A Dog and Walk

 

This is a walk right by Fran's house, and I love it and wish it didn't require a car in order to access it. And a dog makes things so much better. In fact, Fran keeps drawing parallels between me and the dog, saying how very often our interest align.

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+ I have more books to read than I know what to do with, but rather than tackle the pile with my usual verve, I find myself incredibly despondent, picking up The Order of the Phoenix which I literally must have read a thousand times. This lack of reading shows too.  I'm less calm and ordered. When I read, I plumb this inner reservoir of, I dunno, Natalie-ness, and when I don't read, I feel tossed about. I often wonder how people survived before books as means of an introvert's haven.

+ I've been grazing through Thomas Wolfe's Look Homeward, Angel and I'm not enjoying it, which makes me feel like a traitor, like I don't belong to the South or any of its host of great literature, and I feel guilty, so maybe that's why I can't get past page 47. 

+ I was reading War and Peace.  I made it to about p. 200 and anyone in their right mind would consider that a book. But no. I'm not even a fifth of the way through. It's brilliant, and until now I never found length at all daunting. Until now.

+ I have discovered and love, love, love evernote. Click here or http://evernote.com/ or EVERNOTE. It's like, interactive word, so I can keep track of all my ruddy book notes, to-do lists, reading lists, work logs... So if you love lists and keeping track of stuff and need it on your computer, here you go.

Kindle Thoughts, Revisited

This past week, I've tried to read everything on my kindle. Sometimes through necessity. Sometimes through choice. Thoughts:

1. The designers of kindle were sensitive to people who loved books. The intentional 'white' pages and black ink, the ability to turn pages like a real book, demonstrate an awareness I had overlooked before.

2. It's nice having it 'all in one.' I don't have to lug several different books everywhere. It's convenient for traveling.

3. I'm not motivated as hard to finish reading something because I can't see the book's full length. I read what I want to, when I want to.  This could be good and bad.

4. Taking notes and highlighting is easier than expected. You have to give the kindle it's own time to do it, but it works well.

5. Finding pages is difficult and even finding specific notes or highlights. It takes me a while to refind my memorable passages.

I don't think it's fair on me to hate the kindle.  I don't cradle it to sleep at night, but I don't resent it. I still prefer books, probably always will, but am grateful for the things it provides, in the way it does.

Kindle Resolutions and Revulsions

Walt Whitman's Leaves of Grass

My parents mailed me my Kindle Touch, and things didn't exactly begin with a peachy-keen start when it took well over a month to ship and I had a glorious fine of 30 odd pounds to pay in customs fees. Cheers.

When I went to put books on I found, much to my disgust, that most of the classics are not free, but have a .77 pence charge in taxes.  Chaucer is not free. Thomas à Kempis is not free. St Augustine is not free. But Walt Whitman, he was free. So I downloaded Leaves of Grass to supplement my newly-bought book from Tills so I wouldn't have take lug the tome home with me. When I went to read it, I was appalled. As a lover of the line, a Creative Writing minor in poetry whose sole eye is for the value of the line, I was shocked. Which lines were continuous? Which ones were new? I played with the size and to my horror, found the line expanded and changed, as obviously it would with an increased or decreased font, but with absolutely no reference to which line was a continuation and which was a new line. The makers of the Kindle were obviously not poets.

Next I downloaded Henry James, Turn of the Screw. I began to read aloud to Fran. It was nice having the touch-word dictionary, but I found I had no idea how long the work was, where I was in relation to the end of the book, or how much I had left.  On the bottom a little figure with "8%" appeared, but it wasn't the same as page numbers or the thickness of a book in my hands. Then I had to turn off the highlighting function. It showed where other peopled had highlighted, which lines were most popular. Insert any academic snobbery appropriate [here].

When I downloaded .PDFs I became even more frustrated. Perhaps I just don't know how to work it well, but it definitely wasn't in book mode. I had to zoom in and zoom out, adjust and readjust.  It is not the painless experience I expected, and sadly, a computer is much more user-friendly. 

I have, much against my better judgement, decided to give it a month's trial.  I don't want to take any books home with me on my journey to the States, so I've compiled all that I can onto that 5 x 7 demon: The Bible; spiritual books, (GK Chesterton and Brother Lawrence); the book Fran and I are currently reading aloud to each other (The Turn of the Screw), books for personal pleasure, (Middlemarch.) And I will try to finish Walt Whitman on the kindle though it seems some sort of crime against humanity.  Or at least America. 

