Monday 27 April 2015

Why Read?

'I have never read a whole book in all my life.'

I recently overheard someone confessing to that.  We are all different (thank goodness), but what a loss it would be never to have read even one book from cover to cover.

To read is to lose oneself in another world.  To sink between the covers, to envelope oneself in layer upon layer of finely crafted phrases.  Like Wild Swimming, you launch yourself into unknown waters and swim, letting the words wash over you.  Letting the language nibble at your toes, immersing yourself in someone else's imagination.  With some books, it is enough to float along the surface for ages, buoyed up by the temperature of the writing.  It may be cool enough to prick at your skin or it may be warmed by the sun to soothe and smooth.  With some books, however, you need to dive beneath the surface, head first then, kicking deeper, feel the weight of the developing story.  You need to explore the characters' depths, coming up for air now and then to contemplate the emerging storyline and see how far you have travelled.

To read is to leave your current environment behind completely, if only for a while.  Your book is your magic carpet.  It can spirit you away to foreign lands, introducing you to new characters.  You can experience the exotic, the dangerous, the seductive, without leaving your comfort zone.  You can wrap yourself in the improbable, even the impossible.  You can have your intellect, your beliefs and your imagination challenged.

The first words can ease you into the beginning of the story or they can catapult you right into the middle of the narrative.  Your author can take you by the hand and accompany you on the journey or he/she can push you into the darkness and seemingly abandon you in the midst of words strung together to excite and charm you.

Your feet can be on the floor of a packed London Underground carriage, whilst your head is roaming the Namib desert.  Maybe your body is curled up safely on your sofa, whilst your mind has been released into the deserted alleyways of Victorian London at midnight, your ears straining to hear the sound of pursuing footsteps.  If you are trapped in a prison cell, a book can transport you through the grey walls and deposit you on the shores of a lake in Northern Canada, where you can feel free.  Maybe you are confined to a hospital bed.  Allow yourself to be ensconced in words which have the power to heal your soul and restore your body.

I was witness to another conversation, wherein a father was bemoaning the type of books his young son was reading.  They were not, in his view, of good enough quality.

'Well,' observed the boy's mother.  'At least, he's reading.'

I couldn't agree more.

Monday 20 April 2015

Blogless



There are days, like today, when there is nothing there at all. 

This is what it would have been like for Lucy, if, pushing through the moth-ball scented fur coats, she found only the wooden back of the wardrobe.

This is how it would have been for Cinderella, if the pumpkin stayed vegetable and the mice stayed rodent.

This is how it would have been if Alice had not fallen down the rabbit hole, or if Harry had stayed in the cupboard under the stairs. 

If Aladdin rubbed the lamp, and it just got shinier, he would have felt like this. Domestically satisfied, possibly, at a job done efficiently. But imaginatively, an empty vessel.

Washing done, ironing done, spellings tested, reading books laboured over. Words – unwritten. Not just unwritten – unthought, undreamt, unscribbled on a receipt in the bottom of my bag, un-tapped into my smartphone. 

There are plenty of words, washing around my head like socks in the suds, but they are the wrong kind of words. They are lists, and more lists, “must-do’s” and “mustn’t forgets”, reproaches and regrets.  These bullies push out the others - the shyer, more tentative words. They squash them, leave them crushed flat, wrung out by the unstoppable slosh and spin of Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday…. you get the idea. 

Those delicate, fragile words, spun from the gossamer-light, extravagant stuff of wonder, play, ponder and idleness cannot survive such rough treatment. They are holiday words, Sunday words, free-time, free-head words. There is no room for them here. 

So, I am forced to write about writing nothing, just so I am writing something. 

I feel better already.

Sunday 12 April 2015

Kings of the World

 
 
Eleven pairs of boots dangling down,
A well-deserved lunch break and rest,
Far above the city’s rooftops,
We sit and survey our handiwork.

A drink and a joke and a smoke,
Companionable chat and mutual respect,
The honest dignity of a hard day’s work,
And a view not many have seen.

Up here we feel like the kings of the world,
Building the future but alive in the present,
Our skyscraper will join many others,
But for us it will always stand proud.

