January

So in January I enjoyed quite a bit of Christmas light reading. Just gobbled it down like it was a little piece of Christmas cake with a cup of tea. Read the two first 'Sunday Philosophy Club' books by Alexander McCall Smith, mostly I think because the main character was having even less of a social life / love life than me and I wanted her to get one. I kept hoping she'd jump out of character and madly shag the younger man, over the edge of a banister at a Edinburgh socialite party and scandalise all the other well ironed, well read, well spoken, nicely mannered welll behaved sorts. But she didn't, and neither did I. I finished 'Perfume' which I started just before Chrissie, and wondered if I was the only person left on the planet who hadn't read it. It made me worry for days about whether I was a bad person, whether I too was a dreadful narcissist - because I feel driven too sometimes (not to do awful things to people or steal their smells, just for the record) and am good at some things without knowing how or why. Are we starting to uncover a theme here - maybe I get too attached to the characters of books, too involved with the plot.

Then read an old Angela Carter I picked up second hand - only $4 thank you Glebe Books - 'Fireworks'. Hadn't read it before and quite liked it. Some short stories set in japan, quite a few nature themes, still fairytale-esque, gruesome, bleak, funny, one even a little bit sci fi in a 'when the revolution comes' kind of a way, some very self aware stories of the narrator in love. Liked it. All over the place, but somehow held together. Then started reading and still haven't finished an old second hand Margaret Atwood book of short stories 'Bluebeard's Egg' - at $12, not quite as good as Glebe Books but nice coffee, thanks Sappho Books. This has interesting connections to Angela Carter in some ways, as I think she also did a retelling of the Bluebeard's Egg fairytale, didn't she? Also as two very significant (I think) Northern Hemisphere female authors from the late 20th century, tackling edgy tales with a wry sense of humour and little squeamishness about human frailties... The Atwood collection I'm still going with. I think if anything, Atwood's work has a more consistent voice - these are all relationship stories, all set in the late 1970's, early 80's (it feels like) - and even though the perspectives shift around, the points change, the motivations and machinations shift about, the canvas is generally a relationship. But sad, or desperate, or louche, or self deluding, and often amusing. The Carter short stories covered more ground, had more breeze flowing through them, more shifting of the edges of things, were less 'even', in a way that I like.

Also on the 'to be continued' pile for January are the started but haven't got far Walt Whitman 'Leaves of Grass'. Started this around new years and made myself finish the poems Song of Myself and also I Sing the Body Electric, both of which I knew of and had seen snippets quoted from but not read. I know it's no great feat to read 2 single poems from a whole book, but it was a start, and to be honest I found 'Song of Myself' hard going in bits, because of the repetition, and because it's hard to sustain that sense of intense awe for as long as the poem goes. I am wowed by Whitman and even though he was an intense patriot, and that is very uncool these days (for lots of good reasons) he was so subversive in so many ways. His singing of praise for women as humans and sexual agents and moral beings who are not special wounded treasures or senseless voids is very cool for the mid-1800's. His abundance of feeling and his fascination with the world is lovely, if a little intense. It's all very mystical really, which is so not the image I had of him before I read his stuff - this bearded almost Hemmingway-esque man's man is what I had in mind - which in some ways he was, and in other ways not. (Which is not to say that Hemmingway wasn't moving too, just not so much into the magic of a leaf of a grass). A Deep Ecology posterchild, in verse.

Finally, on the 'ooops, didn't finish you or even really get much further into you' pile, is Fritjof Capra's 'Uncommon Wisdom'. I had been meaning to read his 'The Tao of Physics' or 'The Turning Point' for a while now and mum kindly hunted me down a copy of the Tao of Physics.. but for some strange reason I started with this one first. Why? Because I thought it was a series of interviews - possibly forgiveable given the subtitle 'Conversations with remarkable people'. However, little did I know, this is actually a 'the making of' book, which basically weaves its way through his own personal history to telll the story of him writing the other two books, his own personal journey and the people he met along the way that inspired him. I think this is like watching a detailed 'making of' for a movie that you haven't read yet - probably not such a hot idea. I think I will keep going, especially because his meetings with Schumacher are yet to come, but overall I'm not such a fan of the structure or the writing style. I'm hoping the other ones were written in the heat of the rapture and this one is the retelling after the meal has gone cold, because otherwise I'm going to wonder what all the excitement was about with the others. I suspect I''ll still be reading this one come Christmas. I suspect that avoiding it was half the momentum for my other reading this month.

Oh I also started, accidentally*, Eckarte Toll's 'the Power of Now', which I almost deliberately didn't mention because it sounds so woo woo 'I swim with dolphins'. Which I don't, but actually would quite like to. And it in some ways is, and in many ways isn't. I think I quite respect him for having the guts to be raw and open and speak honestly with the world about the way he sees it. And even though that's paid off, in a material sense, you get the feeling that material gain wasn't where he was coming from. He apparently spent almost a year (I'm making the details of this bit up - too lazy to go find the book and find that bit to verify) sitting on a park bench, with no actual job or income, having given up everything after he had his revelation, processing, and thinking about how to do good in the world. And of course you could argue that he'd had a psychotic episode (any sudden flashes of meaning are routinely interpreted as mental illness in our society?), perhaps he just did let go of a heap of crap and suddenly want to share that new vision with people. Anyway. It is quite gentle and makes a lot of interesting points. I just haven't been able to finish it yet because it may require some actual response on my behalf, and I haven't wanted to engage. It is second only to Fritjof on my avoiding list.

*Grabbed offf housemates shelf, flicked and then absentmindedly carried to couch for chapter reads