Classic Spin

These past few days I've not only heard the first cuckoo but also seen the first swallow! Also, we bought two small trees for the garden - cherry blossom and apple blossom, which we will be planting today, as well as preparing the bedroom for it's new floor. It's been a good week for doing things!

Reading, though, not so much. In October, I read The Worm Forgives the Plough right at the beginning of a reading rut, and I had the same feeling about The Diary of a Provincial Lady when I finished it last night: both books would have been perfect if they had come at the right time. When I finished reading it, I looked for something else and amongst my nearly 900 book collection I couldn't find anything. I think perhaps reading my take a backseat this week whilst all the work is going on, which is fine, and I'll settle with a short story collection perhaps. Dorothy Parker, perhaps. I laid out, as I do every month, my plans for reading, and I do believe this will be my first month of blogging where I have not read most of the books I had wished to. But, unlike last year, I'm not going to try and force my way out of it. Plenty to be getting on with. Today will be repainting, cleaning, and planting trees. The little budgers are getting a poor deal, though. This room (I say "this" because I'm in it now) is their room for flying around in, and they can't when I'm painting. If it warms up they'll go outside, but as it's cold I'm not sure what to do. They hate flying around in the living room, the kitchen is obviously unsuitable, and the other rooms are too small for them to get a proper shot at flying. I think they may have to put up with it, though. They can't stay in the cage until Tuesday: aside from the fact they're very young with a lot of energy, they're just not used to sitting in a cage day in, day out. Well, I'll come up with something.

Back to reading: this is a good time for me, I think, to be told what to read, so I have another reason to participate in the Classic Spin! Same rules as last time:

You have to read one of these twenty books in May & June. (Details follow.) So, try to challenge yourself. For example, you could list five Classics Club books you are dreading/hesitant to read, five you can’t WAIT to read, five you are neutral about, and five free choice (favorite author, rereads, ancients — whatever you choose.)

Here's my list:

Books I'm dreading:

1. Radcliffe, Ann - The Italian
2. Rushdie, Salman - The Satanic Verses
3. Fowles, John - The Magus
4. Gogol, Nikolai - Dead Souls
5. Amis, Martin - London Fields

Books I'm looking forward to:

6. Waugh, Evelyn - Scoop
7. Nesbit, E. - The Railway Children
8. Stowe, Harriet Beecher - Uncle Tom's Cabin
9. Heaney, Seamus - Beowulf
10. Elliot, George - Adam Bede

Books I'm neutral about:

11. Fowles, John - The French Lieutenant's Woman
12. Haggard, H. Rider - She
13. Blackmore , R. D. - Lorna Doone
14. James, Henry - What Maise Knew
15. Kundera, Milan - The Unbearable Lightness of Being 

Free choice: the books I've been meaning to read for ages.

16. Hardy, Thomas -  The Return of the Native
17. Scott, Walter - Ivanhoe  
18. James, Henry - The Wings of the Dove
19. Orwell, George - The Road to Wigan Pier
20. Sackville-West, Vita - The Edwardians 

Very much hoping for #7!

Anyway, it's nearly half twelve. Must press on!

Oh, last thing: I must buy batteries for my camera tomorrow. So many things to take pictures of, and I've barely taken any at all this spring.

A break from my break.

This week and next week are going to be very busy, but I can't help but feel I'm overestimating the potential disruption. We're finally getting around to re-flooring the bedroom, and my plans for preparation certainly are... thorough. 

I decided I wanted all my books in the bedroom, which leaves no room for the wardrobes, so the wardrobes are being moved into the smallest room. They fit, and I have every confidence that once it's all straightened out it will look quite nice, but I thought this might be an all day job. But, it wasn't and I moved them remarkably quickly (have to say at this point I'm particularly proud of moving them: I've thought all week it would be a man's job, but it crossed my mind this morning that this was a poor attitude for the 21st Century so I decided to give it a go myself and, as I've said, it was a success). Now all that needs to be done is tidy the mess I've made and re-paint a wall.

