Month: November 2018

A Bookish Restorative

/ Eleanor Jane / Leave a comment

I mentioned a couple of weeks ago that it has been a busy few months for me. I was feeling very tired and drained so I have just spent a week in Dartmouth to recuperate.

I intended to have a week doing not very much at all and I relished the time I could spend curled up with a book or my crochet. It being November, most of that was indoors – I particularly loved this corner by the fire.

However, as long as one wore enough layers it was definitely possible to read outside. This little beach was wonderfully quiet and secluded.

It was definitely a good week.

L M Montgomery’s Journals

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For the past few years I have been working my way through L M Montgomery’s journals. I have been a fan of her fiction for such a long time and I couldn’t resist her journals when I found them.

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So far I have read the first three volumes of the selected journals, plus the first volume of the complete journals – it has more pictures as well as all the diary entries and I just had to read it.

The writing is just beautiful and I have many, many quotes marked.  It is just the sort of book I love to carry around with me to dip into whenever I get a chance.

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Montgomery led a fascinating, if rather difficult life, and it has been wonderful to learn more about it.  My dilemma now is what to read next – I have volume four of the selected journals but also the third volume of the complete version (I have so far not managed to get hold of the second).  I can’t quite decide whether to go on or to go back and reread the years I have already covered but with extra diary entries.

Really I know I’ll go back to read the complete version at some point anyway – so it might as well be now!

Struggling

/ Eleanor Jane / 2 Comments

This has been a bit of a slow week for me reading wise.  I have plenty of books which I really want to read but the books I have actually been reading have not been holding my interest.

First I had After the Party by Cressida Connolly.  This was my book club’s choice for November and for some reason I was not looking forward to it.  I kept putting off starting it and eventually began it about two days before the meeting.  Once I did get started I raced through it – I thought it was well written and the words flowed easily off the page.  I did however seem to be constantly waiting for a momentous event that never materialised.  I think it was just not the right time for me to read it – most of my book club loved it and we had a great discussion about it.

I have also been reading Sylvia’s Lovers by Elizabeth Gaskell.  This one is for an Instagram readalong hosted by Shelbi over at The Nobby Life.  I was really looking forward to it as I normally love Gaskell’s books but again, I am finding it a bit slow going and I still feel as if I’m waiting for something to happen.

I don’t dislike it though – it just hasn’t fully captured my imagination yet.  I’m only halfway through so there is plenty of time!

As I said, it’s not really the fault of the books.  I have had a busy few weeks and what I really need now is a light, fast-paced, easy read.  It’s important I think not to push oneself too much to read things one doesn’t enjoy just for the sake of a discussion.  Reading is meant to be fun after all.

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On first reading ‘Frankenstein’

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Frankenstein is another one of those books which I have been meaning to read for years but, somehow, never have. I never felt quite in the right mood to pick it up. Then I went to the Cheltenham Literary Festival and won a beautiful copy (along with some other great prizes).

Halloween was fast approaching and it seemed like the time was just right – so last week I settled down to enjoy it.

I knew that there would be no green monster with a bolt through his neck but I wasn’t prepared for quite how confused my feelings would become. I spent a huge proportion of the book firmly on the ‘monster’s’ side and only really started to question that right at the end.

I think my main problem is that I just didn’t like Victor Frankenstein. It seemed to me that he spent most of the time just complaining about how the monster had ruined his life but – whilst this was technically true – that was entirely his own fault and I found it very difficult to sympathise with him. If he had not abandoned his creation in the first place it is likely that none of the consequent catastrophes would have happened.

I realise of course that the book is meant to make us question the way we treat differences but – although I see that it is a fantastic book – my dislike of Victor Frankenstein is so great that it has left me wondering if I enjoyed the book at all.