Month: May 2017

when wishes do come true

For the last 12 months that I have had a secret wish. It all started when Amazon suggested two books that it deemed would be a good match for my reading tastes. After checking both out, I was very pleasantly surprised that, for once, Amazon seemed to have got it right. I bought the two books. Upon close inspection, they seemed to be very much my thing, so I sort of by-passed all the other poor books I already had awaiting for their turn to be appreciated, and gingerly added those two to the top of the pile. As if, maybe, none of the others would notice. These two books were Paul Pen’s The Light of the Fireflies, and Laline Paull’s The Bees. I had never heard of either author, truth be told, but then again I have to confess that until three years ago I had never heard of most of the authors making good literature today, so busy and one-track minded I had been with my professional subject area. It was no problem, …

method in my TBR madness… maybe

I received a Goodreads email notification today that made me stop and look twice. It came from someone with a name I did not immediately recognise, and mentioned a certain TV Celebrity Couple’s reading group. I hovered the cursor over it and read carefully. Once. Twice. Did I know anyone with that handle? Maybe. I would not pretend to know the names of all my social contacts. And then there was the TVCC thing. Mystery. OK, I thought to myself. Let’s see what this is. An invitation to join the reading club. Mmm. Well… Structured social interaction. Er… Heck. As a matter of fact, that might be exactly what I need right now. Why do I automatically interpose a battalion of questions…? Of reasons? Excuses? Why wouldn’t I join a reading group, and actually participate, instead of all that always-in-the-background, almost voyeuristic thing I end up doing because I do not have the — whatever it is I don’t have to actually engage with a group? Of course, it didn’t help all my usual excuses …

‘Always Expect The Unexpected’

In the midst of all the upheaval in my life lately, I’ve been thinking of my Nan Marquinhas and my Great-Aunt Alice, and their seemingly incongruous ways, more often than usual. They were a steadying presence in my early childhood, and as I grew up I found them always full of a philosophy of life that felt natural and intuitive, but which often seemed to jar with the world around us. At least, they seemed to jar with the world as I was being allowed to perceive and learn in the city, where everything was new, glittering, fast — and passing me by. Life was changing in the village too, and though there I was far less sheltered than in the city, things somehow seemed more linear, and Great-Aunt’s and Nan’s pronunciations didn’t seen so out of place somehow. Maybe it’s just that city life appeared so glamorous and safe, so new and benign… I wonder how I could be so drawn to the unknown: was it because it was the world my parents inhabited? “Always …