Michelle of Peony Moon has a great series running just now: writers with their favourite books of 2009.
Part 5 includes my choices, but not my whys... more on this rumination later. As you can guess, I was hard pushed to actually nail three, never mind six - there are so many great poetry books out there.
If you were stuck for a Christmas present for someone who likes poetry, and wanted to get them something out of the usual for Christmas, you could do a lot worse than browse these lists and google the results. It just shows you there's some mighty fine poetry out there...
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Another five writers
I had been going on along grand thinking about 25 writers, until that big job I'm doing got in the way. Now that I've got a spare Sunday morning (what are they..?), I'll turn back to thinking about the books and writers of my early twenties.
I met one boyfriend through books. At the time, I was doing a Draughting course - it's what people did in the late 80s in Ireland, when there were no job opportunities (sound familiar?). Anyway, once we had most of the course done, you either sat there doodling on the great white sheets clipped to your green swivel-desk, or you positioned your desk so that you could read, undetected. I did the first and then the second, and the boyfriend, or at least, boyfriend-to-be supplied all the books, from his extensive collection. I read most of his books, and then I went out with him ;)
Behind that desk I began to discover fantasy and science-fiction, like Julian May's The Many Coloured Land, 'the saga of the exiles,' and all the other books in this series.
Behind this desk, I also read Isaac Asimov's I Robot, Robots and Empire, The Naked Sun... oh dear, I am a bit of a serial reader. What else, oh yes, Suldrun's Garden, and The Green Pearl and Madouc, by Jack Vance - the Lyonesse series.
I also remember spending a very cold winter in my bed-sit reading Brian Aldiss' Helliconia saga. It seemed to match the weather very well. This is a tough read: both my hub and eldest son have given up reading them once they got to the second book; the mind-numbing cold portrayed in the trilogy is often cited as the reason - realistic writing, eh?
Lastly, from this period of my life, I'd have to pick Guy Gavriel Kay's Fionavar Tapestry trilogy as an must-read. I've even re-purchased and re-read this one lately and it's still one of his best offerings, although I have a special place in my heart for A Song for Arbonne and Tigana. The Fionavar Tapestry was his first venture into writing, and someone once told me that he worked under Christopher Tolkien, researching the famous J.R.R's writing. Having said that, I wasn't as impressed by Kay's last book, Ysabel, which saw him revisit some of the characters from the Fionavar tapestry... maybe it's because I'm not the person I used to be.
So, I have only ten writers/books left to mention - what will they be?
I met one boyfriend through books. At the time, I was doing a Draughting course - it's what people did in the late 80s in Ireland, when there were no job opportunities (sound familiar?). Anyway, once we had most of the course done, you either sat there doodling on the great white sheets clipped to your green swivel-desk, or you positioned your desk so that you could read, undetected. I did the first and then the second, and the boyfriend, or at least, boyfriend-to-be supplied all the books, from his extensive collection. I read most of his books, and then I went out with him ;)
Behind that desk I began to discover fantasy and science-fiction, like Julian May's The Many Coloured Land, 'the saga of the exiles,' and all the other books in this series.
Behind this desk, I also read Isaac Asimov's I Robot, Robots and Empire, The Naked Sun... oh dear, I am a bit of a serial reader. What else, oh yes, Suldrun's Garden, and The Green Pearl and Madouc, by Jack Vance - the Lyonesse series.
I also remember spending a very cold winter in my bed-sit reading Brian Aldiss' Helliconia saga. It seemed to match the weather very well. This is a tough read: both my hub and eldest son have given up reading them once they got to the second book; the mind-numbing cold portrayed in the trilogy is often cited as the reason - realistic writing, eh?
Lastly, from this period of my life, I'd have to pick Guy Gavriel Kay's Fionavar Tapestry trilogy as an must-read. I've even re-purchased and re-read this one lately and it's still one of his best offerings, although I have a special place in my heart for A Song for Arbonne and Tigana. The Fionavar Tapestry was his first venture into writing, and someone once told me that he worked under Christopher Tolkien, researching the famous J.R.R's writing. Having said that, I wasn't as impressed by Kay's last book, Ysabel, which saw him revisit some of the characters from the Fionavar tapestry... maybe it's because I'm not the person I used to be.
So, I have only ten writers/books left to mention - what will they be?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
25 Writers & their Influences
This is going to have to be one of those posts that gets carried across a couple of days, because I'm hoping to have a good look into some of the early stuff that I liked, which means less than the usual cursory posting.
I don't remember very much of the things I read in primary school. I was a very early reader and I munched my way through the Ladybird books, reading about the adventures of Peter and Jane through a good few of them before I actually started school. But I don't know who the writer would have been for them, so this probably doesn't count.
