Libraries, Books, Philosophy and Paul

Now that the new academic term has started, I'm going to avail myself not only of my current uni library, but also the ones belonging to my old alma mater. I think I'm correct in thinking that £50 will get me a post-grad library card with borrowing rights. The main library is a circular Art Deco beauty that just breathes learning and knowledge. I used to really enjoy squirrelling around in its subterranean depths, enjoying the smell of the waxed parquet and old books. I intend to get myself over there soon and sign up. It'd be good to open up old channels of communication again with my old department too.
Books have been coming through the letter box at a very satisfying rate, save for yesterday when I was down on campus and one was returned to the post depot from whence I had to retrieve it today. I though I'd better do as there is a postal strike threatening....oh no!
I finished Alexander McCall Smith's The Sunday Philosopy Club, and felt curiously vindicated concerning my original judgement of it. Unsatisfying, and definitely not as good as its sequels. Still, it was only £1 from the Autism Charity Shop. I've been reading Michael Gorman's Reading Paul and find it a clear and insightful introduction to the Pauline corpus, although a bit too devotional for my liking. I have read so much about Paul that I have the curious feeling that I actually know him, like he is some sort of tetchy uncle that I haven't seen for a while and who I wouldn't necessarily go out of my way too visit. I think he would be far too much like hard work, picking arguments, generally being pedantic, grumpy, nosy, self-pitying, but the kind of chap that would wordlessly press a twenty-pound note into your hand as you left, noting with surprise that his eyes look moist. I've never quite got over the extraordinary feeling that I got when I was translating 1Corinthians in the autumn dusk a few years ago: I'd got to the last verse, verse 16 and was whizzing through the last section when I became convinced that he was personally addressing me, actually speaking to me through the epistle. Amazing, and not a little spooky. One book that I picked up recently and am keen to crack on with is Daniel Everett's Don't Sleep, There Are Snakes, a missionary - and linguist's tale of life amongst the Amazonian Pirahas tribe. His original intention to 'convert' (what a horrible notion!) them is quickly sidelined as he discovers them to be the happiest of people, with absolutely no need to be 'saved' (I wonder what his superiors made of that!). It was the linguistic side of the book that appealed to me most (naturally) as his discoveries concerning the Piraha's language 'run counter to prevailing linguistic orthodoxy'. John Searle rates it highly, so I'm guessing that it is anti-Chomksyian in its thinking. Don't get me started....transformational grammar v behaviourism.....hmmmm.

A New Term, A New Pile of Books......

I'm in a bit of a book frenzy at the moment - courtesy of a small unexpected pension lump-sum bonus. It started off respectably enough: a second-hand copy of Alexander McCall Smith's The Sunday Philosophy Club (which, on first reading a couple of years ago, I had hated enough to leave it behind in the holiday apartment - I had failed to 'get' its subtle observation). It is pure comfort reading, gentle, wryly amusing and deep enough to provide some food for thought. I also bought the husband another Neil Gaiman (Smoke and Mirrors), as he'd finished Neverwhere which he enjoyed immensely. Then my fiscal prudence specs slipped somewhat: my response to needing to study is generally to buy more books, as if the mere act of buying them was equivalent to absorbing the knowledge therein (I actually realise that this is not true....). I kind of justified the expense by reasoning that the expenditure was in fact a very small proportion of my forthcoming 'stipend' (what a lovely old-fashioned word!) and that they might contain some insightful nugget that would illuminate my whole PhD. The lists comprises of Coles & Dodd's Reading German (for my upcoming German language-reading course in October), Reading Paul by Michael Gorman, The Deliverance of God: An Apocalyptic Re-Reading of Justification in Paul by Douglas Campbell and The Philosopher's Toolkit: A Compendium of Philosophical Concepts and Methods by Julian Baggini and Peter Fosl. Quite a list to get through. Quite a heap on the bedroom floor! Oh, and a second-hand copy of Your PhD Companion by Dr Stephen Marshall and Dr Nick Green from the Oxfam bookshop, which I read practically all the way through in Starbucks this afternoon.

A Taste of Things to Come?

Here's a rather worrying thing: Daughter #3 has an accumulation of unwanted books, accrued over the past couple of years of voracious book-reading. They've been to the friends that want to borrow them and, duly returned, are cluttering her bookshelves and bedroom floor. She's largely outgrown that particular genre (magic, mystery, alternative worlds, para-history) and thus is unlikely to read them again. What to do with them? The first thought was to give them to charity, but then I had the idea that the library could probably use them. In the past I've had books that have come up on renewal as 'donations' and I noticed the other day that the library shelves - especially in the childrens' section was a bit sparse. And what better way to recirculate old books? Lots of people could benefit if they were in the system. So I bagged them up and took them to the local branch where I was told that they 'no longer accept donations' as the process of registering them was too difficult. What? Ease of process takes precedence over the acquisition of books? In a library of all things? They'd rather turn down 20 free books (all fairly hefty tomes, in good condition, costing on average £6.99 each new = around £140) than put up with a little inconvenience??!! The world's gone mad! The cart is being put before the horse, surely. I am alarmed for the future and not a little despondent.
The Heart Foundation, however, seemed a little more grateful: they accepted the books with alacrity and a smile. I hope they make a few quid from them.

