My side of the bed.
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Bedside table
and other furniture |
No, not gin. Yes, I should've moved the hairdryer.
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On my bedside table, I have, from the bottom up:
Katherine Mansfield Collected Short Stories, which is a permanent feature.
Paul Auster - can't remember the title. Moon something, and I've started it and stopped, I think. As I did with Leviathan. But I love his earlier work and Oracle Night was wonderful. I like both his wives' work too.
Lydia Davis (Paul's ex wife) Short Stories. A genius and similar in style to Siri Hustvedt, Paul's current wife. I'm sorry, but that's my opinion. You are all marvellous. (But Lydia is the best.)
Jeanette Winterson's Art & Lies.
Joseph O'Connor's something about the sea. The first few pages have left me cold but I'm sure it'll fab on the night.
The Times Fiendish Sudoku - Just love fiendish and superfiendish sudoku but try to limit this to holiday activity, since I am already a slave to Spider Solitaire which I unpick, over and over, until I solve the puzzle. This can take days.
Upton Sinclair and Cormac McCarthy are also there. These are on loan from a friend (tall man who reads women too). He likes American Gothic literature. He likes Carson McCullers. As do I. I recently loaned him Roth's Portnoy's Complaint which he hated and I loved. I loaned his wife, my beloved pal Colette, The Loony Bin by Kate Millett, which is the only book I've read twice. Colette hated it.
Adam Thirlwell - haven't opened it yet.
W H Auden collected poems - I like this for train journeys. I am obsessed with Auden's song 'O tell me the truth about love' with Britten's music. Like Britten a lot. There is one line in particular in the song which I just can't get over: 'Is it usually sick on a swing?' I always laugh when I hear it. Extra funny in soprano.
Will Self's The Quantity Theory of Insanity. More genius.
Janet Frame's short stories. I read these aloud with my partner. Well, one of us reads, the other listens. Janet Frame is perfect for that. We're taking her to Italy.
I've got an Annie Proulx collection there too but it shouldn't be. I'm not sure why I think that. Maybe because I'm not planning on reading it any time soon. But I love Annie Proulx. Accordian Crimes is in my top five favourite books.
On my holiday shelf, Siri Hustvedt's Living Thinking Looking, Jonathan Franzen's How to be Alone (oh no! my last JF), Patrick DeWitt's Ablutions (just adored The Sisters Brothers).
On my study desk, I have Marcel Proust's In Search of Lost Time. I used to say this (a lot) as a child, from the Monty Python Fish Licence sketch: So if you're calling the author of A La Recherche du Temps Perdus a loony, I shall have to ask you to step outside. I've read that it's impossible to translate this book (but they always say that, don't they and I guess it's always true), so I considered getting it in French. I've only read Harry Potter (gave up early into the third book) and Bridget Jones in French, so Proust was a bit daunting and I chickened out. To make up for it, I got Nathalie Sarraute's Enfance in French. I've had a peep and this may take a while, but a worthwhile.
On the arm of my end of the sofa (well, it's really my entire sofa but I let my son perch on the other end to eat his tea) is something by Nicola Barker.
Also in the middle of The Lives and Loves of Lina Prokofiev. I faltered when I read how anti-semitic Lina was. I shouldn't have, of course. I don't approve of that: avoiding Mad Men because they are so prejudiced about everyone but themselves. That's how things were. Let's have a look at that.
My partner has nicked my Amy Hempel, so it has hopped over to the other bedside (messier there) but we both agree, this writer is a wonder.
I bought Donna Tartt's much awaited The Goldfinch as a present, so feel I can't really read it first; a source of irritation. And that was back at Christmas! It stands knowingly in the bookcase. The restraint I show...
Open at my bedside today is Roger Longrigg's Switchboard; just begun. Wittiest fiction I've read (since my own...) in a good while. Here is an author who is writing for his readers' pleasure, as well as his own. Call me old fashioned but I really need that right now. Also bought some Barbara Pymm, to continue with the 50s.
And just skulking around: Beckett novels - 'Molloy', 'Malone Dies', 'The Unnamable' (unopened, except to check if unnamable was a typo, as if Beckett would ever accept a typo!) and Beckett's Complete Dramatic Works. Below is Quad, for 4 cowled players (some ballet training desirable) each walking with a different percussion instrument.
