Drood for the Road

Had a couple of days in Milan during the half-term (well, two half-days and one full day, half of which we spent up at Lake Maggiore) which was lovely. I needn't have worried that there wasn't enough to keep us occupied - we definitely intend to return and spend some more time exploring both the city and the nearby Lakes.

In the end I didn't take Wolf Hall with me, the reason being that I came across a book by Dan Simmons called Drood that really took my fancy. I was in Waterstones with the Bright-Eyed Boy who was trying to remember what book it was that he wanted to take away with him (Monster Republic by Ben Horton - he could remember the cover picture only!) when I went for a browse in the 'grown-ups' section. Simmons is better known as a sci-fi writer, not a genre that I am particularly keen on with the exception of his book Ilium which I absolutely loved. I tried to read the sequel Olympos, but..well..meh!...didn't find it that enthralling. But the blurb caught my eye, and a quick riffle through the pages to check out the writing-quality convinced me that THIS was the holiday book to take. It's a good thick book too, so no chance that it'd be devoured before the plane touched down again in England. And it IS very good, dealing with the fraught relationship between the narrator (Wilkie Collins, author of The Woman in White, The Moonstone int.al.) and a rather manic Charles Dickens. I'm not sure how much is based on real events (was he really involved in a rail disaster? I should Google it I suppose..), but the descriptions of the slums and the opium dens of Victorian London are shudderingly real. The story deals essentially with the disparity between Dickens public persona as jovial paterfamilias and well-loved author, and his self-centred private obsessions including one quest to trace a mysterious figure that he believes has a supernatural hold over him since the train accident. It's quite gripping thus far.

The Husband, suspecting that the Irresistable Inheritance of Wilberforce describes a depressingly downward trajectory looked well-pleased when I presented him with Lawrence Dallaglio's autobiography It's All in the Blood. The Husband likes to read about excellence in any field - I guess he finds it inspiring - but it really makes him wish he had been able to take part in sport at a top level. So far he has read and thoroughly enjoyed Lance Armstrong and Steve Redgrave's autobiogs. I though they came across as knobs, but as the Husband says, they have to be to get as far as they have.....!

Wolf at the Door

Robertson's A Greek Grammar of the New Testament in the Light of Historical Research arrived from AbeBooks and I am absolutely delighted with it! In my opinion, the Victorian/Edwardian Grammarians/Exegetes still stand head-and-shoulders above their modern equivalents and no amount of clever linguistic shenanigans or novel exegesis will ever replace the awesome scholarship of the likes of Farar, Lightfoot, Swete and their ilk.
Other books for the doctoral studies come in on a regular basis and, to be quite honest, they are pretty dull fare that are easier to buy than wait my turn for at the library. Henceforth, I shan't necessarily mention them by name unless they are particularly interesting. I can always sell them later, I suppose.

I did buy a second-hand Penguin Classics copy of Petronius' Satyricon through Amazon, which I had been intending to do for some time, having read and enjoyed The Golden Ass by Apuleius some time back. In the main I'm not big on Latin literature (finding it pretty turgid fare) but for the Roman 'novel', I make an exception. I may take it with me to Milan. Or I may not. Regular readers will already know that I am extremely picky about what reading matter I take abroad with me, demanding works which are simultaneously well-written, diverting, absorbing, but not too heavy-going. I have identified a new Alexander McCall Smith - Corduroy Mansions (or some such) in Waterstones, but I am actually reading Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall, which kept me captivated on my train journey down to uni. for my PhD 'upgrade' panel. She is an excellent writer (although didn't like her Beyond Black much), clever enough to keep me intrigued, but accessible enough for the plot to advance at a satisfying pace. I am simultaneously working through a generic sort of book that gives etymologies of words that have made it into the English language, but only v-e-r-y slowly as after a while one stops caring about individual word histories. The pile of unfinished stuff at the side of the bed grows ever-bigger, but I've stopped feeling quite so guilty about it as I used too. One book I did finish was Neil Gaiman's American Gods, but it doesn't get onto my list of great novels (I seem to be in a minority here). I just felt that amongst the verbosity and meandering digressions was a much leaner, better book, waiting to get out. Sadly, it didn't. And I couldn't have cared less about the main character 'Shadow' either, which didn't help. Daughter #3 was working her way through Marina Lewycka's Short History of Tractors in Ukranian. Having received that author's Two Caravans for her birthday, she immediately started to read that, abandoning SHoTiU! Tut! The youth of today!

Springing into Action

I can't believe how long it's been since my last post, but I have been really busy trying (quite successfully) to progress the chapters on my thesis. I shall therefore try to catch up with a pretty condensed account of my recent book buying, which as usual sees a two-way split between the academic and the recreational.

On the academic front, the main purchases have been the Dictionary of Christian Biography (tells you who's who and why they're important: Oxfam bargain), Hebrew Thought Compared with Greek (Thorleif Boman), Karl Donfried The Romans Debate, Darkness Spoken: the collected poems of Ingeborg Bachmann (for my German reading Skills course) and a second-hand set of the New International Dictionary of New Testament Theology [ed. Colin Brown], This last has a bit of a tale to it: I discovered two volumes of it in the Oxfam book shop and thought to myself that they were a real bargain. It was only when I got home that I realised (curses!) that instead of the two volumes covering the entire alphabet, the second volume only went from 'g' to 'pre'. There was a third that I didn't have! Now, I absolutely hate not having complete sets (where there ought to be a set), so that put me in a bit of a quandary....where was the third and last book? Another trip back to the shop another day revealed that the remaining volume hadn't actually been left on the (or, indeed, any) shelf, so I went online and managed to source a copy from AbeBooks, which wasn't so much of a bargain, but meant that I now had the full complement. When it arrived it was very firmly packaged with parcel tape in layers of bubble wrap, paper and a cut up Kelloggs Cornflakes box! It was a bit damp and musty, so it's currently drying slowly in the living room under its companion volumes. I remember what happened to John Chrysostom's Homilies!!!

My recreational reading hasn't been anything like so prolific: I abandoned This Thing of Darkness as a bit too......nautical. Thereafter I struggled to find anything that took my fancy, settling mainly for newspapers and copies of the Times Higher Education magazine. Travels with Herodotus was fairly interesting, but at the same time slightly disappointing. It served to reawaken my interest in The Histories (of which I subsequently re-read a few chapters), and had some wonderful descriptions that caught my fancy (Algiers sounds well worth a visit), but overall it seemed to be very much the twilight writings of an old man (in fact is was his last book). The passages on what were his current postings came across as less real than his interaction with Herodotus, which I suppose was the point of the book: men and situations don't change much over the centuries.

Things really looked up when I availed myself of the buy-one-get-one-free offer in W H Smith and got Sarah Walter's The Little Stranger and A.S.Byatt's The Childrens' Book. I initially started reading the latter, but it seemed a bit cosy and twee (it may improve/get darker as it progresses) and moved onto the former, which proved a terrifically good and gripping psychological thriller. Listed for the Man Booker prize (pipped by Hilary Mantel's Wolf Hall, I believe, which I also want to read), the tension slowly builds and this contrasts with the narrator's steady, prosaic retelling of the events at the ramshackle country estate 'Hundreds'. It was one of those books where, when you get to the end, you think 'hang on a minute' and have to look back to see if what you thought might have happened, did. Sha'n't spoil for you! Go read!!!