Later on, my dad joined the Children's Book Club, London (1976?)on my behalf. I can still remember, what I am convinced is the first book of this series arriving. It was Ludo and the Star Horse by Mary Stewart and I remember having a very vague notion about star signs from reading my mum's womens' magazines, and finding this such a compelling story.
Ludo and the Star Horse told the tale of a peasant boy Ludo who tries to bring his family's faithful old workhorse Renti back home when the horse breaks out and wanders off one winter's night. Lost in snow, Ludo and Renti fall into a ravine and somehow find themselves at the entrance to a realm in which there are twelve houses corresponding to signs of the zodiac. In order to return home, they must catch up to the sun on its journey through each of the houses, and they meet the owner of each house along the way - some being more friendly than others! I am afraid I cried at the end of this. You can actually get it now, and I did to see what my kids thought of it.
I can remember reading Robinsheugh by Eileen Dunlop and being totally carried away by the plot. The protaganist is a young preteen, Elizabeth, who's sent to live with her studious aunt in Scotland. Her aunt is busy researching about the 18thc, and Elizabeth amuses herself through 'dreaming' herself back in time to the period (or does she really dream!) that her aunt is researching in the great house at Robinsheugh. She almost pays the ultimate price though... another book that affected me greatly.
Another book that I remember from that series (I think) was titled Bella. I can't find anything about it on the net but I do remember that the plot centred around a porcelain doll, Bella, that seemed to be haunted and inspired those who came across her to become obsessive about minding her, almost to the point of their own deaths. I'd love to find out who the writer was... I loved that book! Believe me I have trawled the internet in search of it!
Conshelf Ten, by Monica Hughes and Albatross Two, by Colin Thiele come from the very same series and I enjoyed Conshelf Ten, because it was my first ever taste of science fiction, and I liked it very much (more about that later). Albatross Two was the first time I'd ever read about lives outside of the northern hemisphere, and I enjoyed it for it's setting being in the Australian world and I suppose it also introduced me to the notion of protecting our planet from pollution. It planted the seed that I wanted to go down under, (Aus & NZ) which I hope some day I will do.
And then there was the Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats. The great thing about being a kid is that you have no notion of who T. S. Eliot is, or how important his poetry was. All I knew was that there was this great book that my mum had bought, with fabulous pictures and the words were very funny in places too. They sounded great when you read them aloud, which I often did.
No one read this book to me, not because I was deprived or anything, but because I loved reading for myself. I really didn't like to hear other people taking over the words, I wanted to say them and see what they sounded like myself. (Precocious or what? I want to slap that child, now!) How could you not like the sound of names like Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer? And as for Mister Mistoffelees, just roll that name around your mouth like a piece of clove rock - there, doesn't that take you back...?
Another five will pop up in a day or two, when I've gotten over this sudden onslaught of nostalgia! Oh dear, what have I started?
I don't remember very much of the things I read in primary school. I was a very early reader and I munched my way through the Ladybird books, reading about the adventures of Peter and Jane through a good few of them before I actually started school. But I don't know who the writer would have been for them, so this probably doesn't count.
Later on, my dad joined the Children's Book Club, London (1976?)on my behalf. I can still remember, what I am convinced is the first book of this series arriving. It was Ludo and the Star Horse by Mary Stewart and I remember having a very vague notion about star signs from reading my mum's womens' magazines, and finding this such a compelling story.
Ludo and the Star Horse told the tale of a peasant boy Ludo who tries to bring his family's faithful old workhorse Renti back home when the horse breaks out and wanders off one winter's night. Lost in snow, Ludo and Renti fall into a ravine and somehow find themselves at the entrance to a realm in which there are twelve houses corresponding to signs of the zodiac. In order to return home, they must catch up to the sun on its journey through each of the houses, and they meet the owner of each house along the way - some being more friendly than others! I am afraid I cried at the end of this. You can actually get it now, and I did to see what my kids thought of it.
I can remember reading Robinsheugh by Eileen Dunlop and being totally carried away by the plot. The protaganist is a young preteen, Elizabeth, who's sent to live with her studious aunt in Scotland. Her aunt is busy researching about the 18thc, and Elizabeth amuses herself through 'dreaming' herself back in time to the period (or does she really dream!) that her aunt is researching in the great house at Robinsheugh. She almost pays the ultimate price though... another book that affected me greatly.
Another book that I remember from that series (I think) was titled Bella. I can't find anything about it on the net but I do remember that the plot centred around a porcelain doll, Bella, that seemed to be haunted and inspired those who came across her to become obsessive about minding her, almost to the point of their own deaths. I'd love to find out who the writer was... I loved that book! Believe me I have trawled the internet in search of it!
