Reading journal 2017: Lessing, Athill, Borges ...

The other day I came across a fantastic word you won't find in a dictionary: readlief. It means when you finally get around to start a book you have been meaning to read for years. My reading lists have led to many readliefs. It's rewarding to cross a book off the list, more so when it's a good read. My to-read list doesn't get any shorter, though, as I'm constantly coming across books to add to it. The book lover's dilemma. Below I'm sharing some thoughts on books from my № 7 reading list, which I posted in February. I have created a new category for these kinds of blog entries that I call Reading journal (the year in the title indicates when that particular list appeared on the blog).

№ 7 reading list (6 of 9):

· Fictions by Jorge Luis Borges. This short story collection, described as original, is literary and philosophical, and not for everyone. I have never read anything like it. The first two stories didn't quite grab me but as soon I started the third one, I was hooked. That one is called 'Pierre Menard, Author of the Quixote' (appeared in the Argentine literary journal Sur in May 1939), about a man who rewrites Don Quixote by Cervantes, line-for-line. The idea is brilliant.

· The Grass is Singing by Doris Lessing. When I finished the book my first thought was: powerful. Since then I have heard other people use that same word about the book, which was Lessing's first novel, published in 1950. It starts with the murder of the main character Mary Turner and as you read on you learn about her background and what led to the tragedy, basically the disintegration of her life on a farm in Southern Rhodesia (now Zimbabwe). Lessing grew up there and masterfully describes the African landscape. It's been months since I finished the book and I'm still thinking about it. A good psychology study.

· The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing. This one has become a classic but it's not for everyone. There were parts that I struggled with, parts that I found either repetitive or too long, and it took me quite some time to finish it. However, one cannot argue with the fact that this is an influential literary work. Its good parts have really stuck and I'm glad I finally took the plunge and turned it into a readlief.

· Captain Corelli's Mandolin by Louis De Bernières. I read somewhere that this was a novel with heart and that is exactly how I would describe it. The only thing that bothered me just slightly during the first 100 pages or so were the character introductions (each gets a chapter), which were unavoidable because the novel has so many. Bernières made up for them with delightful, and often comic, details, especially descriptions of life in the village (it takes place on a Greek island during WWII).

· Instead of a Book: Letters to a Friend by Diana Athill. I'm fond of reading letters but towards the end of this collection I was growing a bit weary. Athill and her friend were getting old and the later letters had too much talk about health issues, which is perfectly normal between close friends but isn't a fun read. She comments on this in the postscript and it's the reason she didn't include more letters in the book. Her work Stet is on my to-read list and I have heard nothing but praises, so perhaps you should consider starting with that one if you would like to read something by Athill.

· Local Souls by Allan Gurganus. I decided to postpone the reading. In my blog entry I wrote that I wanted to read his book Oldest Living Confederate Widow Tells All  before reading this one, and that is what I decided to do.

· In Montmartre: Picasso, Matisse and Modernism in Paris, 1900-1910 by Sue Roe. I'm not an art historian but I think this book was well researched. I found it interesting but I would have preferred more photos of the art pieces (I was constantly looking up the works in the text online to make sure I had the right ones in mind or to see the ones I didn't recognise). I enjoyed reading about Picasso, Matisse, and other artists but sometimes there were stories about people related to them that were of little importance for the narrative. Each time I came across these stories, more like snippets, I felt the book could have benefitted from another round of editing.

Have you experienced any recent readliefs?

Currently, I'm finishing the books on my № 8 reading list and will be writing two reviews, about Astrid Lindgren's war diaries, A World Gone Mad, and the novel Pachinko by Min Jin Lee.

Remembering Karen Blixen

Happy Easter! Today is the birthday of Karen Blixen (17 April 1885 - 7 September 1962), a Danish author who wrote many tales under the pseudonym Isak Dinesen (Babette's Feast and Other Stories, Shadows on the Grass, Seven Gothic Tales, Winter's Tales, and Last Tales). She was a gifted storyteller, best known for her book Out of Africa, often described as a lyrical meditation on her life in Kenya, where she had a farm, a coffee plantation (the book has no chronological order). Most people know of Blixen because of Sydney Pollack's film adaptation: While the film may give you an idea of Blixen's life in the stunning African landscape, only by reading the book will you experience its true atmosphere. For me it depicts an Africa I will never experience. A bygone era.

