NotJustAHatStand

Labels: Books, reading, tales from the draft folder

I used to be a one-book-woman. I'd start one book, and I wouldn't crack open another until I had finished the first.

These days though, I'm much more promiscuous.

I currently have three books on the go - Gulliver's Travels by Jonathan Swift (which I carry back and forwards to work with me because it's a good handbag-sized book), The Old Curiosity Shop by Dickens (which sits on my bedside table), and the first part of The Lord Of The Rings (which also sits on my bedside table).

I read Gulliver's Travels when I was little, but it must have been a childrens version. I remember being fascinated by the illustrations of the tiny Lilliputians clambering over Gulliver when they discover him asleep in the countryside, but that's really all I remember. So when I started reading it again recently, I was a bit taken aback. Swift apparently wanted to piss some people off with Gulliver's Travels: 'to vex the world rather than divert it'. The blurb on the back cover, which I am just reading now, explains my feelings exactly: "'Gulliver' is a book to which the adult reader comes back with surprise and a fresh respect". You said it mate. It's not a kiddie's story about tiny people and giants - it's a satire. And a good one too.

The Old Curiosity Shop is my 'serious' reading. I am woefully ignorant of many classic books that I should have read long before now, so I'm trying to read as many as I can.

But I often feel the need for a bit of escapism at the end of a long day, which is where The Lord Of The Rings comes in. It's World Book Day today, and to celebrate the 10th anniversary they have compiled a list of 10 Books You Can't Live Without - LOTR came second.* Higher than the Bible, which came 6th. I've never read the bible, but I've read LOTR many times, and I suspect I'll read it many more times in my life. So I suppose it is one of the books I couldn't live without.

I do still get a wee twinge of guilt that I don't focus completely on one book any more, but if I'm going to get through the books on my shelves by the time I collect my pension (which will be a loooong time yet the way things are going in this country) then I'm going to have to step up the pace.

Maybe a book in each hand...?

*And I see the people who compiled this list are unable to spell 'Tolkien' properly. Good stuff.

Labels: Books, reading

This weekend Fiance and I are planning to sort out the flat once and for all. When we moved in we unpacked in a kind of haphazard, 'fling-that-in-there-for-now' kind of way, but we've never gotten around to sorting stuff out properly. ConsequentlyI feel that we've not properly settled, because our stuff is just kind of strewn about the place and nothing really has it's own place. But what's really bothering me is the state of my books (I know - I bet you weren't expecting that). Like everything else they just got turfed onto the nearest bookshelf in any old order, which is in direct contract to my previous, strict alphabetical-by-author-surname system. And don't even get me started on my Excel spreadsheet - I've not updated it since July so I have no idea what my current total is, or even which books I can score off my Amazon wishlist before Christmas. As a person who buys a book (or two, or five) every couple of weeks, this means my spreadsheet is now dramatically out of date. But these things are all easily rectified.

Our lack of adequate storage for said books is a bit more problematic.

We own 3 and a half bookshelves, which isn't nearly enough as they're all full to the gunnels, and I have to dedicate one shelf to my fancy books as I can't bear to squish them in with all the scraggy old paperbacks. But we don't have any more spare WALLS on which to place additional bookshelves, so there are always stacks of books lying around (there's currently a pile of em on my kitchen table, for instance). This doesn't bother me but Fiance grumbles about it on a regular basis - he keeps saying that we're going to end up surrounded by the things, sitting on them, sleeping on them, using them for pillows and plates, and for keeping us warm at night.

Fiance and I differ slightly in our approach to resolving this - his solution? Stop buying books. At least until I've read all the ones I own. Whenever he says this I proclaim loudly and dramatically that I simply cannot stop expanding my library as this would be like his stopping following football (at which point he casts his eyes heavenward). It is true that I haven't read all the books I own, but I see this as a good thing - I will never be bored or stuck for something to read, and neither will he (he loves reading too, although it may not sound like it). My solution to the book storage problem is to call in a professional.*

I think the only way we're going to be able to store all the books we currently own, AND have room for all the ones I plan on buying in the future, is to have someone come and build us one he-uge bookshelf, and give the Ikea ones the old heave-ho. This sounds like paradise to me, living in a house lined with books. Unfortunately Men With Hammers cost money, and at the moment we have other things to spend our hard-earned on so it will have to wait. But I refuse to curb my bookishness, especially when there are so many bargains around (just the other day I bought Moby Dick by Herman Melville and Amsterdam by Ian McEwan in the charity shop for £3).