Conshelf Ten, by Monica Hughes and Albatross Two, by Colin Thiele come from the very same series and I enjoyed Conshelf Ten, because it was my first ever taste of science fiction, and I liked it very much (more about that later). Albatross Two was the first time I'd ever read about lives outside of the northern hemisphere, and I enjoyed it for it's setting being in the Australian world and I suppose it also introduced me to the notion of protecting our planet from pollution. It planted the seed that I wanted to go down under, (Aus & NZ) which I hope some day I will do.
And then there was the Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats. The great thing about being a kid is that you have no notion of who T. S. Eliot is, or how important his poetry was. All I knew was that there was this great book that my mum had bought, with fabulous pictures and the words were very funny in places too. They sounded great when you read them aloud, which I often did.
No one read this book to me, not because I was deprived or anything, but because I loved reading for myself. I really didn't like to hear other people taking over the words, I wanted to say them and see what they sounded like myself. (Precocious or what? I want to slap that child, now!) How could you not like the sound of names like Mungojerrie and Rumpelteazer? And as for Mister Mistoffelees, just roll that name around your mouth like a piece of clove rock - there, doesn't that take you back...?
Another five will pop up in a day or two, when I've gotten over this sudden onslaught of nostalgia! Oh dear, what have I started?
Saturday, January 03, 2009
Sixty Years since The Second Sex
It is sixty years since Simone de Beauvoir's book, The Second Sex, was originally published. This book became seminal in feminism, because of the attempt to define woman as she is rather than as the Other, or counterpart, to men. It's combination of existentialism and feminism, as well as discussion of sexuality contributed to the growth of feminism and the (still continuing) search for equality in society.
It's original 'rushed' translation by Howard Parshley meant that the message did not survive completely intact. Apparently Parshley had a limited understanding of French and existentialist philosophy; his expertise was in sexual reproduction; not really a good basis for rendering something so complex as Beauvoir's book.
The Second Sex came about from Beauvoir's attempt to write about herself. After writing that she was a woman, Beauvoir realised that she needed to define 'woman.' The rest, as that awful cliche says, is history (herstory, ourstory?).
I remember reading from my mother's copy a long time ago, on the cusp of womanhood. I don't remember much though I like to think I absorbed some of it by osmosis... (obviously not enough, if I had six children - ah!). I'm very intrigued by whispers of the new translation coming from Cape (Random House), but I can't determine how soon this new translation will be forthcoming, if indeed it has been published. If you have good French, apparently reading it in the original is the most illuminating method of discovering The Second Sex. In the meantime, Happy Anniversary year, Simone & The Second Sex.
It's original 'rushed' translation by Howard Parshley meant that the message did not survive completely intact. Apparently Parshley had a limited understanding of French and existentialist philosophy; his expertise was in sexual reproduction; not really a good basis for rendering something so complex as Beauvoir's book.
The Second Sex came about from Beauvoir's attempt to write about herself. After writing that she was a woman, Beauvoir realised that she needed to define 'woman.' The rest, as that awful cliche says, is history (herstory, ourstory?).
I remember reading from my mother's copy a long time ago, on the cusp of womanhood. I don't remember much though I like to think I absorbed some of it by osmosis... (obviously not enough, if I had six children - ah!). I'm very intrigued by whispers of the new translation coming from Cape (Random House), but I can't determine how soon this new translation will be forthcoming, if indeed it has been published. If you have good French, apparently reading it in the original is the most illuminating method of discovering The Second Sex. In the meantime, Happy Anniversary year, Simone & The Second Sex.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
Random 2008 Book List
I went upstairs this morning to look for a book that I need to complete something, and found myself absorbed by looking through some other books that I acquired across last year (yes, I can now call it last year). So I wrote them down:
Me & The Dead, Katy Evans Bush; accomplished debut collection from Salt.
More About the Song, Rachel Fox; another debut, from a very interesting writer.
New Room Windows, Greagoir O Duill; first English collection from a charming and erudite Irish writer, Doghouse Books.
Down the Sunlit Hall, Eileen Sheehan; breathtaking second collection, Doghouse Books.
Time Gentlemen, Please, Kevin Higgins; second collection from well-known Galwegian poet, Salmon.
Big Pink Umbrella, Susan Millar DuMars; another accomplished first collection, Salmon.
Torching the Brown River, Lorna Shaughnessy; and another... Salmon.
The Glass Swarm, Peter Bennet, Flambard Press Poetry; think this was a Poetry Book Society Choice - must renew that oul subscription.
The Company of Horses, Peter Fallon; the editor of Gallery Press himself, some cracking poems in this.
Dissonances, Nigel McLouglin; a fabulous fourth collection from Bluechrome, some real magic in this.
Thornfield: Poems by the Thornfield Poets; think I mentioned this elsewhere, but it's a good reader for what's contemporary in poetry (by Irish Women) right now - Salmon.
The Bees, Sally Evans; a Diehard publication, this is a virtuoso collection of cantos written in terza rima - not something everyone tries and my children really enjoyed the beautiful illustrations that accompany the text.