I decided to give myself all day Saturday for re-painting, which is why today, Thursday, I still haven't bought the paint. Really, there is very little to do until Monday, when the re-flooring starts. Obvious thing to do: tidy the mess, have a think of how I want things laid out, then do various other things for the remainder of the week (reading, ideally). But it's not quite working out like that. Despite moving two very heavy wardrobes myself, I can't help but think straightening things will require quite an effort, and this is precisely why I haven't actually achieved anything of note for the past hour and a half.

I decided, these now ninety minutes ago, to have a break. This made sense because I actually had something to break from. So, I had a jam sandwich and played with the birds. Then I thought it best to have a bath. Typically, that quick bath was the perfect temperature so I was reluctant to leave it, and spent the whole twenty minutes feeling guilty and slightly worried that the postman would knock (not guilty or worried enough to get out, however). Temperature eventually cooled, I got out, and I moved some shoes, and now I'm having a cup of coffee and I'm writing this. 

I should say at this point, internet is at an all time low. I think there's enough left on it to post this, though I'm not confident I'll be able to send the update to Twitter and Facebook. We're waiting on the delivery of a new dongle, and we were assured next day delivery (which would have been Tuesday). Still no sign of it, and once this connection is gone then it's gone until the new dongle arrives. Such is life.

So, there is my day. Moving things and frequently stopping to admire how well the tree outside is doing (full of catkins), and look out the window to see if there are any vans. Today is also one of those days where the laws of physics have been apparently suspended and anything that can fall will fall, and if there's anything to hook on to you can guarantee my cardigan pocket will do so with little to no intervention from me either way.

As for reading: I correctly predicted that H. E. Bates has ruined reading for me for a while as I feel I've reached the absolute pinnacle of literature and it's all over. Probably this isn't true, but all the same I'm unmoved to read much. I have been reading The Provincial Lady in America, which would have been much better if H. E. Bates had never been born, and I did start The American Senator by Trollope (love the entire first paragraph but haven't got beyond it yet). And I have finished Don Quixote (nothing to say on it, though).

And the budgies are all well. Their new favourite place to play is an old typewriter: they're enjoying jumping on the keys. I'm half-tempted to buy a new ribbon and put some paper in it to see what they come up with, but I don't think they're jumping that hard. At the moment, Myshkin is sitting on the window sill having (another) little snack, and Trotwood and Oliver are running up and down the curtain pole of the opposite window. George, my boyfriend's parrot, is watching 'As Time Goes By' downstairs (he likes UK Gold, and I don't know anyone who doesn't like Judy Dench). 

Anyway, my coffee is almost finished. I wouldn't be surprised if my suspicions were unfounded and I do after all have a great deal to do today. So, I shall try to post this and then press on. Probably once the shoes are moved it will look a little less of a miserable task. 

Tales from the sick bed.

It's a very quiet day here in the forest. I've trapped a nerve in my neck, and Big C is very much under the weather, so there's a lot of lying around and brave smiles being exchanged. It's the perfect day to lie in bed and read, but of course, as it's being forced on me, I don't want to. After a little play online, though, I suppose I should. Even the budgies are quiet - they're still in their cage downstairs, Oliver and Trotwood are asleep and Myshkin is watching Tom and Jerry with George (who is loudly imitating various noises, so I suppose it's not that quiet here). Myshkin and Oliver had an argument last night - Oliver walked past her then turned, clipping her face with his tail, and I wish I could say she was philosophical about it. Rather she reached across and pulled his tail as hard as she could. But, yes, they're quiet now and appear to have forgotten about it.

Meanwhile, I'm wondering what I want to read. I really don't feel like going back to bed, but it's the sensible thing to do. I finished Don Quixote a few days ago, and I'm so happy to have read it. Only a shame I didn't enjoy it! Don Quixote vaguely irritated me, and really very little appealed. The second part, I think, is much better than the first and almost redeemed the whole lot, but not quite. Nevertheless I've finished it, and it was good to have read: it's an important book.

