered that there are associations of independent libraries in the UK and elsewhere. A new-to-me discovery that I find somehow joyful: bringing together independence and libraries to help each other.
And on 25th to 27th of September this year the UK and American groups are to have a conference.
The formal agenda looks more or less as one might expect, but I would love to listen to the between-formal chat. Do the delegates discuss the latest books or bemoan the cost of quality shelving? Perhaps they share snippets of history and founders’ wisdom. Or maybe they read.
The good weather we’ve had lately means my garden is still rich with flowers and foliage, most of them self-seeded – many are pretty even if they are weeds.
Last year’s favourite weeds were sunflowers; we had several of them of different sizes and styles.
This year they went somewhere else and I now have different favourites. One is a giant clover with a pale mauve flower and decorative leaves.
Another is a lush green thingy growing like the clappers. I’m hoping it’ll flower so I can see what it is.
I had a browse on the web to see if there are any poems about weeds.
There are a lot, many of them drawing rather obvious lessons and few extolling the beauty of these adventurous plants.
However, I really like this simple little one by a poet called Boruch.