The Enthusiast Field Guide to Poetry; this book is very entertaining, well worth the read; from Quercus.
Europa, Moniza Alvi; another Poetry Book Society choice; grim and disturbing reading, but still a worthy choice.
Smoke & Skin, Aoife Casby & Celeste Auge; a dual chapbook featuring two Galway based poets, showcasing their work, Lapwing.
Tornadoes for the Weathergirl, Celeste Auge; a pamphlet of poetry from Invincible Poetry Pamphlet Press.
Paris Stories, Mavis Gallant; recommended by WRW, I'm still reading this, slowly and with savour.
William Hazlitt: The First Modern Man, Duncan Wu; I'll be making my mind up about this soon, OUP.
Hungry For Home: Leaving the Blaskets, Cole Moreton; I'll be honest, this is a gorgeous book - I reviewed it for Verbal Magazine, August issue; even got an interview with Cole!
Slipping Letters Beneath the Sea, Joseph Horgan; another Doghouse poet who won the Patrick Kavanagh in 2005 with the ms that makes up the most of this book about the immi/emigration from/to Ireland. Chilling and startling, and very, very relevant now, given that our 'Celtic Tiger has turned into a Deflated Baboon' (The Guardian, today).
The Canals of Memory, Aine Moynhan; another worthy Doghouse poet whose bilinguality peppers this collection.
The Collected Poems of Geoffrey Holloway; from Arrowhead Press, I am still working through this brilliant resource.
Brace: A New Generation in Short Fiction; from Comma Press, this is a good reader and has some lovely imagistic resonances in the way that the stories reverberate off each other. A notable introduction by the editor, Jim Hinks and a story by a writer who lives locally, Jaki Mc Carrick.
On Form, Angela Leighton; for the early chapter on form itself, a spectacular book and a resource I'll use over and over again, from OUP.
Sister Morphine, Catherine Eisner; another unusual fiction book from risk-takers Salt.
Veronica Forrest-Thomson & Language Poetry, Alison Mark; this should be treated as a companion book to:
The Collected Poems of Veronica Forrest-Thomson; both interesting books, one sheds light on the other's poetry and VFT is overlooked, but hopefully going to get plenty of attention in the future.
Thow in the Vowels, Rita Ann Higgins; since Rita Ann chose a poem of mine to be placed in the Feile Filiochta Competition, I thought it only fair that I purchase and read one of her books - very enjoyable poetry that will have a second relevance in these straitened times.
Letters of Ted Hughes, edited by Christopher Reid; I loved this book from Faber, another valuable resource, I reckon.
The Lost Leader, Mick Imlah; I had terrible trouble trying to get hold of this - it took me three trips to Dublin to finally get hold of this tome from Faber.
Selected Poems of Michael Longley; had to get hold of this when I'd been working with him last year.
Selected Poetry of John Hewitt, ed. Longley & Frank Ormsby; one I'd had on the wishlist for ages, this Blackstaff number was enjoyable for reading the poet of whom Heaney has referred to as the 'Daddy of us all,' with reference to NI poets.
Tattoo: Tatu, Nuala Ni Chonchuir; another worthy solo debut collection from Arlen Press. Nuala is known for her short stories, but her poetry is equally worth reading.
Walk the Blue Fields, Claire Keegan; I've been singing the praises of these short stories to all my classes - justifiably so: they are so, so good, from Faber.
Buzz, Templar Poetry anthology; the pick of the crop of 08's competition entries, a good read of what's up and coming in poetry.
Consorting With Angels, Deryn Rees Jones; despite the title, this is a valuable resource, examining women's poetry from the more recent side of the 20th century, from Bloodaxe.
I can see that it's mostly poetry; no surprises there. Now I'm looking forward to getting my hands on some more poetry this year: especially looking forward to seeing what comes from the Salt stable, amongst many publishers that I'm watching - and the poets; well interesting times ahead for us, I think. Now, back to trying to find that book I was looking for!
Me & The Dead, Katy Evans Bush; accomplished debut collection from Salt.
More About the Song, Rachel Fox; another debut, from a very interesting writer.
New Room Windows, Greagoir O Duill; first English collection from a charming and erudite Irish writer, Doghouse Books.
Down the Sunlit Hall, Eileen Sheehan; breathtaking second collection, Doghouse Books.
Time Gentlemen, Please, Kevin Higgins; second collection from well-known Galwegian poet, Salmon.
Big Pink Umbrella, Susan Millar DuMars; another accomplished first collection, Salmon.
Torching the Brown River, Lorna Shaughnessy; and another... Salmon.
The Glass Swarm, Peter Bennet, Flambard Press Poetry; think this was a Poetry Book Society Choice - must renew that oul subscription.