So what now? I have The American Senator (Trollope), Ivanhoe (Scott: most likely), The Diary of a Provincial Lady (E. M. Delafield), and Old Wives Tale (Bennett) that I want to read, but as I say, Ivanhoe is the most likely. I've been meaning to read this one book for years and there's no reason why I haven't other than, well, I just haven't. I'm ready, though. I've got a feeling I won't like it, perhaps that's why I haven't yet. I've not read any Walter Scott, and I did read the first paragraph of Ivanhoe, and I did like it, so I'm not sure what this prejudice is about!

Well, I suppose I should make some lunch (or dinner, because it's nearly five) and go back to bed. It's so sunny here, it's a crime to be indoors. There's a definite change here: the snowdrops have all gone and the daffodils are slightly faded, meanwhile the dandelions and other flowers are showing their faces and the trees are suddenly a lot greener. Their leaves are almost pearl like in their newness, especially the tree opposite with it's catkins. Really very lovely time of year (I'll take pictures next week).

Anyway. Since starting this post I've brought the budgies up and they're flying back and forward. It's astonishing - for birds who like peace and quiet, they're incredibly loud! Now I'm going to get something to eat, take more painkillers, and retire with Ivanhoe. I do hope I like it. Walter Scott is a local lad, so I would like to read a lot more than just Ivanhoe.

The Pop Larkin Chronicles, by H. E. Bates.

I can't be absolutely certain, but I do believe I saw two swallows this evening sitting on a telegraph pole. I hope I did. It's starting to get warm enough: mornings here recently have been chilly and grey, but by early, mid-afternoon the clouds clear and the sun comes out. Late afternoon today it was hot, and when we got home although it had clouded over and the garden was in the shade it was still gloriously warm. Now, at nearly eleven o' clock, there is the chill of a day with few clouds. 

It is the perfect night to go to bed early with The Pop Larkin Chronicles by H. E. Bates, but I'm very sad to say I finished it last night. Do not underestimate my sincerity when I say this: I am sad, upset even, to have finished it. I wish so very much there were more Pop Larkin books. My edition contained them all: The Darling Buds of May (1958), A Breath of French Air (1959), When the Green Woods Laugh (1960), Oh! To Be in England (1963), and A Little of What You Fancy (1970). I loved them. I wish so much I hadn't finished them yesterday. Honestly, if I hadn't lent it to my mother I would start them again tonight. I was looking before for something similar, and I remembered with joy I had some Jeeves books, but then I discovered I've read the only five I own. I think what I'll do is re-read The Diary of a Provincial Lady, and then go on to read that series.

But I want to read The Pop Larkin Chronicles. It's no good, this. Only, I think, one other book has had this effect on me and that was The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, knowing that, having finished it, there was no more Anne Bronte for me. And now no more Pop. I have this dreadful feeling that I've done it, I've found the perfect book, and now it's all over. Nothing else will match up and the rest of my years of reading will be vaguely dissatisfying. Perhaps I'll end up giving up reading and take up, I don't know, boating or something. 

It was that good. I will admit, there was two incidents that made me wince, and there it showed it was a product of its time, but that was the beauty of it (not those two incidents, the whole thing I mean). A by-gone age where Britain was great, summers were eternal, everything was beautiful and nothing hurt... Nothing was awful, nothing fazed the Larkins. A tax inspector shows up in the first book, The Darling Buds of May, and that ought to strike fear into anyone's heart, but not the Larkins. They ended up having a jolly good weekend and, well, the rest would be spoiling it. Bad things are quickly sorted out and everyone has fun. It's like an adult Enid Blyton, or whatever your favourite children's book was. That's exactly it, it is the comfort read. It surpasses all 'gentle' literature. Even Jeeves. I even prefer it to The Diary of a Provincial Lady, and that is one of my favourite books of all time. It's flowers and fruit and sun beams and happiness and fun. Glorious, beyond anything else. 