Katherine Mansfield Collected Short Stories, which is a permanent feature.
Paul Auster - can't remember the title. Moon something, and I've started it and stopped, I think. As I did with Leviathan. But I love his earlier work and Oracle Night was wonderful. I like both his wives' work too.
Lydia Davis (Paul's ex wife) Short Stories. A genius and similar in style to Siri Hustvedt, Paul's current wife. I'm sorry, but that's my opinion. You are all marvellous. (But Lydia is the best.)
Jeanette Winterson's Art & Lies.
Joseph O'Connor's something about the sea. The first few pages have left me cold but I'm sure it'll fab on the night.
The Times Fiendish Sudoku - Just love fiendish and superfiendish sudoku but try to limit this to holiday activity, since I am already a slave to Spider Solitaire which I unpick, over and over, until I solve the puzzle. This can take days.
Upton Sinclair and Cormac McCarthy are also there. These are on loan from a friend (tall man who reads women too). He likes American Gothic literature. He likes Carson McCullers. As do I. I recently loaned him Roth's Portnoy's Complaint which he hated and I loved. I loaned his wife, my beloved pal Colette, The Loony Bin by Kate Millett, which is the only book I've read twice. Colette hated it.
Adam Thirlwell - haven't opened it yet.
W H Auden collected poems - I like this for train journeys. I am obsessed with Auden's song 'O tell me the truth about love' with Britten's music. Like Britten a lot. There is one line in particular in the song which I just can't get over: 'Is it usually sick on a swing?' I always laugh when I hear it. Extra funny in soprano.
Will Self's The Quantity Theory of Insanity. More genius.
Janet Frame's short stories. I read these aloud with my partner. Well, one of us reads, the other listens. Janet Frame is perfect for that. We're taking her to Italy.
I've got an Annie Proulx collection there too but it shouldn't be. I'm not sure why I think that. Maybe because I'm not planning on reading it any time soon. But I love Annie Proulx. Accordian Crimes is in my top five favourite books.
On my holiday shelf, Siri Hustvedt's Living Thinking Looking, Jonathan Franzen's How to be Alone (oh no! my last JF), Patrick DeWitt's Ablutions (just adored The Sisters Brothers).
On my study desk, I have Marcel Proust's In Search of Lost Time. I used to say this (a lot) as a child, from the Monty Python Fish Licence sketch: So if you're calling the author of A La Recherche du Temps Perdus a loony, I shall have to ask you to step outside. I've read that it's impossible to translate this book (but they always say that, don't they and I guess it's always true), so I considered getting it in French. I've only read Harry Potter (gave up early into the third book) and Bridget Jones in French, so Proust was a bit daunting and I chickened out. To make up for it, I got Nathalie Sarraute's Enfance in French. I've had a peep and this may take a while, but a worthwhile.
On the arm of my end of the sofa (well, it's really my entire sofa but I let my son perch on the other end to eat his tea) is something by Nicola Barker.
Also in the middle of The Lives and Loves of Lina Prokofiev. I faltered when I read how anti-semitic Lina was. I shouldn't have, of course. I don't approve of that: avoiding Mad Men because they are so prejudiced about everyone but themselves. That's how things were. Let's have a look at that.
My partner has nicked my Amy Hempel, so it has hopped over to the other bedside (messier there) but we both agree, this writer is a wonder.
I bought Donna Tartt's much awaited The Goldfinch as a present, so feel I can't really read it first; a source of irritation. And that was back at Christmas! It stands knowingly in the bookcase. The restraint I show...
Open at my bedside today is Roger Longrigg's Switchboard; just begun. Wittiest fiction I've read (since my own...) in a good while. Here is an author who is writing for his readers' pleasure, as well as his own. Call me old fashioned but I really need that right now. Also bought some Barbara Pymm, to continue with the 50s.
And just skulking around: Beckett novels - 'Molloy', 'Malone Dies', 'The Unnamable' (unopened, except to check if unnamable was a typo, as if Beckett would ever accept a typo!) and Beckett's Complete Dramatic Works. Below is Quad, for 4 cowled players (some ballet training desirable) each walking with a different percussion instrument.
Something to try with friends on a rainy afternoon.