The Company of Horses, Peter Fallon; the editor of Gallery Press himself, some cracking poems in this.
Dissonances, Nigel McLouglin; a fabulous fourth collection from Bluechrome, some real magic in this.
Thornfield: Poems by the Thornfield Poets; think I mentioned this elsewhere, but it's a good reader for what's contemporary in poetry (by Irish Women) right now - Salmon.
The Bees, Sally Evans; a Diehard publication, this is a virtuoso collection of cantos written in terza rima - not something everyone tries and my children really enjoyed the beautiful illustrations that accompany the text.
The Enthusiast Field Guide to Poetry; this book is very entertaining, well worth the read; from Quercus.
Europa, Moniza Alvi; another Poetry Book Society choice; grim and disturbing reading, but still a worthy choice.
Smoke & Skin, Aoife Casby & Celeste Auge; a dual chapbook featuring two Galway based poets, showcasing their work, Lapwing.
Tornadoes for the Weathergirl, Celeste Auge; a pamphlet of poetry from Invincible Poetry Pamphlet Press.
Paris Stories, Mavis Gallant; recommended by WRW, I'm still reading this, slowly and with savour.
William Hazlitt: The First Modern Man, Duncan Wu; I'll be making my mind up about this soon, OUP.
Hungry For Home: Leaving the Blaskets, Cole Moreton; I'll be honest, this is a gorgeous book - I reviewed it for Verbal Magazine, August issue; even got an interview with Cole!
Slipping Letters Beneath the Sea, Joseph Horgan; another Doghouse poet who won the Patrick Kavanagh in 2005 with the ms that makes up the most of this book about the immi/emigration from/to Ireland. Chilling and startling, and very, very relevant now, given that our 'Celtic Tiger has turned into a Deflated Baboon' (The Guardian, today).
The Canals of Memory, Aine Moynhan; another worthy Doghouse poet whose bilinguality peppers this collection.
The Collected Poems of Geoffrey Holloway; from Arrowhead Press, I am still working through this brilliant resource.
Brace: A New Generation in Short Fiction; from Comma Press, this is a good reader and has some lovely imagistic resonances in the way that the stories reverberate off each other. A notable introduction by the editor, Jim Hinks and a story by a writer who lives locally, Jaki Mc Carrick.
On Form, Angela Leighton; for the early chapter on form itself, a spectacular book and a resource I'll use over and over again, from OUP.
Sister Morphine, Catherine Eisner; another unusual fiction book from risk-takers Salt.
Veronica Forrest-Thomson & Language Poetry, Alison Mark; this should be treated as a companion book to:
The Collected Poems of Veronica Forrest-Thomson; both interesting books, one sheds light on the other's poetry and VFT is overlooked, but hopefully going to get plenty of attention in the future.
Thow in the Vowels, Rita Ann Higgins; since Rita Ann chose a poem of mine to be placed in the Feile Filiochta Competition, I thought it only fair that I purchase and read one of her books - very enjoyable poetry that will have a second relevance in these straitened times.
Letters of Ted Hughes, edited by Christopher Reid; I loved this book from Faber, another valuable resource, I reckon.
The Lost Leader, Mick Imlah; I had terrible trouble trying to get hold of this - it took me three trips to Dublin to finally get hold of this tome from Faber.
Selected Poems of Michael Longley; had to get hold of this when I'd been working with him last year.
Selected Poetry of John Hewitt, ed. Longley & Frank Ormsby; one I'd had on the wishlist for ages, this Blackstaff number was enjoyable for reading the poet of whom Heaney has referred to as the 'Daddy of us all,' with reference to NI poets.
Tattoo: Tatu, Nuala Ni Chonchuir; another worthy solo debut collection from Arlen Press. Nuala is known for her short stories, but her poetry is equally worth reading.
Walk the Blue Fields, Claire Keegan; I've been singing the praises of these short stories to all my classes - justifiably so: they are so, so good, from Faber.
Buzz, Templar Poetry anthology; the pick of the crop of 08's competition entries, a good read of what's up and coming in poetry.
Consorting With Angels, Deryn Rees Jones; despite the title, this is a valuable resource, examining women's poetry from the more recent side of the 20th century, from Bloodaxe.
I can see that it's mostly poetry; no surprises there. Now I'm looking forward to getting my hands on some more poetry this year: especially looking forward to seeing what comes from the Salt stable, amongst many publishers that I'm watching - and the poets; well interesting times ahead for us, I think. Now, back to trying to find that book I was looking for!
Monday, September 01, 2008
The Sound of Silence!
Today is the first day of the new school year! I am practically dancing on my keyboard here, because the peace is simply heavenly after all the running around this weekend. There was a lot of last minute stuff to be bought: pencil cases, things to stuff in pencil cases, things to stuff into the things in pencil cases and another pair of trousers for one of the little ones, because I'd optimistically bought him a pair for his right age, forgetting that he's on the small side, because he's a twin.