Everyone should own this book: it is the absolute "in case of emergency" literature. I will re-read this book until it falls apart. I'm even going to order The Darling Buds of May DVD (starring David Jason as Pop, Pam Ferris as Ma, and Catherine Zeta Jones as Mariette). I had already seen them: they were coming out, I think, in the early 90s when I was very young. I think I remember watching them on a Sunday evening. They were like Last of the Summer Wine or Dad's Army only better (and I love those programmes as well!). 

The Pop Larkin Chronicles is now my favourite all time book and I wish so much I hadn't finished them last night. I'm miserable now.

18th Century English Literature Event for June.

This is an:

18th Century English Literature Event
during June 2013,

or, an

Exploration of the Development of the Modern Novel,

particularly concerning

the Works of Great British Authors

including but not limited to

Richardson, Defoe, Sterne, Swift, and Fielding,

or any other great novelists, poets, or essayists
 the reader may with to familiarise themselves with.

Hosted by o, author of Délaissé and other significantly less great and unpublished writings.

Since reading Clarissa in October - November '11, I've become a big fan of 18th Century English literature, so, whilst Adam is hosting the Beats of Summer I shall be hosting my own 18th Century Event for the Classics Club!

It was in the 18th Century where the novel as we know it today came into its own. It was an age of polished prose during a time of great upheaval where the Enlightenment led to attacks on authority, intolerance, dogmatism, and censorship. Satire reigned (and we all got wet). In literary terms, we saw the epistolary novels such as Clarissa, Fanny Hill, and Moll Flanders, the sentimental novels like Pamela and Tristam Shandy, or The Expedition of Humphrey Clinker, the Gothic novels such as The Castle of Ontranto and The Mysteries of Udolpho, and Libertine novels like the wonderful Tom Jones. The number of titles available to the reader positively soared during the 18th Century, no longer available only to the privileged aristocracy. They say that Defoe's Robinson Crusoe was the first novel in the English language, published in 1719 (though there are other contenders). The 18th Century was, in short, a revolutionary period that I would very much like to have seen, and as I can't, this is my only way of visiting it, and I'd like you to join me!

The major writers of the time included:

• Jonathon Swift, who wrote in The Tale of a Tub (1704), "[I] shall be too proud if, by all my labours, I can have anyways contributed to the repose of mankind in times so turbulent and unquiet as these". Swift was also the author of Gulliver's Travels (1726).
• Daniel Defoe, author of The Consolidator (1705), Robinson Crusoe (1719), Moll Flanders (1722), Memoirs of a Cavalier (1720), A Journey of the Plague Year (1722), and Roxana (1724).
• Samuel Richardson, author of one of the longest novels ever written: Clarissa, published in 1747 - 1748, as well as Pamela (1740), and Sir Charles Gradison (1753 - 54).
• Henry Fielding, literary rival and hater of Samuel Richardson, who satirized Pamela in Shamela (1741), and author of what Richardson refers to as Fielding's "spurious brat" Tom Jones (1749).
• Laurence Sterne, a man who was post-modern before it was cool, author of Tristam Shandy (1760s).
• John Cleland, author of the fantastically bawdy Fanny Hill (1748) which I do believe would make E. L. James blush.
• Horace Walpole, who we are to blame for the Gothic Movement if what I have read is true! Author of The Castle of Ontranto (1764).
• Fanny Burney, author of Evelina (1778), Camilla (1782), and Cecelia (1796).
• Ann Radcliffe, who I met through Jane Austen's Northanger Abbey, author of The Italian and The Mysteries of Udolpho.

These, then, are the novelists. Meanwhile, David Hume, Samuel Johnson, James Boswell, and Mary Wollstonecraft were writing too, as were William Blake, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and William Wordsworth. So so much to chose from!

For this event, I suggest a simple free-for-all. Pick one book (or two or three) and read through that, dabble in the poetry, go through the works of a single author, or even pick a decade and read what you can or want from that. When one is unfamiliar with 18th Century writing, it's not an easy experience to break through, and I want everyone to participate and not be put off, and I can guarantee that if I suggest Clarissa as read-a-long of the month no one will want to join in! I hope those that aren't so familiar with the 18th Century novels will use this event to break in, and for those of you who think 18th Century is old hat, consider this an opportunity to join others in delving a little deeper. This is a good century!

