Every now and then, I discover something new about London. I have lived here about 5 years now, and it still surprises me every now and then. This weekend I went to Greenwich for the first time. I had been to the dome when it opened, but never really knew there was much more to the area. Well, how silly I was. Greenwich is beautiful, and full of market stalls selling everything from second hand books, to handmade jewelry to Bonsai trees. The streets meander in a refreshing tangle of pavement, and then, bang, you're in a beautiful big green park, with a hillside stretching up in front of you, crowned by the Royal Observatory. The lovely neoclassical buildings of the Naval museum draw straight, lines on the green landscape at the foot of the hill and certainly add to the grandeur of the place.
Bean and I enjoyed a picnic in the park, followed by a wander around the arts & crafts market, topping it off watching sunset from the top of the hill. A glorious day, the long almost-autumn shadows drawn on the green grass made for some lovely photos, but more on that tomorrow!
Monday 22 September 2008
Friday 19 September 2008
A Lovely Read
A Lovely Sunny Friday today in London, always makes it slightly more difficult to sit at a desk from 9-5 though. To help the afternoon slip by I am listening to Radio 4's Book at Bedtime. The featured book is Dorothy Whipple's Someone at a Distance. I read the book a week or so ago and thoroughly enjoyed Whipple's wit, and her concise writing perfectly balanced with small and beautiful details that slowly and subtly build the characters and the setting. It is a lovely edition published by Persephone, and I truly enjoyed the typeface, the good quality paper, and the beautiful cover.
The audio adaptation is far from un-enjoyable, but it lacks the beauty of the words on the page, and even more significantly, it doesn't grasp my attention in the same way as a book. Reading takes a degree of concentration, you must sit in a position so that you can hold the book, must direct your gaze towards the page, and in doing so outside distractions fall away, but when listening too many other things can be accomplished, and this leads the reader astray from the beauty of the words, and sometimes even from the plot. In addition there is the abridgement, that necessarily removes phrases and nuances that I feel are a large part of the strength of Whipple's book, of any good book.
I don't mean to belittle the medium, it brings books in small manageable packages to busy people daily, and a good book- abridged and on audio or not, is a wonderful thing. Rather I realise just how precious the written word can be, and how much beauty there can be in a new book, an old well-read and slightly crumpled book, a paperback, a hardback, a long-awaited book, and all those ones that crop up seemingly out of nowhere - often the best of all.
The audio adaptation is far from un-enjoyable, but it lacks the beauty of the words on the page, and even more significantly, it doesn't grasp my attention in the same way as a book. Reading takes a degree of concentration, you must sit in a position so that you can hold the book, must direct your gaze towards the page, and in doing so outside distractions fall away, but when listening too many other things can be accomplished, and this leads the reader astray from the beauty of the words, and sometimes even from the plot. In addition there is the abridgement, that necessarily removes phrases and nuances that I feel are a large part of the strength of Whipple's book, of any good book.
I don't mean to belittle the medium, it brings books in small manageable packages to busy people daily, and a good book- abridged and on audio or not, is a wonderful thing. Rather I realise just how precious the written word can be, and how much beauty there can be in a new book, an old well-read and slightly crumpled book, a paperback, a hardback, a long-awaited book, and all those ones that crop up seemingly out of nowhere - often the best of all.
Thursday 18 September 2008
Breathing Underwater
I am reading Julie Orringer's How to Breathe Underwater at the moment, and loving it! The book is a collection of short stories, a genre I tend to distance myself from, only because I like the neat package of a novel contained within the covers. I have often feared a disparate collection of stories, or, even worse, a book of stories so similar as to be repetitions of their counterparts.
Orringer banished my (apparently unfounded) fears by the end of the second story. The stories do have multiple common themes, water being the obvious one, but also youth, loss, and illness. That said, it is not a dark book, but more a compulsive and addictive set of stories, set in various parts of the US. It is a quick read, with vivid imagery and honest narrators, and I will be saddened later today when I finish the last story. I may even have to turn right back to page one and start again!
