All Change !!

After a bit of a break I am now whizzing through my bookcases, and reading books if I'm honest I forgot I own. I'm undecided if this a worrying sign of owning to many books, and they are indeed breeding, or that I am , as I've always suspected a bit of a hoarder. ...
I have after a bit of debate, decided to switch to wordpress for further blog type rants. I will attempt to copy over my old posts from this blog, but now it's summer I can read all I like, and post all I like :)
The new blog address is : http://thewordsarechasingme.wordpress.com/
Hope to see you there soon.

Kindles.

Firstly, I will apologise for not having more to say for myself lately. With less than a month to go, until my tormentor of a dissertation flies wings and finds someone else to annoy, time to read anything other than academic texts has been somewhat lacking.
This conundrum did however ignite a thought for a post. Kindle. They appear to be the Marmite of the reading world. I personally refuse to own one. I like books. I like the smell of them, feel of them, and that satisfying feeling of breaking the spine on a new book. I can see the appeal of them, being able to carry around with you multiple books, without needing spinal surgery is a definite plus point, but in my mind you loose something of the book by reading it on a kindle. I have attempted to read The Hare with the Amber Eye's on a kindle, that I spirited away for the afternoon, and although I could sit and read it, I got bored. I rarely get bored reading. I found the buttons a distraction, after a while the lay out of the page became offensive.
 I remember the debates that ensued amongst some of my friends when Ipod's first graced our ears. Up until then it was either a portable CD player, or the now long missed mix tape. The point to me seems the same. Can you really hope to store so much on something and still be able to know what is on there. I rarely have much idea of what is on my Ipod or my bookcases for that matter. This has often lead to entire afternoons somehow 'being stolen' in the quest of looking for a particular book, or cd. Ironically, I know people who own kindles, who will now read books they had previously shyed away from in print. Does reading it on a kindle somehow make it an easier read?
I doubt I will be buying one anytime soon. I prefer holding a book, picking it up, and putting it back down again. Does this suggest I am a luddite ? What are you thoughts on e-reader?

The Books that keep calling to you.

My last post was ranting on about the books that despite my best intentions still seem to remain a total anathema to me. In the interests of representing both sides of the argument, these are the books that I have read multiple times, and I dare say I'll read a few more times for good measure. 
Sophie's World, by Jostein Gaarder, was my introduction to philosophy as a teenager. It is safe to say I have read this book on average about once a year since. Intertexual references made in this book, I have subsequently read some of the most amazing French Existential novels, such as Nausea and The Outsider. So what is it about Sophie's World, that keeps me re-reading it ? As a teenager it was about the philosophy, and how it lead me to question the world I was living in. (more than once the book mysteriously vanished when my incessant questioning got a bit to much for my Mother) Re-reading it as an adult, although now I can see how the philosophy links together, it still creates more questions, and more often than not sends me off to read the philosophy that it is based on. I remember reading in the preface to the novel, that Gaarder had written it for his students, to help them understand the history of Philosophy. As much as I love my copy of Bertrand Russell's History of Western Philosophy, I have to admit, I will always look in Sophie's World first.  
Perfume: The Story of a Murder, by Patrick Suskind, is a book I fell in love with at the first page. The novel, comfortably sits in the realms of Magical Realism, and has hints of the absurd to it. The chilling final lines of the gang being 'uncommonly proud. For the first time they had done something out of Love', are like the rest of the novel beautifully constructed, yet darkly chilling. I won't detail the plot, as it is a novel that has to be read to fully understand the power of it. Unsurprisingly I loathe the film of it. 
The final is a set of short stories. The Bloody Chamber, by Angela Carter. The collection of stories, are like Perfume, fairy-tale like in their composition. Loosely based upon the fairy-tales of Perrault, they take traditional tales, such as that of Bluebeard, and slightly twist them, usually with a feminist meaning. In the title tale of The Bloody Chamber, it is the mother that rescues the daughter from the cad Bluebeard. She then swiftly dispatches him with a gunshot. My favorite story of the collection is easily The Erl-King. The levels of narrative in the story, and how the story speaks is curious to say the least. It also gives elements of nature a voice, which is something I always find intriguing to say the least, it also speaks to my own interest in Eco-Criticism. 

New Year and the books that defeated you

I have a section in my bookcase, which I refer to as ‘The Monsters’.  These are the novels that for one reason or another have managed to totally defeat me. I often wonder what your Monster list says about you. There are always books that will defeat you, for one reason or another, I have three actual monsters that despite repeated attempts, have still managed to elude me in one way or another.

 In this pile of demons, is predictably Joyce’s Ulysses, my best foray with that particular book was page 213. The lack of punctuation makes it exhausting to read, to say the least. I cannot claim any kind of hatred or dislike of the book, quite the opposite in fact, which makes the total bamboozlement that little more annoying. The fact that the action takes place over one day, and reveals so much of the inner workings of the characters minds, is a truly innovative concept for its time. I have managed to read other Joyce novels with little issue, even the notorious Finnegan’s Wake, which although a tad odd, is still an interesting read.

Next on this hit list is Wuthering Heights. I have yet to figure out what it is about the book that looses me, but usually by page 50, I’m ready to wonder out onto the moors and start screaming for Cathy. To say I get confused by it is somewhat of an understatement. Yet again like Joyce, I have happily read other Bronte novels and enjoyed them. Just Wuthering Heights eludes me. The actual basis of the novel is one that I find curious, and I have managed to sit through adaptations of it, which in this case feels like somewhat of a cop out.