Oratio Obliqua

Am scratching about for something interesting to take my fancy. I finished Robin Wasserman's Skinned, and although it was tolerably good, it didn't really live up to the promise of the initial few chapters. The characters' behaviour became increasingly stereotypical, and the excesses of angst betrayed its teen-fiction standing. My twelve-year old daughter liked it, though whether well enough to purchase the upcoming sequel remains to be seen.

Daughter #2, ransacking the Sunday car-boot-sale stalls, happened upon a 2-volume edition of F.W.Farrar's The Life and Work of St Paul (1879), which she bought for a mere £3. I was delighted, as I am a fan of his quasi-whimsical, late-Victorian (but very scholarly and insightful), immensely readable ponderings. It was in fairly good condition, but sadly someone had seen fit to plunder it for its coloured maps. Shame, but the prose is as enthralling as ever, if somewhat fanciful.

'It is clear, from the education provided for Paul by his parents, that they could little indeed have conjectured how absolutely their son would be reduced to depend on a toil so miserable and so unremunerative. But though we see how much he felt the burden of the wretched labour....while he plaited the black, strong-scented goat's hair, he might be soaring in thought to the inmost heaven, or holding high converse with Apollos or Aquila, with Luke or Timothy, on the loftiest themes which can engage the mind of man.'

This week she arrived home with two rather attractive 1895 volumes of Demosthenes Orations - the orators are not really currently my cup of tea, but there's no denying the shabby handsomeness of the books (although, sadly, Volume 1 is missing). The Husband is still engrossed in Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere: it's lasted him for quite some time, having started it on the outward plane journey of our holiday some 3 weeks ago. For someone who spent many a year NOT reading, he's certainly getting some good stuff under his belt now, although he does tend to get what I borrow/buy for him (I'm his personal book-shopper) so it's not really a balanced reading programme at all. I noted not long ago that the books I choose for him tend to be a bit predictable - all in the same vein: NG's Anansi Boys, American Purgatorio by John Haskell, Dogwalking by Arthur Bradford, You Shall know Our Velocity by Dave Eggars, Steven Sherrill's The Minotaur Takes a Cigarette Break, Chuck Palahniuk's Fight Club.....all a bit weird and with a hint of sadness/madness. We were both, however, reduced to wonder by the amazing tales in David Eagleman's Sum: 40 Tales from the Afterlife.

Perhaps it's time to diversify more....

Holidays and Beyond

Thoroughly enjoyed my two holiday books (The Unbearable Lightness of Scones and PopCo), managing to polish off the former in just under two days, the latter lasting until half-way through the four-hour flight delay on the return journey. Alexander McCall Smith's latest volume in the 44 Scotland Street series was the familiar comfort-reading that I'd both hoped for and expected. Nothing nasty, with enough amusing insights to raise the odd internal chuckle. Having fairly recently read Scarlett Thomas's The End of Mr Y I had an idea what was in store for me and was not disappointed. PopCo's heroine Alice Butler is far more sympathetic than her angst-ridden self-hating Ariel Manto. The plot is not what you'd call tight, but combined with the various digressions on specialist subjects (maths, cryptography. marketing techniques), it is absorbing enough to keep the pages turning. Characterisation is slight, with many of the supporting roles appearing as mere ciphers (haha! in a book on cryptanalysis! Geddit?) - but that's fine: I wasn't expecting Flaubert. It was fine holiday fare, in the same league as The Gargoyle. Better than The Raw Shark Texts, not as good as Fight Club.

Having finished PopCo before our flight took off I was desperate for something else to read and picked up Robin Wasserman's Skinned, which daughter #3 (12 years old) had completed a few days ago. It was immediately gripping, a tale set in a dystopian future featuring a girl hideously injured in a car accident (shades of The Gargoyle again!). The medical expertise is available (largely courtesy of her parents' vast wealth) to have her essential self 'downloaded' from her broken body into a replica mechanoid, perfect in every way except that it is not 100% lifelike. It will keep her 'alive' indefinitely as long as she follows the care protocols. And this is the interesting bit: is she 'alive'? What does 'alive' mean? What does a person consist of? Are they the sum of their bodies and their minds, or is it the mind alone that counts? We are asked to consider various ethical and moral dilemmas through Lia's angry confrontation with her old life, her friends, her boyfriend and society's reactions. It is very thought provoking stuff, deeply philosophical and gripping. I'm rather impressed.

Actually, I'm procrastinating.......various scholarly tomes are jostling for attention but, hey, I'm still in holiday mood!