It comes down to me being a snob. A filthy, self-righteous book snob. I get frustrated when I buy real books that are not up to scratch. My poetry must be set by the line, my medieval texts not translated, my penguin paperbacks published between 1958-64, my favorites in hardback editions. I don't think I would ever buy a classic on my kindle that I did not already own a copy of. There is something so painless, immediate, esoteric about the "whispernet" delivery service that these books don't seem real or permanent. I don't give a toss about an academic essay or a popular Terry Pratchett novel on my kindle. Those I can read and delete with no compunction. But it feels wrong to download pieces of literature that have been treasured, translated, studied, memorized, in a matter of 20 seconds, to delete it once finished, like it's ephemeral and fleeting, and doesn't have the potential to a change a life, fell a country, spark a revolution, demonstrate selflessness, enact a love story, refine one's personal views, and encounter worlds beyond one's own. 

Perhaps it's just me and I'm kicking up a huge fuss about nothing. After all, the argument could go, it's still the author's words and that's all that matters, surely? We've evolved to transcend the printed text. I think it was Aristotle that made an argument about physical beauty leading to spiritual revelation.  The beauty of a woman (he says) can lead one to know and understand other beautiful things, slowly moving from physical beauty to more intangible concepts until you are suddenly encountering the divine. I find it easier to read and understand what the author says when it comes in gilded edges and a 1920s copyright.

The kindle finds its place in my home when it comes to old works that are often out of print. While not my first choice, I need it to read the books I study. It's a necessary evil, a Catch-22. But I can't help but think Amazon and its competitors have paved paradise and managed to set up virtual parking lot, allowing ease, immediacy, and popular demand to dictate and immensely reduce the first-love encounter with literature to a word on a screen which disappears and blinks every time I "turn a page."

Of Mice and Men

For a long time, I thought I hated Steinbeck. My introduction to him was the summer after I graduated from UNC where in the midst of physical therapy and yoga sessions for a back injury, I read. I picked up the Grapes of Wrath in the library and only read kept reading because I thought, it must get better after this. When I got to the ending, I was furious. This is it?! I kept screaming to myself. I resolved to hate Steinbeck for putting me through such a worthless experience.

Last week, Of Mice and Men came to town. Student tickets were cheap and the reviews excellent.
I read it in an afternoon, and I was numb when I reached the final page. Once the numbness wore off, I found it perfectly constructed, balanced. I had about 4 hours to process the book before I went to see the play, and the more I turned it over in the corners of my mind, the more I liked it. Everything is foreshadowed and nothing is lost.

But it took the play for me to see its brilliance. The description of George in the book made me view him as a person who didn't really like Lenny, who didn't love him, due to his "sharp features." The play dissolved that notion and I could see a genuine bond of friendship between them.

It's about dreaming, the power of dreams, and the utterly humane ability to believe in their existence though circumstances seem otherwise. Lenny's sad ability to harm the things he likes, his childish desire to feel soft things, shown with such poignancy as the novel progresses. George, the brains, but also the friend, who despite rough talk, deeply loves Lenny--as shown in the final scene.

It's a sad book. No happy endings are alotted the characters. But despite the foul position these characters land in, the overwhelming notion is the power of dreams, which may not be real, pitted against the power of friendship, the only real thing these men have, and the "austere and lonely office" that love calls them to.

Kinlde Thoughts

[source: amazon.com]

As a person who spends most of my day reading books, many people have asked me if I'd want a kindle. My first reaction is no, never. There is something about seeing something on a screen that is transient, that doesn't seem eternal or long lasting. It's sooo easy to cut, paste, delete, so fleeting. Besides, I like books. I like turning the pages. I like the beauty of old books. I like wheedling my way though the page count and get an unnatural amount of satisfaction seeing my bookmark slowly conquering the pages. I like the sensation of looking at a book, with it pages and all, and thinking, yeah I read that.

As medievalist, a lot of publications for the books I need are either 1. v. expensive, 2. out of print, 3. in a library I may or may not have access to, or 4. online. Obviously, the library is the nicer option, but the problem with old books is you can't check them out and bring them home. You have to look at them in the library. Fair enough. But it slightly constricts the day or at times, research. Online presents itself as the most convenient option. But man, do I hate looking at a screen. I get irritated by how much I'm required to have a presence in front of a screen. It seems to suck the life out of me. Reading tomes on the internet isn't exactly ideal either.

Then, there is the fact the not just old Manuscripts, but book subscriptions, and articles I need to read, appear only online. On the screen. It's like they've paved paradise and put a virtual parking lot. Lastly, I travel lots. To and from Durham. To the States and back. To conferences. It's always a struggle to know which books to bring. They take up so.much.room. and weigh a ton.

