Reading/listening/watching

Reading: devoured Nicola Humble's book on The feminine middlebrow novel over the weekend.

Listening: I lasted about ten minutes of Harrison Birtwhistle's Punch and Judy on Radio 3 on Saturday night. So not much at the moment.

Watching: the Sex and the city movie. Have you ever bought a six-pack of crappy chocolate mousses from the supermarket and eaten them one after the other?

Revision books

I can't be bothered to do reviews, but these are the books I read as part of my revision:

The Weimar republic - Eberhard Kolb [23]
Weimar and the rise of Hitler - A.J. Nicholls [24]
The Weimar republic - J.W. Hiden [25]
Balzac - Wendy Mercer [26]
Zola: Germinal - Colin Smethurst [27]
La peau de chagrin - Alain Schaffner [28]
Germinal - Colette Becker [29]

Too many books

Someone pointed me towards this Wall Street Journal article about owning books. It's a subject I've been thinking about recently, especially as we are moving house soon: I estimate I've got about five or six hundred books to move in my current flat, and another couple of hundred back at my parents' place. It's a source of mild friction between myself and my cohabitant: he doesn't believe in owning books, but gets them from the library. I also use the library (I am a member of eight libraries, at least five of which I don't owe massive fines to) but I like to own books. I think he feels mildly oppressed by the sheer number of books I own, and they do tend to get everywhere.

I'm actually much less of a book hoarder and compulsive book buyer than I used to be: I almost never buy new books these days, but I still find it difficult to pass a second hand bookshop without acquiring one or two. I had a massive clearout a couple of years ago when I got rid of around three hundred books, discarding the ones that I was never likely to read again, the ones which would be freely available in the library if I did want to read them again and the duplicate copies. Since then I try to limit my library to books I definitely do want to read or reread, and try and keep books that are freely available in the library to a minimum. I like this passage from Luc Sante's article:

It occurred to me that I had little need for most of the shrubbery surrounding the works of major authors: the letters (with one or two significant exceptions), the critical approaches (unless they are worth reading on their own terms), and any biography over 500 pages long (except maybe those by Richard Ellmann and Leon Edel). I also had no need for books with funny titles, books acquired only because everybody else was reading them, books with no value except as objects, and books that inspired a vague sense of dread whenever they caught my eye -- possible cornerstones of culture that nevertheless only solitary confinement would ever compel me to read.

I still have a lot of books. I like having them, I like being around them, I like the fact that I can go to the shelf and look up a half-remembered passage whenever I want to. It sometimes seems to me, though, that owning books is not recognised as the materialist act it actually is. Because having a library is seen as a cultural, educated thing to have, it's as though it's somehow morally superior to owning a lot of clothes, say. In some ways I'd like to be more like my partner, with his half dozen books and his library card.

Things I've noticed

Favourite blog of the week: Shapely Prose, a great blog about fat acceptance.

Wonderful article in the New York Times about shared parenting. OK, the people they talk to are all quite affluent middle-class parents, and therefore have many more options to take fewer hours and less pay, but it's a really positive interesting article.

This made me laugh.

And the Guardian review of Leonard Cohen's concert made me look forward to seeing him even more than I already am. Roll on July 18th...

Excuses excuses

Oh well, so much for updating 'tomorrow'. Work has been hellish this week and I've been in a permanent state of stress. I will update... some time.

Normal service will shortly be resumed

In fact, I have grand plans to blog more frequently. But I've been doing my final exams and turned myself into a giant neurotic mess so I haven't posted anything for a while. So anyway! Tomorrow I will start catching up posting all the books I have read in the last couple of months.

Reading/listening/watching

Reading: Having sped through Thérèse Raquin (post soon), I've just started L'assommoir.

Listening: Tosca tonight!

Watching: went to see Jeremy Hardy doing stand-up in Stratford on Saturday as my birthday treat with my family. Also, The good soul of Szechuan on Friday at the Young Vic, which was well... ok.

Gospel truth

I came across an excellent Penguin paperback copy of the Gospels in a charity shop, so I've been reading them. Gosh, they're bizarre. Very episodic and unliterary, and nothing seems to follow anything else with any kind of logic. And some of the parables are just strange and incomprehensible. I like the fact that they are four retellings of the same story, and in some bits the story is exactly the same and other bits the emphasis is completely different. I also like this bit from the end of Matthew 28, which my brother says shows that Jesus didn't really rise again.

11 Now when they were going, behold, some of the watch came into the city, and shewed unto the chief priests all the things that were done.
12 And when they were assembled with the elders, and had taken counsel, they gave large money unto the soldiers,
13 Saying, Say ye, His disciples came by night, and stole him away while we slept.
14 And if this come to the governor's ears, we will persuade him, and secure you.
15 So they took the money, and did as they were taught: and this saying is commonly reported among the Jews until this day. [22]

Be careful what you wish for

Finally finished Balzac's La peau de chagrin, which was an odd little book. I was expecting to find Balzac's style much tougher going that I actually did: clause upon clause, and constantly breaking off to offer a little aphorism here and there, but I actually relaxed into it pretty quickly. It's the story of Raphael who, when about to commit suicide, comes across a mysterious little antique shop where he buys a piece of ass's skin which grants wishes. Every time he wishes for something, the skin gets smaller until it disappears and he dies. And on the way he meets an evil temptress, and then a sweet, innocent young girl who he falls in love with. So it's very fairytale-like, but at the same time Balzac describes absolutely everything in detail: rooms, clothes, street scenes. This makes it very uncanny, the contrast between the nineteenth century Paris and the supernatural event which take place. Some of it I didn't understand and will have to go back to: particularly the banquet scene, where Raphael and his friends discuss politics and philosophy in a sort of mad drunken discourse. [21]

Phil's review of it is here.

Reading/listening/watching

Reading: Lothar Kettenacker's Germany since 1945 and Eberhard Kolb's The Weimar republic. Revision time is upon me...

Listening: Birthday presents - the latest Kris Kristofferson album and Ella Fitzgerald's Cole Porter songbook.

Watching: series 3 of the Wire! Yay. The first episode was already so funny and good. And looking forward to The good person of Szechuan at the Young Vic on Friday - my birthday treat.