e-What now?

I do believe it's Thursday, and that means that I will be Booking Through Thursday. Which is lucky, because my brain is still somewhat addled, and I'm not up to genuine thought all of my own. What a blessing this website is, for the ill and uninventive.

• Do you read e-Books?
• If so, how? On your computer, or a PDA?
• Or are you a paper purist? Why?

Well, my answer to the first question is quite short. No, I don't. I'm not entirely sure what e-Books are, and, to be frank, I don't really want to know. They're an amazing boon for those with sight-trouble, to whatever extent, as are much easier to transform into audio formats - but, for myself, I will never voluntarily read something on screen which is available on paper.

Why? Hmm.

I suppose it's partly snobbery, if book-media-snobbery is a valid subsection, but mostly e-Books offer none of the things I want from books, aside from the content. That might sound a little silly, but, as they say, "you can't curl up with a computer". This is a blogger who has bought books on the basis of their smell. I don't like the smell of new books much, (by the by, have started the O'Farrell now), but older ones... where will I get the intrinsic history of secondhand books in the computing arena? An Amstrad doesn't cut it.

Howsabout yourself? Obviously anyone reading this has access to a computer, but do you/would you consider e-Books?

P.s. sorry for lack of sketches of late - take more thought and energy than are currently available. I lied yesterday, this is definitely a Man-Cold.

Illness and Eccentricity

I must apologise for my absence yesterday, the reasons are twofold.

Firstly, I'm afraid, like those computers into which you are currently staring, I am not invulnerable to viruses. Have come down with a cold, and feeling sorry for myself. Men have it hard, though - the merest mention of a cold, and all females within hearing-distance thrown up their hands and cry "Man-cold! Man-cold!" Well, this is not a Man-cold, I am merely inconvenienced and grumbly. And consequently I'm not talking about books, just for today.

Instead, I have a lovely eccentric Oxford story, for those of you who like to hear about Oxford's, erm, eccentricities.

At the end of our exams, each subject has 'School's Dinner', where all the students and tutors for your subject, in your college, come together for a lavish dinner. The English one was yesterday, so of course Yours Truly was in attendance. I had asparagus, goat's cheese mousse, mushroom ravioli, Summer pudding. Yum. But this all came with a side order of oddness - the tutor who arranged it is Robert Douglas-Fairhurst, affectionately known as 'Bobby' amongst his fond pupils. He decided it would be witty to write "Dress Code : Daring" on our invitations. Not black tie for this little gathering. And we chose not to follow our usual path, or taking everything Bobby says with a pinch (or a tablespoon) of salt - and, indeed, went a little daring. Daring in terms of ignoring usual dress decorum, anyway.

I went in my dressing gown.

Let's pretend I look like this guy...

50 Books...

It's been quite a while since I introduced a new book to my '50 Books You Must Read But May Not Have Heard About'. That's partly because I have those examination things, but also partly because I got a little bit panicky... running through my fifty so quickly, I wanted to make sure the central thread of the blog didn't end by June, leaving me without that directing force. Plus I lost the list I made.

I've talked before about my troubled ethics in reading the diaries of others. I've never sure whether or not it's too invasive - and while I make up my mind, I devour authors' diaries at a rate of knots. Same can of worms, but a different kettle of fish, provided by letters. I love writing and receiving them - I also love reading those written between others, especially when those others happen to be interesting, literary, friendly types - like Joyce Grenfell and Virginia Graham.

Confession first. I haven't actually read this entry in the list of 50 books. Nope. But, may I add before you throw your hands up in horror and strike this website from your list of links, I have listened to it on cassette at least fifty times. One to which I listen, when slumbering.

Dear Joyce, Dear Ginnie, as the cassette is called, or Joyce & Ginnie: The Letters of Joyce Grenfell and Virginia Graham, the more prosaic title of the book, is well worth looking out for. Indeed, a 'must-read' for anyone intrigued by either correspondent. Everyone knows who Joyce was - for those unfamiliar with Virginia, she was a poet whose work includes Consider The Years, now republished by Persephone. The exchange of letters between the two women spans many, many years, and offers a unique perspective upon the lives of each - life as they wished to convey it to their closest friend. Without the modesty (assumed or otherwise) requisite for autobiography, or the idolatory of biography, reading letters may feel a little like encroaching upon a friendship, but also allows closer and more genuine understanding of the women than available elsewhere.

Grenfell appears to have been a prolific letter-writer - I'm also currently enjoying An Invisible Friendship, letters between Grenfell and Katharine Moore, a pen-friend she never met, though who often attended Grenfell's concerts and readings. What makes Dear Joyce, Dear Ginnie superior, to my mind, is that they saw each other as equals. Katharine Moore (though interesting writer herself, as Cordial Relations demonstrates) never quite loses the sense of appreciation and awe that Grenfell is writing to her.

So there you are. If you've hurriedly read all 9 previous recommendations in this ongoing list (seen on the left hand side, somewhere) then here is manna for you. It's even available, from £0.01, on Amazon. Don't say I don't spoil you.

8 Random Facts

I've been delaying the '8 Random Facts' for a while, having been tagged by a couple of people. In fact, I had it in store for when inspiration didn't hit anywhere else. And, dear reader, you find me tonight rather uninspired... so let's hope the 8 Random Facts will not be an unmitigated bore. Also, can I suggest the term 'arbitrary', rather than 'random', since the latter has entered the vernacular for my generation, generally referring to anything unexpected or unusual. And it begins to wear.

Anyhow, without further ado, my arbitrary truths...

1) I am a Christian, and Jesus is the centre of my life, influencing everything I do. Hard to talk about it without sounding gushy and dramatic, but you should know me well enough by now to realise I ain't either of the above!