So what I'm trying to say is that I've bought a kindle. I know: I feel like a traitor. Does it help if I say I've bought it in hopes it will save my soul, rather than destroy it? It's the screen really. It's a matt, which means I can read it outside and won't glare. The absence of that emanating glare, will, I hope, enable me to read a screen without being sucked dry like vampire fodder.

But I keep thinking, what if I lose my love for real books? What if I only use my kindle? What if, the horror, I buy books there because it's cheaper? This scares me. I don't want that to happen. I want my house piled high with books I've read and loved, the sort of library you feel could have been owned by some old magician, or Merlin. So, all that to say I'm quite apprehensive. Keep me in your well wishes that I won't end up turning to the dark side of the force. I can already see myself breathing through a black mask from not being able to inhale the dust mites of old books, and, Ahhhh I can already hear the "Anakin, I am your father" speech coming. NOoooooooo!!!!!!

A Real Library

Central Reference Library, Edinburgh

I am pick-eee when it comes to where to work. I'm sure this is a very bad habit. I can work in coffee shops for an hour or two, but then I get distracted and bored and the coffee gets cold, and that is YUCK. The Edinburgh University Library is ok: it has some beautiful views over the meadows, but the low ceilings remind me of Davis Library (UNC) and sometimes I feel like I'm getting squashed. THAT and it is so competitive to find spacing. I hate that. Then there is the NLS. The National Library of Scotland is friggin amazing. It is a copyright library, so it has a copy of every book that was ever printed in Britain past... I dunno, 1900 or something. It has high ceilings, but no real windows with a view. Worse, there are all these really good academics, who actually know what they're doing, milling around and I feel so intimidated! BUT the NLS is good because 1. it has delicious soups and bread for pretty cheap and 2. I sometimes run into the lady I nanny for, and she is the salt of the earth and makes me feel better about, well, everything. Still, I don't frequent the NLS as often as I should.

But today I waltzed into the Central Library to get a book on Iceland, when they directed me to the reference Library. As I climbed two huge flights of steps, my hopes rose, and I thought, maybe it'll be beautiful. And ya'll, it was. I discreetly snapped the above photo. It has huge high ceilings, at least two stories. There's even a little Bannister and ladders for the really high up books-- sort of like Beauty and the Beast. The desk all face the same way (yay!!), it is spacious, and it wasn't crowded. It reminded me a lot of Wilson Library at UNC. I knew Edinburgh had to have a really beautiful library somewhere, and I'm cross with myself it's taken me so long to find it. Now just need the motivation to leave my teeny room with its unlimited cups of tea and mess for some real working. Am I the only one that think reading books should come with a beautiful room?

#3: Francis Chan, Crazy Love

# 3, Crazy Love, Francis Chan.

This book emphasized in contemporary language everything I learned in Bonhoeffer. Basically, to love God, really love God, he's not kidding when he says give stuff away to the poor. As an evangelical, he took everything straight from the Scriptures, and challenged the American church in its wealth and complacency. But it wasn't a book that destroyed the church. Our lives are to be characterized by obedience. I came away, not harassed, but with a strong sense of "I need to be doing something", and wishing that I had loads more resources free to give things away. When I grow up, I want two things. I want an old stone farm with lots of animals, and I want to make enough to give most of my proceeds away. But, I don't want to be delusioned with the 'I'll do it later' mentality, so it's got me to thinking what I can do now. And I'm just not sure.

From Antiquity: Our Great Literary Descendents

[click for source]

Great literary works pile up on our shelves, often with guilt, because we have not read them, or, if we have, have not known how to plumb their depths, especially books from antiquity. I firmly believe in order to read old books, one must first read what shapes them and comes before them. So if I were to compile a list, or a syllabus, of how to read the books on your shelves, here's how I would begin.

[NB: This unfortunately only pertains to Western literature and thought, and cannot apply to the pleasant depths of Asian, or even necessarily, all of European literature.]

1. The Bible. Or if you don't have time, The Children's Bible or the Books of Isaiah and Matthew. This gives you enough of Biblical symbolism and nature of God to proceed to other texts.

2. The Republic, Book VII. Plato. The section on "The Cave." While all of ancient philosophy has far reaching effects, this is accessible and not too intangible.

3. The Iliad. Homer. Not only a story of gods and men, buts its effect is eternal and defines the eipc. The complex ladder of human (and god) motivation, its cause and effect, perhaps reaches its height in the wrath of Achilles, as Homer explores the complexities and intracacies of human emotion.

4. The Odyssey. Homer. If you really can't stomach Homer and have to choose between these two, read The Odyssey. It's a story about getting home and has one of the best matched couples in all of (literary) history.