Anyway, I come back after my morning walk to post. Two fine books from Salt: Me and the Dead by Katy Evans Bush, and Balancing on the Edge of the World by Elizabeth Baines. Both look extremely yummy from the quick dip I've had. But I'm restraining myself, as I've got more writing to do than can be good for you.
The dissertation is almost due: a little over three weeks, or less... :/ and I really must get my finger out and get the bleeder done. It looks like fifty poems at the moment, the order is wrecking my head and I'm veering from thinking it's a total load of rubbish, to thinking it's okay. Pffft! Revisions, revisions, revisions... if you say it enough times it begins to take on a completely new meaning.
And did I mention how happy I was to be rid of my lil' darlings..?
Anyway, I come back after my morning walk to post. Two fine books from Salt: Me and the Dead by Katy Evans Bush, and Balancing on the Edge of the World by Elizabeth Baines. Both look extremely yummy from the quick dip I've had. But I'm restraining myself, as I've got more writing to do than can be good for you.
The dissertation is almost due: a little over three weeks, or less... :/ and I really must get my finger out and get the bleeder done. It looks like fifty poems at the moment, the order is wrecking my head and I'm veering from thinking it's a total load of rubbish, to thinking it's okay. Pffft! Revisions, revisions, revisions... if you say it enough times it begins to take on a completely new meaning.
And did I mention how happy I was to be rid of my lil' darlings..?
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Days of Rain, Peace & Reviews
The weather so far this summer has been even more crap than last year. So, how come I'm still standing with a smile on my face? Because I've been reduced to three kids this week, not the usual six. The elder ones are away on holidays with their respective dads and it's given me a real breather, not to mention reduced the food bills by a huge factor. As good as a holiday in fact.
In turn, this has allowed me to read and write up a couple of book reviews. I've taken on with writing for Verbal Arts Magazine in NI, a monthly mag that gets distributed free with the Belfast Telegraph, the Newsletter and the Derry Journal. The books they've sent me have been really entertaining, in differing ways,unexpected choices, but I can't say more until the reviews come out. One has led to an interview!
I've leaned into reviewing as it was the only module that I got a first in, up at QUB and is one of the few things I can do from home. I really enjoy putting into words exactly why I've enjoyed reading a book, as it encourages close reading of the text and forces me to really consider all angles: why the language is the way it is; why, if it's a poet, are they using that kind of form; why did the author choose this subject. Engaging stuff. I get far more inside a book when I do that, because it's an active form of reading, as opposed to a passive one, where you read, but don't engage as deeply. I'm not denigrating that sort of a read - it's actually one of my favorite things to retire to bed with something that I can skate through before sleep. But it's always enjoyable to come across really good writing.
In turn, this has allowed me to read and write up a couple of book reviews. I've taken on with writing for Verbal Arts Magazine in NI, a monthly mag that gets distributed free with the Belfast Telegraph, the Newsletter and the Derry Journal. The books they've sent me have been really entertaining, in differing ways,unexpected choices, but I can't say more until the reviews come out. One has led to an interview!
I've leaned into reviewing as it was the only module that I got a first in, up at QUB and is one of the few things I can do from home. I really enjoy putting into words exactly why I've enjoyed reading a book, as it encourages close reading of the text and forces me to really consider all angles: why the language is the way it is; why, if it's a poet, are they using that kind of form; why did the author choose this subject. Engaging stuff. I get far more inside a book when I do that, because it's an active form of reading, as opposed to a passive one, where you read, but don't engage as deeply. I'm not denigrating that sort of a read - it's actually one of my favorite things to retire to bed with something that I can skate through before sleep. But it's always enjoyable to come across really good writing.
Monday, June 23, 2008
You hate that book - but why?
There's a veritable feast of critic's names featuring in this article in yesterday's Sunday Times. They were asked what their most hated book was and why. The answers are interesting in that they highlight the usual considerations: good or bad writing, style and length, and genuine entertainment; as well as more personal ones.
For example, Bryan Appleyard isn't that keen on Henry James' 'The Awkward Age,' saying that although the behemoth of critics, F.R. Leavis might have loved it, it didn't mean that he had to and besides, 'Leavis was mad.' Good on ya, Brian, I often thought that meself.
I remember reading 'The Portrait of a Lady,' or rather wading through all the accumulated clauses, sub-clauses and gluts of psychological description and wondering if I was ever going to get to the end of it. Mind you, there was a good reason for me having to wade through it: it was part of my 19thc literature course.
Funny thing was, by the end of the course and the book, I had learned to love it - the slowness, the deliberation and the really rounded characters (plus I sped-read past the boring bits). The 19thc is a foreign land to us here in the 21stc - they did things differently then and probably didn't have a remote control to flip between things when they got bored. They even did bored differently. They called it 'ennui.'