The final bête noir is War and Peace by Tolstoy. The names alone are hellish to follow. It also seems far too much like an A Level History class for my liking. After two years I still could not differentiate between Tsar Nicholas I or II, or Alexander I, I could only ever remember the last Tsar, as the Bolsheviks decided they didn’t like him so much.  Anna Karenina is easily one of my favourite novels, yet this particular masterpiece, is a total mystery to me.

So in the spirit of New Year’s resolutions, I have decided to do battle with these beasts one more time and attempt to read them cover to cover. I’m well aware that all three of my monsters are classics, and there are probably less highbrow books out there that would equally defeat me, but these three have sat and tormented me for more than a few years from their lofty position on the top shelf (out of sight, out of mind, does not work at all in this case). 

Books as Presents.

I am always happy to receive books as presents. I think it's a thoughtful present to get someone.
For the last few years, I have exchanged books with one of my friends at Christmas and on Birthdays, now at times we have specifically asked the other for a book, but mostly we have left it to the other to gauge their reading interests. Is this playing with fire? I have a somewhat eclectic reading taste to say the least, and will as the name of my blog suggests read most things. Obviously the lines to get drawn at times, a certain well known Vampire Quartet being one example.
This Christmas was no exception to the randomness. I was given a copy of Haruki Murakami's new book IQ84 , and a book about the Women who were married to the Lake Poets. Could you get to books more further apart? (Expect both books to appear in a blog post at some point.)
I have also been delving into the world of Charles Dickens, as he seems to be just about everywhere you look at the moment, and reading some of his Christmas stories. A particular favourite has been, The Goblins that Stole the Sexton. This short story predates  A Christmas Carol, and again the central protagonist is shown the error of his ways through otherworldly beings. In some ways having discovered this story I prefer it, but it also gives you an insight into how Dicken's developed his stories. This lead me onto The Mystery of Edwin Drood, that is Dickens unfinished novel. Having recently studied this at University, it is fairly fresh in my mind. The edition that I used had Dickens notes in the back, for the unwritten chapters. The BBC, have decided to film Edwin Drood, and offer an ending to it. (I hope they use the notes and stick to the plot...) I wondered if it would detract from the story to have an ending to it. Is the ending we fill in, a better one? What is the mystery? Is Edwin murdered? If so, by who? I'm not sure what ending I'd want to see. Any ideas?

Christmas in Novels

 The festive season is now well and truly here ! Not least as I finish University tomorrow for Christmas holidays.  I was talking to a friend over lunch today about being beyond excited about being able to read what I want to read, and take a bit of time doing so, before the new term begins. This lead us on to the subject of  Christmas in novels.

The opening lines of Little Women ( Louisa M Alcott 1868) ' "Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug." are arguably one of the most famous references to it, and managed to withstand the damage a more recent film did to the novel ( yes I know , adaptations again ), but also paints a vivid picture of the American Family during the Civil War. Alcott herself is a fascinating figure, not least because of her affiliations with the American Bloomsbury Group. A group of authors living in a seeming Utopian society ? What's not to like ? Of course there was drama, and to a degree the Little Women series of books has been speculatively called a semi-autobiography. I'm not sure how convinced I am by this argument. I'll save the theoretical arguments about this for another post.

Of course if I'm going to talk about Christmas in Novels, A Christmas Carol ( Charles Dickens, 1843) needs to be, in the very least acknowledged. Dickens, ever the showman, even goes as far at to whimsically rename chapters, staves. Yet the story of the repentant Scrooge, seems to be the one that stays with us. Even the Muppets had their own take on this. Is it the idea of redemption ? Or is it the idea of peace at Christmas. The fact that 'Scrooge' managed to find it's way into everyday vernacular is testament to the popularity of the novel. 

And for a more off the wall, but in my opinion just a valid , Christmas tale ..... Hogfather ( Terry Pratchett , 1997). Hogfather could be Santa Claus' aggrieved brother ? Hogfather is 'removed' shall we say, as he does not fit in with the auditors view of how Discworld should be (Not at all dissimilar to Plato banishing the Poets from the Republic? No? Just me then) Death ends up standing in for Hogfather, whilst Susan battles the fiendish Mr Teatime to rescue Hogfather from a pile of children's teeth. 

Christmas seems to creep into Literature in many guises. These are the most obvious I could think to for now. I do, however, like the Victorian imagining of Christmas, and although gifts were exchanged , it was a lot less commercial than it has become. The emphasis was on the family, and people coming together, maybe this accounts for the popularity that A Christmas Carol still enjoys?

Adaptations

I'll get this out there now . I generally hate adaptations of novels, yet I still invariably find myself watching them, and getting more and more annoyed as the film goes on. Why do I insist on doing this ? I have a sort of twisted faith that it may get better as it goes along - that rarely happens, or in some random and crazy way the director, producer and scriptwriters actually show 'so yeah, we um sort of maybe read the book, once, when I was 12 or something, abut this is what I thought it should be like' Those are the films whilst infuriating, somehow keep my mind ticking over for days and days.
Having recently rewatched Sally Potters 1992 film of Orlando,it again struck how much of a curious interpretation of events it was, compared to the novel. I liked the film, don't get me wrong, Tilda Swinton as Orlando has to be one of the most inspired castings, (I'm less convinced by Billy Zane , slimly little critter) who else could pull off the androgynous Orlando so well ?  But the film plays with the narrative and changes things.Whist I'm on my rant can someone please explain to me what that singing cherub is at the end ? It  baffles to say the least, and it messes with the ending, of 'The Oak Tree' it ceases to be the end of the circle. Does this make it a better story ? Or does it make it a whole new one ?