Fiance will just have to make his peace with it.

*And not a mental health professional to address my addiction, despite Fiance's opinion on the matter.

Labels: Book collecting, Books, Fiance, reading

This here is my first post from my new hoose - the pooter is now healthy and happy again, after some tender ministrations from Fiance over the weekend. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for myself. I woke up on Friday morning with a horrible scratchy throat, always a bad sign, which has since developed into a full blown cold. It's Sunday night and I'm only just starting to feel human again.

Unfortunately I had a work do on Friday night that I had to go to. I'd been saying all week long that I was going to have a headache on Friday night to avoid going to this thing (why do they insist on having these things on a FRIDAY, for pete's sake?!), so you can imagine how well it would've gone down, me saying that I actually was ill. So I had to go and laugh at the jokes, smile, eat the food and drink the wine when all I wanted to do was go home, curl up in a ball and whimper.

But thankfully, Fiance has taken pity on me - in addition to bringing me tea, toast and tissues, he's been washing the dishes, cooking, hanging up laundry and (best of all) tidying the spare room. So I am now able to get to the PC without having to clamber over yet-to-be-unpacked boxes. I can actually see the floor in here!

There are some benefits to feeling ill though - I finished Rebecca and have started on 'Eragon' by Christopher Paolini. I enjoyed Rebecca immensely. I thought it would bug me that you never learn the narrator's name (other than 'Mrs de Winter'), but it didn't. I didn't need to know. I did get kind of frustrated halfway through because she was such a wishy-washy character, unable to stand up to Mrs Danvers. I wanted to shake her and tell her to pull herself together - she was the lady of the house for pete's sake, she could do whatever the hell she liked. But then in the end she did grow some balls and I started to respect her. I'm glad because I think it would've ruined the book completely for me if she hadn't. I'm not sure about Eragon yet, as I've only read the first chapter, but it'll be a change as the last few books I've read have all been a bit serious.

I'm on holiday all next week - thank the good lord.

Labels: Illness, reading

Continuing yesterday's theme of books and bookishness...

I've been thinking about posting a meme on a regularish basis for a while now, but I always kind of forget about it. And they're not so popular any more - a few months ago I couldn't go a week without having to think about what my favourite cocktail was or my first pet's name or some such nonsense. So that doesn't bode well for my regular feature: Knowing Meme, Knowing You. But this one, of course, caught my interest to the point where I actually typed out my answers to the questions. I just forgot to post em.

1. Number of books owned
I don't know exactly, but over 300 - probably in the region of 320-330. I know this because I keep a catalogue in Excel (which is now sadly out of date due to house move but soon to be updated). That is the kind of sad freak that I am.

2. Last Book Bought:
Notes on a Scandal by Zoe Heller and Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. Both £2 from the charity shop.

3. Last Book Read:
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro, and am now reading Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.

4. Five Books That Mean A Lot To Me:

I had to resist the urge to pick five of my childhood favourites here, as they are the books that I can truly say mean a lot to me, so I've included a token grown up book.

The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood - the first Atwood book I ever read, and the subject of my RPR in Higher English.

Winnie The Pooh by A. A Milne - every child should read about the adventures of Pooh, Piglet and the other inhabitants of Hundred Acre Wood, before they are sullied by Evil Disney Pooh*.

The Hobbit (and LOTR) by J.R.R Tolkien - I love being able to escape to Middle Earth for a while.

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame - more talking animals, what more could you possibly want?!

Little Women by Louisa May Alcott - I've lost count of the number of times I've read this. It's one of my all time favourite books, and the sad bit still has the ability to make me cry after all these years.

5. The book I’ve read more times than any other:

Probably either Little Women, Winnie the Pooh or Bill Bryson's Notes From A Big Country (now there's a book that'll make you snort tea up your nose)

6. Tag five people to continue this meme:
Vicki
Sarah
Unfortunately these are the only two bloggy friends that I have. I'm a Bloggy-No-Mates.

*Disclaimer: This is not the real Pooh. The REAL Pooh (before those Disney bastards got hold of him and turned him into the heinous, orange monstrosity in the above link) looks like this. This is something of a pet hate of mine, by the way, in case you hadn't guessed.

Labels: Books, memes, reading