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).