So, I'm sure there must be books that you detest - why don't you tell me what they are, and why!
For example, Bryan Appleyard isn't that keen on Henry James' 'The Awkward Age,' saying that although the behemoth of critics, F.R. Leavis might have loved it, it didn't mean that he had to and besides, 'Leavis was mad.' Good on ya, Brian, I often thought that meself.
I remember reading 'The Portrait of a Lady,' or rather wading through all the accumulated clauses, sub-clauses and gluts of psychological description and wondering if I was ever going to get to the end of it. Mind you, there was a good reason for me having to wade through it: it was part of my 19thc literature course.
Funny thing was, by the end of the course and the book, I had learned to love it - the slowness, the deliberation and the really rounded characters (plus I sped-read past the boring bits). The 19thc is a foreign land to us here in the 21stc - they did things differently then and probably didn't have a remote control to flip between things when they got bored. They even did bored differently. They called it 'ennui.'
So, I'm sure there must be books that you detest - why don't you tell me what they are, and why!
Saturday, June 21, 2008
A Good Book or Stating the Bleeding Obvious?
I was visiting my friend in Belfast yesterday and she's got a pretty battered copy of Art & Fear. It's one of those books that you pick up and read, quickly immersing yourself, where you find yourself nodding your head vehemently, agreeing with most of the points that it makes.
If you're at the point, either as an artist or writer, where you're wondering what the point of it all is: why you've taken all the right steps to learn your craft; why you've spent years practicing that craft; why some stuff is accepted by others and why some stuff is detested, then this could prove a book beneficial to you as a companion to read on those nights when you feel that your work is worthless, stupid and what is the point anyway.
Or, you could equally read this book on one of those rare days when you've had a good idea, and it has worked its way onto the page/clay/canvas/photographic paper and it's nearly, nearly there, but you feel that something is blocking its completion.
It is a book about ideas, and of ideas. Yet it is explained in such a down to earth manner that you forget that it is a book of abstract concepts, which confirms and argues past all those long-held suspicions about art, the making of art, critical evaluation and reputations, and art academia. Put a copy on your wish-list or treat yourself and get past the fears that hold you back in your art.
If you're at the point, either as an artist or writer, where you're wondering what the point of it all is: why you've taken all the right steps to learn your craft; why you've spent years practicing that craft; why some stuff is accepted by others and why some stuff is detested, then this could prove a book beneficial to you as a companion to read on those nights when you feel that your work is worthless, stupid and what is the point anyway.
Or, you could equally read this book on one of those rare days when you've had a good idea, and it has worked its way onto the page/clay/canvas/photographic paper and it's nearly, nearly there, but you feel that something is blocking its completion.
It is a book about ideas, and of ideas. Yet it is explained in such a down to earth manner that you forget that it is a book of abstract concepts, which confirms and argues past all those long-held suspicions about art, the making of art, critical evaluation and reputations, and art academia. Put a copy on your wish-list or treat yourself and get past the fears that hold you back in your art.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
Looking for a Good Read
I'm off on holidays with eight kids, two adults and a few hairy goats to Glenbeigh, Co. Kerry for a week on Saturday. Given the amounts of precipitation we're having (that's rain to weather forecasters), I think I may need to bring some books to read. I've ordered In Search of Adam, by Caroline Smails, because it seems like a good idea.
Now I need two more suggestions and quick. Prose preferably. Literary possibly. I'll need to order tomorrow night at the latest.
So, any suggestions? It's either that or I start work on that Ark I was thinking of building... where did I leave me glasses.
Now I need two more suggestions and quick. Prose preferably. Literary possibly. I'll need to order tomorrow night at the latest.
So, any suggestions? It's either that or I start work on that Ark I was thinking of building... where did I leave me glasses.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
And now for my latest trick...
... conjuring a first collection out of nothing. I have been awarded a good whack towards publishing the collection from Dundalk Town Council, through the Arts Act 2003 funding. This is a fund that allows local authorities to back creative projects in the arts, big or small. There isn't a great big pot, so I'm very, lucky to have received what I did!
With that, my publisher has sent me a publishing contract to sign, and we will be meeting up during the summer to edit the MS and get it into tip-top shape for publishing. It's funny how you notice those glaring typos and commas, stops and out of place capitals after the fact...
So, some work done, a lot more to do, as a certain Irish political party used to advertise... or was it the national rail network, Iron roads of Eireann?
With that, my publisher has sent me a publishing contract to sign, and we will be meeting up during the summer to edit the MS and get it into tip-top shape for publishing. It's funny how you notice those glaring typos and commas, stops and out of place capitals after the fact...
