Force of Habit

I've been reading Simone de Beauvoir's Force of Circumstance and, to tell the truth, I'm finding this volume of her autobiography slightly dull. Starting at the end of the war, it concentrates on the period of her literary heyday, her strange relationship with Sartre and her many political and social connections. And I think this last is the main problem: I've never heard of most of them, but she takes it as given that these faceless names mean something to the reader. There's also a lack of personal reflection (at least as far as I've read) that made the previous two volumes interesting. I don't care who she knew - I want to know what she thought. As it is, it reads a bit like a meeting schedule. It may improve, but it had better do so pretty damn soon!

I've also been trying to bone up on the basics of linguistics, and to that end purchased a Hodder 'Teach Yourself' linguistics book. It is utterly fascinating -no, it's better than that. If I was going to do another degree, this is the subject that I'd study. The book is by Jean Aitchison, although I didn't realise this until just now, when I looked for the author's name (not very prominent). This is the linguist recommended to me by my doctoral supervisor as being clear and accessible - and I have to agree. It's rivetting stuff.

Before long I'm going to have to sort out a 'holiday book' again. As I'm anticipating doing a lot of wine-soaked lazing about in the sun, I want something not too heavy, amusing but well written with enough pages to keep me going throughout the whole week. If I get the selection wrong, I stamp my tiny foot, pout and sulk, so I had better start looking soon! I must also get over the temptation to take anything scholarly with me: I'm pretty good at pretending to read the heavy stuff, i.e. moving my eyes over the page at a convincing rate, but actually thinking about something entirely different (and usually banale). Usually food.

Being and Time and....Nothing(ness)!

I've just finished - and thoroughly enjoyed - The Prime of Life and hope to start on Force of Circumstance later this evening. De Beauvoir writes vividly of occupied Paris and the efforts that she and her comrades made to make their lives tolerable, if not enjoyable during the most oppressive times and her enjoyment of cafe life is something with which I can identify most enthusiastically! I could have kicked myself for my procrastination the other day: whilst browsing in the Oxfam bookshop I found a copy of Heidegger's Being and Time for £4.99 and a commentary on it for a further £3.99. I hummed and ha'd about buying it (he's a bit earlier than my usual existential interests, although seminal) and eventually put it back on the shelf. Sometime during the ensuing hours, I conceived a real desire to buy it, so having delivered daughter no.3 to her rowing practice the following day, I scuttled back to the shop to purchase it. Only someone else had bought it in the interim. Dammit! I am so annoyed! I wonder if it was the same freak that bought the Gothic grammar a few months back? Do I have a doppelganger? I think, dear reader, that I do!

Force Majeure

A 'pre-owned' copy of Force of Circumstance - the third volume of Simone de Beauvoir's autobiography - arrived today (a genuine 70's Penguin, but sadly without a Matisse blue-figure cover illustration). I was severely tempted to start reading it at once, but as I am approximately one third of the way through a long-intended re-read of her Prime of Life (volume 2), I restrained myself. I am throroughly enjoying the latter, especially as the last book I read on de Beauvoir was Deirdre Bair's less than flattering biography of her. There is no doubt that de Beauvoir glossed over much of her past, particularly her manipulative relationships with her pupils and her over-dependency on the good opinion of the toad-like Sartre. Still, I find her apparent ability to both enjoy and analyse her experiences (the ones she lets us in on) most captivating.
It came to mind that I had bought my first copy of her Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter whilst staying with my aunt and uncle in Devon. I'd been sent down there to give my long-suffering parents a break from my teenage stubborness and rebellion. I clearly remember the sense of freedom I felt as my (very tolerant) relatives let me do more-or-less as I wanted or gently steered me to places like Buckfast Abbey and Exeter. I think I'd taken to wearing some bizarre floor-length outfits and affected a world weary air of langour. O how bohemian I felt! Suffice to say I was not improved by my sojourn and returned just as insufferable - if not distinctly worse - having found a similarly headstrong role-model and a taste for Disque Bleu!