In one of my journals there is a quote by Blixen. Once she was asked how a story begins for a writer and this was her reply, in Danish:

Det begynder med atmosfære, et landskab, der for mig er vidunderligt skønt, og så – så kommer menneskene pludselig ind i billedet. Med det er de der, de lever, og jeg kan lade dem leve videre i bøgerne.

Basically, she is saying that first comes atmosphere, a landscape, which she finds wonderful and then, suddenly, people enter the scene. With that they are there, they live, and she can let them live on in the books. (I found the quote on the FB page of Karen Blixen Museet.)

In February came great news for Karen Blixen fans when it was announced that her book Out of Africa will be turned into a TV series.

image by me | the photo of Karen Blixen appears in the book Letters from Africa 1914-1931

Carnations in my study

The other day my son and I were having breakfast when he asked me what were my favourite flowers. Without thinking I said carnations (on the table was a vase with yellow ones). 'Why?' he asked. 'Because they are durable,' I said, 'they last long.' A few years back I would have said white tulips or peonies, without a doubt. When I think about it I cannot really choose between these three, but carnations are the flowers I buy most of the time (the Spaniards were on to something when they chose the red carnation as their national flower). This is an image I snapped in my study this morning while enjoying a nutmeg latte. Carnations and stacks of books on my desk is a common sight.

Modigliani in the morning light

This morning, as I was refreshing our home for the weekend, I walked into the living room to find Modigliani bathed in the morning light. Not Modigliani himself, obviously, but a framed reprint of his painting Woman with Blue Eyes (1918, oil on canvas). I removed it from the wall and placed it on the mantelpiece next to the carnations and bowl of dates. If you happen to be strolling the streets of Paris, and in the mood for art, you will find the original at the Musée d'Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris.

Wherever I may be in the future I will link artist Amedeo Modigliani to this house. The owner left two framed reprints hanging in the living room that were my first impression when I entered it for the first time. A good first impression.

It is Friday, which in our world means home-made pizza and red wine this evening; a tradition we started when living in the centre of North Zealand in Denmark six years ago. But now it's coffee and inspirational reading in a clean house. Have a wonderful weekend!

Carnations in winter

The difference the sun makes! When this day started it was just one of those dull, grey ones; a typical winter day. I won't say depressing because I had carnations in the living room and I brought coffee in here and some of the books I'm reading. (Do you also read many at once?) Later I was listening to lectures online when something wonderful happened: The sun came out and everything changed. By the way, in Iceland they are celebrating bóndadagur, or what we would call Husband’s Day in English.

Back to the lectures. I like taking free courses online; I think it enriches the spirit and broadens one's horizons. Currently, through Coursera, I'm registered in a class taught at Wesleyan University, called The Modern and the Postmodern (Part 2). The teacher was so enthusiastic about the material in part 1 that I had to continue. He is a teacher that has one's undivided attention, and today he certainly managed it with a series of lectures called 'Intensity and the Ordinary: Art, Loss, Forgiveness'. In that one he uses Virginia Woolf's novel, To the Lighthouse, to show "how giving up the search for the 'really real' can liberate one to attend to the everyday." Those who have read it will know what he's referring to. The book is one of my favourites by Woolf and I happened to reread it last summer. I had told you that I was reading her diaries. Because of the move to Scotland there wasn't much time for reading but now I'm finishing Volume 2, which covers the period 1920-24. I haven't ordered Volume 3, yet, but it's on my book list for February.

Did you know that pink carnations have the greatest significance of them all? It's believed that 'they first appeared on earth from the Virgin Mary's tears – making them the symbol of a mother's undying love' (source). It wasn't the reason I bought them but after I looked up their meaning I find myself looking at them differently. Have a wonderful weekend!

Hydrangeas and September issues

These days in late August give me pleasure: morning coffees, walks, mainly to enjoy blooming hydrangeas, slightly darker afternoons, and book reading by candlelight in rain or thunderstorms. Then there are the September issues. In my case, only one is a fashion magazine. The World of Interiors is as solid as ever; it always seems to leave me feeling a bit richer.

A few years ago I very likely would have bought a few editions of Vogue (there are old September issues of the American, British, French, Italian, and German on my shelves) but at some point, I stopped. I hadn't really planned on buying Harper's Bazaar UK but when I leafed through it in the shop there was a feature that caught my attention, on Amanda Brooks and her beautiful country home in Oxfordshire. Brooks is the former fashion director of Barneys in New York.