5. The Aeniad. Virgil. Picking up from where the Illiad leaves off, this story is about the founding of Rome. It also includes one of the most popular love affairs of all time with the appearance of Queen Dido.

6. Layamon or Wace's The Brut. Ok so we have all these classical stories. So what? That's exactly what Layamon and Wace sought to correct. This is Brutus leaving Rome to found Britain. It's recasting the Classical into a British setting.

7. The History of the Kings of Britain. Geoffrey of Monmouth. So many fun stories about those early kings. What was Britain before or after the Romans? Where did King Lear come from? And best, the origin of King Arthur!

8. Morte D'Arthur. Malory. The tales of Arthur are recast in nearly every generation, but where did the "original" tale come from? Both poignant and funny, this gives an idea of accessible Middle English.

9. [To be very thorough, I would suggest a few Lives of Saints, especially if you're interested in art history, as many saints stories are used as subjects. I'd recommend The Golden Legend by Jacobus de Voragine. In the same vein, read The Metamorphoses (Ovid) for Classical tales of gods and men, that wind themselves into art subjects the most. Not essential.]

10. The Divine Comedy. Dante. All three. Hell, Purgatory, and Paradise. Most teachers only teach the Inferno and leave their students in Hell. How contemptible! If wanting to abridge, read the beginning and ending cantos of each book.

11. St. George and the Dragon. Spenser. Especially if you're English, re-interpretations of this are everywhere! It combines the duties of a Christian saint with those of a Medieval knight, and never fails to bring tears to my eyes.

12. Finally, end with Milton's Paradise Lost. This is an imitation of the Old Epic recast into Christian, particularly, spiritual terms. Whoever would have though Satan could be a sympathetic character?


Not only will these twelve books compound upon and reference each other, but also provides a short history of Western thought. This also lays a foundation for reading modern texts. T.S. Eliot's Wasteland suddenly makes (more) sense, as does Shaw's Pygmalion. One understands where Shakespeare gets his King Lear and Tennyson the subject for his Idylls. Best of all, you have filled nearly all the essential gaps, leaving literature from the entire Western world, entirely open at your disposal, to read with confidence in whatever order you please.

Spiritual Books: #7

One of my New Year's Resolutions was to read a set of Christian books: one for each month. This is the first in that series.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, The Cost of Discipleship

For someone trying to ease their way back into reading Christian tenements, this was not the book to choose first. It happened by accident. I was in the airport and wanted to start on these Christian books on this 8-hour flight, so I dug into my overhead bag and pulled out Bonhoeffer. I was disappointed. I wanted something easy, like Francis Chan. But Bonhoeffer was interesting. He was a German in WWII. He had the opportunity to escape, he was even in Britain, safe, but voluntarily decided to return, because he felt he could in no way help reconstruct the church in Germany unless he suffered with it. Guards shot him two days before the Allies freed the camp.

Bonhoeffer knows what he's talking about. He writes about what it means to be a disciple of Jesus, and it is no easy line. He doesn't smudge it to make it easier for us to swallow or digest. Holding nothing back, he describes the magnitude of sacrifice expected from Christians. And its exhausting. I had an extremely difficult time concentrating because I kept thinking, but I'm just not good enough to do all this. Extenuating human inadequacy, the perfection of God, and the high standard expected of Christians, left me despairing. That's exactly what Bonhoeffer intended us to feel. But Bonhoeffer wanted us to despair, to shout in anger and frustration at our inability: he wanted us to leave all that behind and throw ourselves wholly on the mercy of God and through his good grace in us, accomplish anything.

The Cost of Discipleship is hard. I wouldn't read it again in a hurry. I can't say it nourished my soul and made me love God more. But it did have its moments. My favorite part was the ending chapter on being made in the image of God: that the more we strive, the more we worsen things, but God in his mercy "does not neglect his lost creatures," and "if we surrender ourselves utterly unto him, we cannot help bearing his image ourselves."

Bad on Books

I have a bad habit of buying books that I think either look nice, or I think I ought to read them. In my library back home, the number is stupidly ridiculous and the idea of conquering them sends my knees weak. Since my move to Edinburgh, I have acquired an a small pile of books I have either borrowed or now own and am determined to read them before the year is out. I can count now at least 15 books: 15 collected in a space of less than 10 months! Pathetic. Been slowly making headway.

Sometimes I find the list of things I have to do crippling as it seems like so much. In the last month, I've found reading a book not at all to do with my dissertation helpful. It eases the cogs strung tight thinking about Medieval French Literature, and motivates me to keep working. I've found that when I finish a book, I'll momentarily pat myself on the back, but then think, alright, what next? Somehow this desire helps to tackle my dissertation.