Philosophy and Theology

Am thoroughly enjoying a re-read of Simone de Beauvoir's The Prime of Life in preparation for the arrival of her Force of Circumstance (due to plop through the letterbox any day soon). Takes me back a bit and fills me with regret that I didn't actually manage to have a coffee in 'Les Deux Magots' when last in Paris (the troops were on the verge of mutiny). An impulse buy recently was a Norton Critical Edition of The Writings of St Paul (eds. Wayne Meeks & John Fitzgerald), sourced from the internet at an amazing £8.98 (inc. p&p)! There's nearly 700 hundred pages of scholarship and reception ranging from Irenaeus to Luther to Nietzsche to Barth. Plus a comprehensive bibliography. Fantastic value......that's my 'serious' book for the summer. I did see it recommended on someone's blog, but can't for the life of me think where. Apologies - will post an acknowledgement if I re-find it*.

It was in Theophrastus' blog What I Learned from Aristotle
link:http://whatilearnedfromaristotle.blogspot.com/search?q=the+writings+of+st+paul

Force of Circumstance

One of the things that I regret on a regular basis is getting rid of books. Sometimes this has been forced upon me by the break up of circumstances (it's usually better to run for your life than ponder what books to take with you) or by the occasional misplaced desire to declutter, streamline, minimise, whatever. I think I'm a bit wiser now.....I never get rid of books entirely, the extended personal loan is a favourite strategy of mine. Some long-gone books continue to haunt me by their absence: a well-thumbed childhood copy of The Wind in the Willows, a lavishly illustrated volume of Tutankhamun's treasure, a Penguin set of Simone de Beauvoir's autobiography with matching Matisse blue figure covers. I managed to replace three of the latter (two sadly with different cover photos). Why did I ever get rid of them in the first place? A university friend of mine did much the same thing, dumping all her medieval literature after the end of her course, only to bitterly regret it later. I guess some books need time and distance to truly appreciate them. Anyway, I intend eventually to replace the non-Matisse ones, thus recreating my teenage reading experience. I have however, just ordered the third volume 'Force of Circumstance' from an Amazon subsidiary - for 44p! Funnily enough, I'm not entirely sure that I ever possessed this one in the first place, which seems a bit of an omission...but I can't recall anything about her in the mid-forties to mid-fifties. Oh well....we'll see....

Life, and What Comes After It.

David Eagleman's Sum: Forty Tales from the Afterlife duly arrived and I have been reading the odd one or two at bedtime every night. They are exquisite gems of writing, Borgesian - yes - but also remind me of Italo Calvino's Invisible Cities, although Eagleman's prose is leaner, more haiku-like. They are ingenious too, with breath-taking ideas wrapped in both wit and poignancy. Actually , I have had to hold myself back....it would be very easy to indiscriminately bolt through them in one go and fail to savour their subtle individual flavours, which would do the tales a grave disservice.

I've also just read the latest in Diana Athill's biography Somewhere Near the End. It is a slim volume and I managed to read it piecemeal in about a day. Her writing is, as one would expect from a literary grande dame, elegant and precise. Cool, even cold on occasion. I'm not sure whether she has deliberately taken the decision not to reveal her emotions concerning what would be counted by most as life-changing /traumatic events, or if she is very much of the 'stiff-upper-lip-mustn't-grumble brigade' (very possible, given her age), or if she is just completely lacking in empathy and compassion except in the most perfunctory way. I don't get the impression that she particularly cared about her family, friends or companions except in wishing to be seen to do approximately the right thing. As for the families of the married men that she had affairs with....there seems to have been an absolute absence of comprehension or interest in anything other than her own gratification and amusement. It's a pity, because I hoped that this would be a warmer book, filled with wisdom and insight garnered over 9 decades, rather than an apparently chilly dismissal of people and opinions other than her own. In a strange way, I found it reminiscent of Simone de Beauvoir's autobiographical writings, which I have enjoyed immensely since I first read her at the tender and impressionable age of seventeen. She was certainly a cold and calculating fish, but possessed of an intellectual vigour (and rigour) that is missing in Athill. I must start reading de Beauvoir again soon.