So, some work done, a lot more to do, as a certain Irish political party used to advertise... or was it the national rail network, Iron roads of Eireann?
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Rob's Tip for the Day
Submit your poetry book or chapbook, pamphlet to the Great Poetry Book exchange!
NOW!
How could it hurt...?
Courtesy of Rob MacKenzie over there in Scotia!
NOW!
How could it hurt...?
Courtesy of Rob MacKenzie over there in Scotia!
Monday, January 08, 2007
The book grab meme
It's a really horrible rainy morning here in Ireland, the kind where you get up and immediately want to go back to bed to keep warm.
I'm supposed to be doing the gathering bit of the hunter-gatherer deal (we women always get the wrong end of the deal!), by going to the supermarket and getting in the weeks groceries, but that involves popping my toe outside the front door and getting very, very wet. There is a twelve foot long puddle on the road outside the drive and every time a car passes by on the road you get a mighty soaking. Forays outside the front door must be very carefully timed indeed.
Instead I'm doing skint's meme.
Grabbing the nearest book,
going to page 123
sentence 5
and posting the next two sentences:
"He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still."
Now, you're supposed to guess the subject of the book.
I'm supposed to be doing the gathering bit of the hunter-gatherer deal (we women always get the wrong end of the deal!), by going to the supermarket and getting in the weeks groceries, but that involves popping my toe outside the front door and getting very, very wet. There is a twelve foot long puddle on the road outside the drive and every time a car passes by on the road you get a mighty soaking. Forays outside the front door must be very carefully timed indeed.
Instead I'm doing skint's meme.
Grabbing the nearest book,
going to page 123
sentence 5
and posting the next two sentences:
"He hoped the boys would stop, but they still waded slowly on. It suddenly dawned on Tom that it was become very lonely and still."
Now, you're supposed to guess the subject of the book.
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
Coven of One - Review - finally!
We are used to thinking of novels like Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice as the über typical bildungsroman, or novel of personal development, where the feisty heroine endures hardship and attains maturity rewarded by their just desserts. But what happens when you combine the esoteric genre of fantasy with the bildungsroman? Coven of One by Kate Bousfield is one answer.
After the intriguing prologue, the scene is set with Dorcas Fleming, the heroine, about to graduate from her thoroughly long education and embark on her first witching placement. Life is only just beginning for Dorcas, as she is despatched beyond the normal boundaries of her known land. Initially, the pace of the novel reflects a rural perspective: nature is lovingly invoked without being overly wordy and the slow build up to Dorcas’ departure is justified by the incorporation of additional exposition which is essential to later plot development.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
Over the River and Back again
Well - that was an interesting, if action packed weekend! I only wish I had more time to spend over there. Minx' second launch went very well for her first novel, The Coven of One, and there was great support from other authors and bloggers. The best bit, was the blogger, enthusiam, who had just read about it that evening and hopped on a bus and arrived!
It was great to put faces to some the blogs I have been inhabiting this last while. Hi skint! And Debi, and the Minx herself! And of course I bought lots of lovely books, to support the authors who guested at the evening.
The venue itself, The Crow on the Hill, is a wonderful example of a really interesting independent bookshop, run by people who know their books and know people. It's always a good sign when you keep on seeing books that you know you'd like to read... The only teeny tiny complaint I'd have was about the Fantasy section, which didn't include any Guy Gavriel Kay
The other really good thing about Saturday, was meeting up with a fellow OU colleague and talking nothing but literary/study/books/film/art stuff non-stop for about 4/5 (possibly longer) hours, whilst driving, shopping and eating (lovely, lovely Italian restaurant) in South London and then dragging said colleague off to the Coven launch that evening, when I realised I was running late! THANKS!
A really big thank you to Debi Alper and her family for the bed for the night - my only regret is not having longer to spend over there. What lovely people!
Oh, and I seem to have beta now...! *scratches head*
It was great to put faces to some the blogs I have been inhabiting this last while. Hi skint! And Debi, and the Minx herself! And of course I bought lots of lovely books, to support the authors who guested at the evening.
The venue itself, The Crow on the Hill, is a wonderful example of a really interesting independent bookshop, run by people who know their books and know people. It's always a good sign when you keep on seeing books that you know you'd like to read... The only teeny tiny complaint I'd have was about the Fantasy section, which didn't include any Guy Gavriel Kay
The other really good thing about Saturday, was meeting up with a fellow OU colleague and talking nothing but literary/study/books/film/art stuff non-stop for about 4/5 (possibly longer) hours, whilst driving, shopping and eating (lovely, lovely Italian restaurant) in South London and then dragging said colleague off to the Coven launch that evening, when I realised I was running late! THANKS!
A really big thank you to Debi Alper and her family for the bed for the night - my only regret is not having longer to spend over there. What lovely people!
Oh, and I seem to have beta now...! *scratches head*
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