I think my buying the issue had also something to do with the Vita Kin dress Brooks is wearing in one photo. I'm fascinated with the design, patterns and embroidery, of these traditional Ukrainian garments - vyshyvanka. I wondered if I would grow tired of them now that everyone seems to be wearing them but it doesn't look that way. These are classics.

Apart from beautifully styled and photographed editorials that tell a story (often hard to find), there really isn't much in fashion magazines anymore that particularly appeals to me. I'm referring to the fashion part. I think I have grown out of them and I'm weary of the way fashion is presented. What's with these endless label-orientated collages of the pieces of the season that always look the same? I'm much more interested in the design process itself and what inspired a designer's collection. That's why I was pleasantly surprised with an interview with Maria Grazia Chiuri and Pierpaolo Piccoli, the creative directors at Valentino. Just look at their mood board below for this year's autumn collection. This is what I want to see.

In the interview they honour the relationship with their seamstresses, who 'put their own passion and love into the collection. . . . There is a lot of care in every single dress, in every single detail, and you feel that it is something very precious' (p. 313). They have added a third couture atelier and are training young people to learn the skills. As Chiuri points out: 'There is a dignity in this job, but it is also fun to see a punky girl in her Doc Martens working beside a 60-year-old lady in slippers - two generations together, sharing the knowledge and expertise' (p. 314). You can view a few Valentino design details on my Tumblr page.

Another enjoyable article was about Diana Vreeland, the legendary fashion editor, written by British historian Kathryn Hughes (her biography of George Eliot is on my wish list). A new book about Vreeland will be published by Rizzoli in October, Diana Vreeland: the Modern Woman: The Bazaar Years, 1936-1962, edited by her grandson Alexander Vreeland.

There were plenty of features in The World of Interiors that appealed to me. One in particular, about a Mexican ranch bordering Arizona, owned by designers Jorge Almada and Anne-Marie Midy of the Casamidy furniture company. Think traditional rugs with diamond patterns and leather chairs. Midy describes the surrounding landscape as 'green after the summer rains, but bleached pale gold by the autumn' (p. 130). I want to sit on that veranda and take it all in.

An article about Caffè Stern in the Passage des Panoramas in Paris made my heart beat a little faster because of Picasso cushions that are part of the décor (see one in the above photo to the left). I cannot remember when I first fell flat for them. The covers are woven by hand and handcrafted in Flanders, created in collaboration with the Picasso foundation. A few covers are available in The Conran Shop in London.

Soon the kids go back to school and the bright colours of the hydrangeas will start to fade. Eventually, the tree leaves will start to turn. Part of me looks forward to crisp autumn mornings; another part hopes for an Indian summer.

[Update: Because of a comment below about the olive textile sample and an email I received about the red one: All samples in this post are from Fermoie. The olive green is Rabanna (L-077), the red is Marden (L-275), and the striped ones spotted in one photo are York Stripe (blue L-173, red L-016). These are all 100% cotton. All info on the yellow one spotted in a few photos is in my blog post yellow fabrics by Fermoie.]

Letter from New York by Helene Hanff

No, I'm not writing from New York (wouldn't mind, though), I just finished reading this wonderful book, Letter from New York, by Helene Hanff, published in 1992. I already told you that I had ordered a used copy and mine turned out to be a first edition; an old library copy with a plastic cover that makes cracking sounds when one turns a page - love the feeling!

I recently blogged about Hanff's book 84 Charing Cross Road (see here) and told you that I had fallen for her witty style. She is just as witty in Letter from New York but that book contains stories she wrote for six years for the BBC Woman's Hour broadcast after her success with 84 Charing Cross Road. These stories are about her life in New York, about her neighbours (people and dogs - she lived at 305 East 72nd Street), friends, walks in Central Park, etc.

Hanff isn't a glamorous person but writes with passion about daily life in her community and on the streets of the city. She's a keen observer and easily cracks me up. If you haven't already travelled to New York I think you will be eager to visit after the reading, even though she is describing New York in the late 70s and early 80s. What I especially love about her is how comfortable she is with making fun of herself. I wish she were still among us because we need people like Hanff in this world.

I probably don't have to tell you that I have already ordered my third book by her and I'm expecting a used copy of Q's Legacy to arrive in the mail soon.

My Sunday moment

Coffee, biscotti, and my new book, The Shape of Love, the second autobiography of ballerina Gelsey Kirkland, which arrived in the mail yesterday.