2) I'm quite famous, me. Have been on television twice. My first appearance was 1996, on Tomorrow's World - the crew came to my school, and asked my class what we thought would happen in the year 2000. I said (having just read my Gillian Cross) that computers would use subliminal frames to take over the world. The evidence supports my prediction, I think...
The second time was on Countdown last September. Great fun. I lost. But against the person who came third in the overall series...

3) You all know that I'm at Oxford University, but did you know I had to get through 6.5 interviews to occupy my Magdalen palace? Brasenose, Brasenose, (Jesus), Oriel, Magdalen, Merton, Magdalen. Jesus is in brackets because I was sent there, analysed the set poem for a while, waited outside the professor's room... only to be told they had no idea why I was there. Had been sent to the wrong college. But it all worked out well in the end!

4) I hate parsnips. Sooooo much. When I'd just had my brace put in (now, thankfully, gone) my family went to dinner with some friends. They all got roast dinner. I got a bowl of curried parsnip soup. The nightmares still return...

5) Most bloggers I visit have an 'and also...' interest, alongside books. Opera, photography, gardening, cooking... I'm afraid mine is less sophisticated. It's Neighbours. For friends across the pond, that's an Australian Soap Opera. And it's awful, but I love it. Anyone else watch a trashy soap? Confess!

6) You know that I have a Carbon Copy. Did you know that Our Vicar is also a twin? And that Thomas (our collective surname) means 'twin'? Zany.

7) Music, you ask? My favourite album is Kathryn Williams' Old Low Light. Check it out.

8) Alongside my televisual fame, I have also encountered some of my celebrity chums in person. Dame Judi Dench and Prince Charles, to name but two.

Daisy, Daisy...

In case you were worried I'd gone all 21st century, this post will reassure you. Recent novels may be brimming with topicality, but they don't compare with the charm and appeal of the book I picked up today in Oxfam. Not sure how discernible the picture is, so I'll tell you about it.

Man Proposes does sound a little like the least complex novel ever written, but it is in fact not a novel, it is an anthology. I mentioned Katharine Moore's Cordial Relations: The Maiden Aunt in Fact and Fiction as exemplifying an unusual and intriguing premise for a book of analysis. Man Proposes is another - Agnes Furlong has collected many incidents of proposals, mostly from literature, and published them together, with some rather oddly beguiling illustrations by Olive M. Simpson. You know how I love oddly beguiling illustrations...

How do people think of things like this? And what a lot of work must have gone into it. Equally, how could I leave it on the shelf? £1.99 in the Oxfam till, and this book accompanied me home. Published in 1948, Man Proposes is divided into nine sections, though I've yet to quite determine the significance of these divisions. Cited authors include Austen, Dickens, Shakespeare, Alcott, Tennyson, Daisy Ashford (hilarious), E.M. Delafield, Hardy, Trollope, Laski (for Persephone fans), J. M. Barrie, Wilde, Lear, Leacock (love him), Shaw... oh, there are dozens of them. The comedic is alongside the touching; the famous with the obscure. While I wouldn't offer this as a Users' Guide (though I read the first one to two friends, both of whom went slightly weak at the knees) it provides an interesting and amusing insight into authors' dealing with this climactic moment for centuries of literature. And it wouldn't have a hope of being published now.

Thoroughly Modern Simon

Lynne, over at dovegreyreader, has thrown down the gauntlet. She has a way of doing this. And it all dates back rather a long way. Sitting comfortably? Then I'll begin.

Back in the days when 'blogging' was merely a misprint, Lynne, Elaine (Random Jottings) and I belonged to an online list, now known as dovegreybooks@yahoogroups.com. They've had a few mentions on here before, and are still flourishing. Though an extremely amiable group, it was not underheard of for Lynne to cajole Elaine and myself into Modern Books, nor for us to dig our heels in. My reading is often sequestered firmly in the period 1900-1950, and anything after this makes me feel slightly dizzy.

Well, Elaine has been brave and noble (or, wait for it, Barnes and Noble) and succombed to the charm of the 21st century, alongside healthy doses of Victorian literature and early-2oth century, of course. A challenge, if you will. Where Elaine has bravely gone, there must I also go. Now that my learnin' at Oxford is officially over (for the time being, at least) I shall be venturing, oh-so-tentatively, into the sphere of Modern Literature, as prescribed by Nurse Dovegreyreader.

So, off I went yesterday, £5 book token clutched in hand, to those shelves of shiny, reflective, non-olde-worlde-smelling books, determined to find something to appease Lynne, and to make myself feel Thoroughly Modern. But... for someone who has bought about 10 new novels ever, it all felt rather wrong. I am at home in secondhand bookshops, or abebooks.co.uk, or even ebay. These coffee table items, all sparkling clean and with 'Half Price!' , 'Buy One Get One Free!', '20% Off If You Stand On One Leg When Paying!' stickers... it's all a little terrifying. And do you know what, I feel guilty buying new books. Guilty! I managed to quash book-buying-guilt by the time I was eight. But it all feels a little too... how should I put it... commercial. I can see the Big Businesses behind new books - in secondhand bookshops the benefitting parties are seated behind the desk, wearing brown cardigans and smoking pipes.

But I pushed all this aside. And came out with Maggie O'Farrell's book, The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox. And came away with change from my book token.

I'll report back soon. Wish me luck.

Queries and Postage

Please note that the United States Post Office raised first-class postage prices from 39 cents to 41 cents. Unfortunately, due to the large amount of queries the agency receives it is simply not possible for us to cover the difference on any queries sent without 41 cent stamps. As a result, responses will only be provided to queries that are either of interest or include the proper postage. If you have questions or concerns about this policy, you may email me at info@lyonsliterary.com.