We were born to move and create with our hands,
And we do so six days a week,
Our limbs may ache with exhaustion,
But our faces reveal a proud satisfaction.

Eleven pair of boots dangling down,
Long since lost, rotted and vanished,
But our fingers will linger on those bricks forever,
And our spirits still soar above the New York skyline.


This poem was inspired by the famous black and white photo 'Lunch atop a Skyscraper' (1932).



 

Monday 6 April 2015

To Kiss or Not to Kiss


When did saying hello or goodbye stop being simple?  I’m sure it was simple when I was at school.  Just “Hello” and “Goodbye” would suffice. The art of letter writing was quite straightforward.  You only had to remember to sign off “Yours sincerely” to a named person and “Yours faithfully” to an unnamed “Sir” or “Madam”.  When I recently received a text from a burly builder friend, apologising for not having put a “x” at the end of his previous text, it made me laugh out loud, but also had me thinking how complicated it has all become, and what an awful waste of emotional energy we must expend trying to get it right.

I think I was first aware of the issue in the sixth form when some of the drama luvvies  started to air kiss when they met each other.  Being air kissed for the first time was quite a shock and straight out of my comfort zone.  I struggled with that through university and into the work place.  Is it the right thing to actually kiss on the cheek or do we just make that smacking sound and brush cheeks? Is it one cheek or two?  And the amount of times I’ve had an awkward moment when accidentally brushing lips with someone is too embarrassing to think about for more than a second.  Thankfully there is no air kissing at the school gates that I have noticed, so that is one problem I seldom face these days.

The art of letter writing seemed to become a problem when communication moved into the realm of e-mails.  Less formality meant I was suddenly faced with a new dilemma in the workplace.  Did I greet my boss with a “Dear” or a “Hi”?  I think one eventually morphed into the other, and also with clients.  How and when did that happen?  It seemed natural to end each email with a short and sweet “Thanks”.  Over time I cottoned on to “Regards” which at some stage was met with “Kind Regards”, “Warm Regards” and “Best Regards”.  When does one become the other?  Now I flinch when someone sends me a message with simply “Regards”.  What does that mean?  It somehow feels so cold, especially if it is in response to my “Kind Regards” but then what does the sender intend?  Perhaps they always sign off “Regards” and it means nothing at all.  I also became unsure of the adequacy of my “Thanks” when I started to receive the dreaded “Many Thanks”. 

At one point I remember receiving a “Best” and was sent off kilter.  Best what?  Since then all “regards” seem very business like and having come out of the business arena, I find myself never quite sure how to sign off an e-mail, often signing with “Best wishes” but can’t help but feel those words sound like something off an outmoded Christmas card.  So for me the dilemma continues.

I will never forget backstabbing “S”.  He was a lawyer acting on the other side of a deal.  My stomach flipped when I received a message in such an over-familiar way.  Was his name Simon or Stuart?  I forget, but his overfamiliarity was just a trick to make me believe we were on the same team. ‘Thanks “S”,’ I thought when he tried to make me look a fool in front of my client later down the line.  No more “A” sign offs for you from now on.  

The biggest struggle for me, however, is the “x” problem.  Almost everyone seems to sign off their text messages with a “x” and that same shoulder-tightening flinch creeps up on me when I receive a message without a “x”, or if I forget to send one.  They seem so overused now that the receipt of a “x” has lost its currency.  It’s more of an issue not to receive one, than a joy to receive one.  Some of my old work colleagues don’t “x”, or only very occasionally.  Receipt of a “x” from them seems to hold more meaning.  At least backstabbing “S” didn’t resort to signing off with a “x”!

Not satisfied with one “x”, there is now the double “x” or the triple “x”.  Recently I found out that some people have “xxx” set up as an automatic response.  The overuse of the “x” is becoming as unnecessary and meaningless as the overused “!”.  Maybe we should go back to a more sincere “Hello” and “Goodbye” - no air kisses please - an emailed “Hi” and “Thanks,” and I guess I will just have to put a “x” on my text messages each and every time, just to be on the safe side, along with my burly builder friend.