Mary Oliver, New and Selected Poems, Vol.1

My Mary Oliver book of selected poems has arrived and it sits patiently on top of the pile of books I ought to read next. I have been ignoring my blog for a while now but I know I will have to return here some day and write, no matter how much darkness I carry inside me. The world as I know it has changed tremendously since the last time I was here. There are days I don’t think I have anything left to say. There are people in the world who said it all already and in a much neater way than I will ever be able to. And so I return with the words of a poet because my dreams too leave me hopeful that one day I will wake up and this all will no longer pain me.

 

 

 

Currently reading: 

A Death in the Family by Karl Ove Knausgaard

Sharp Objects, Shade’s Children, the Light Princess and Gogglebox

Work has swallowed up the last couple of months of my life hence the silence on wordpress. Social life was barely there, not enough books were read or plays seen, but to keep the record of November and December, I wish to at least mention the events which punctured my evenings and weekends.

First, I finished the last, or the first in her career, of Gillian Flynn’s novels, Sharp Objects. Disturbing, dark and one of these rare books that made me shudder, my skin crawl with discomfort, a book I would not read twice. Extremely well written as all of her books are, with the words breathing at you off every page, but the subject matter of Sharp Objects was a bit too close to skin for my liking.

I then read a book I would never have picked up if not for my book-dealer of a friend – Garth Nix’s Shade’s Children. A futuristic fantasy and sci-fi imaginarium with evil and good meeting and fighting through the bodies of mutt creatures and innocent children. I devoured the Hunger Games and regarded Shade’s Children as a welcome substitute. Being of a similar subject matter, I continued reading it even though it did disappoint me on a number of occasions. I applaud the idea and the characters, but not so much the lukewarm execution. Something a bit more universal I felt was lacking.

National Theatre’s The Light Princess comes next. What can I say about a production so extraordinary and fantastic it left me speechless and breathless throughout the performance and hours after. After the death of her mother, Althea became so light she floated up, she was unable to cry and lived her young life locked up in a tower. There is a prince who lost his mother too, with a heavy heart he goes through life turning into a brave warrior…I then tell you it’s a musical and you think, sod this, I have better things to do, but you’d be so wrong to miss this…Marianne Elliott’s direction, Tori Amos’ music and lyrics, an unbelievably enjoyable script, staging which kept the audience ah’ing and oo’ing, guessing how this or that was done, draws you in reaching out to the tiniest crevices of your imagination. If you live or visit London, this is a show you must not miss.

ROH’s How the Whale Became was a bit of a disappointment, not for the story which was new and incredible to me, but the singing – not a big fan of opera me and forcing kids to listen to hours of operatic singing with no melody or tune to it was a bit too much. Must find and read the stories now.

 

And finally, the winner of the season – Gogglebox, junk TV at it’s best!! I cannot wait for the day to end so I can sit down, glass of wine in hand, and watch people watching TV. Yes, I know how that sounds, but if you have not seen it, please do, what an amazing social experiment and a great source of laughter, too.

 

 

 

Princesses and Goblins

“Here I should like to remark, for the sake of princes and princesses in general, that it is a low and contemptible thing to refuse to confess a fault, or even an error. If a true princess has done wrong, she is always uneasy until she has had an opportunity of throwing the wrongness away from her by saying: ‘I did it; and I wish I had not; and I am sorry for having done it.” 
― George Macdonald, The Princess and the Goblin

I must begin by saying that when I finished the book, I felt immense sadness – I felt damaged and broken before I began and even more so when I finished reading the book. I feel too old and too dirty to take in such high morals and high standards as described by the author into my heart when I know very well that real life is nothing like that. That people do wrong and people refuse to confess a fault, and life goes on regardless. And nothing as simple as a kiss.

There is nothing much more I could say really, except that my conviction to live a moral life, an honest and simple life, is stronger than ever these days. Funny how reading about lives like that is a bit of a struggle.