Orringer banished my (apparently unfounded) fears by the end of the second story. The stories do have multiple common themes, water being the obvious one, but also youth, loss, and illness. That said, it is not a dark book, but more a compulsive and addictive set of stories, set in various parts of the US. It is a quick read, with vivid imagery and honest narrators, and I will be saddened later today when I finish the last story. I may even have to turn right back to page one and start again!
Wednesday 17 September 2008
Beautiful Things
This post is an attempt to slow down reading. Too many people (myself included) read so quickly, especially on the Internet. This is not a blog to be browsed but to be actively participated in. Below are a collection of simple images for you to elaborate on in your own minds. Enjoy!
The first lick of paint on a clean white canvas
The last piece of birthday cake
Shiny new acorns
Thick green asparagus spears
A butter yellow full moon glowing through a thin veil of cloud
Smoke curling above a freshly lit stick on incense
Stacks of unread books, just waiting to be opened
Cows munching on fresh green grass
Galloping horses
The first lick of paint on a clean white canvas
The last piece of birthday cake
Shiny new acorns
Thick green asparagus spears
A butter yellow full moon glowing through a thin veil of cloud
Smoke curling above a freshly lit stick on incense
Stacks of unread books, just waiting to be opened
Cows munching on fresh green grass
Galloping horses
Monday 15 September 2008
Lovely London weekend
Lovely London weekends tend to involve bacon sandwiches for breakfast, with fresh fruit and mint tea, followed by leisurely walks down Northcote road, the place for fresh produce, organic butchers, fishmongers, clothing stalls, aromatherapy oils and croissants. Then bumpy bus rides, which pass as i turn the pages of my book. Here they diverge, into the countryside, the flower markets, food markets, or parks. This weekend it was the Tate Modern, one of my favourite weekend activities that I hadn't taken advantage of for far too long. The Southbank of the Thames was buzzing with stalls selling knick knacks, and even free Tango lessons. Men were chopping up fresh coconuts as a cooling drink and a snack all in one, (not great for a breezy September day, but the sun was shining).
Art museums slow my mind down, it is a form of meditation I suppose and Cy Twombly's Post-Abstract Impressionism canvases, mammoth in size and in emotion, did not disappoint. There is a magic in the London of the weekends, a feeling that people are doing things because they want to not because they have to, an almost holidaying spirit. The shining sun definitely helped, and they'll be no complaints from me if an Indian Summer makes a late appearance.
Art museums slow my mind down, it is a form of meditation I suppose and Cy Twombly's Post-Abstract Impressionism canvases, mammoth in size and in emotion, did not disappoint. There is a magic in the London of the weekends, a feeling that people are doing things because they want to not because they have to, an almost holidaying spirit. The shining sun definitely helped, and they'll be no complaints from me if an Indian Summer makes a late appearance.
Tuesday 9 September 2008
September
A drizzly September day today, cool, but not cold. I took the train in to work, and despite the bumpy ride, there is a certain charm to the double-decker bus. Perhaps because I grew up in the U.S. they still hold a degree of wonder for me. When they whip around the tight roundabouts of London, I am often slightly shocked they don't just topple over.
The winding down of the mild English summer feels a bit of a relief. Jumpers and thick socks, cozy darkening evenings, watching raindrops falling onto puddles, forming rings and spreading a little before the next drop falls.
Bring on the roasted vegetables, hearty soups, hot chocolates topped with thick whipped cream, the scarves, gloves, red noses and falling leaves.
The winding down of the mild English summer feels a bit of a relief. Jumpers and thick socks, cozy darkening evenings, watching raindrops falling onto puddles, forming rings and spreading a little before the next drop falls.
Bring on the roasted vegetables, hearty soups, hot chocolates topped with thick whipped cream, the scarves, gloves, red noses and falling leaves.
Monday 8 September 2008
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