As for me - I shall be reading Tristam Shandy, and hopefully Roxana and a little of Boswell and Johnson's The Journey to the Western Islands Scotland and The Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides. Boswell and Johnson are completely new territory to me, so I look forward to being introduced to them!

If you're interested, and I hope you are, here are some buttons for you to spread the word, and at the bottom there is a Mr. Linky to sign up with. At the beginning of June, assuming people are interested, I shall write a master post :)

Books I did read.

A few days ago I was reminded of a post I wrote on the 4th September '11. Mainly, it was about how I didn't like Anna Karenina, but at the end I wrote a small list of books I hadn't read yet but I wanted to. It wasn't a list of books I especially fancied reading or was particularly curious about, more that, for some reason or another, I hadn't got around to yet but felt that I ought to have done. Months later I wrote a list, and then the Classic Club started, but these lists are quite old: the 'ought to have read' was finished months ago, and the Classics Club list was compiled over a year ago now. And this list in the post from September '11 was never something I particularly focused on, but, as is happens, I've read all but one of them.

The list was:

• The Illiad
• Les Miserables
• Don Quixote
• Finnegan's Wake
• Love in the Time of Cholera
• Swann's Way
• Tender is the Night
• The Hunchback of Notre Dame
• Vanity Fair
• The Sea, The Sea

The one I haven't read: Don Quixote. 

One of the thing I find about reading is that there is always something I haven't got to yet, and more pertinently, I feel it's a shame I haven't got to it yet. The more I read, the more this list grows. I don't think I'd heard of, for example, Arnold Bennett when I wrote it, but now I'm at the stage where I think I really should have done by now. It's like Balzac - it took me ages to get around to Balzac (and I can't say it particularly changed my life when I finally did), or To Kill a Mockingbird (now that truly is a classic). But always, always, there are some titles or authors that make me feel that by now reading I'm not particularly well read.

I'm not going to make a list here, merely thinking about how the more you read the more you really want to read. The more books come my way, the more I realise how many of them are out there. Zola - I'm not sure I was terribly concerned about having not read Zola when I wrote that, but now I say quite regularly that he is essential reading. But the others - two Bennetts, actually - Arnold and Alan, and no Samuel Butler or Samuel Johnson have I read yet. I never yet read the Buddhist Scriptures, and Sir Walter Scott - I have Ivanhoe, Rob Roy, Waverly, and The Abbot and never read a single one. There are so many classics, the more I read, the more I want to, the more I discover the untouched. I want to read everything.

I'm going out tonight and I'm taking Don Quixote with me. I'm one story away from finishing The Larkin Chronicles, but I'm enjoying them so much I have no wish to finish them in a club (I'm not out with friends, I hasten to add, tonight I'm a roadie and there's a lot of time between setting up and packing away, so I will have the time to make a dent). With most of the books I haven't read yet, I do have hope and great excitement for them, but I can't help but feel Don Quixote might be a little bit of a chore. I hope not, but we'll see.

Until I leave, I think I'll return to H. E. Bates. I have unruly budgies to put away. Trotwood and Oliver are flying back and forward, Myshkin however is sitting quietly apparently fascinated by the clicking of my rings as I type this (I haven't worn more than one ring on each hand for years, but today I felt like a change, and there is a slight jangle as I type which she's clearly interested in).

Have a great weekend, everyone :)

May.

Sparrow action shot!

May already - we're a third of the way through 2013. It's off to a sunny and warm start. Yesterday was the first hot day where we could sit in the garden, which I did, and I finished The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton (wonderful book). April was a good month: the daffodils finally came out, I finally finished my 100 Greatest Novels, the budgies finally got to play out at length in the aviary (where they are now), and I got to the halfway point of the Rougon Macquart cycle!

And May: plenty of reading goals! I've started reading the Qur'an - only just, though: I'm on the 6th section of the second sura. I also started The Pop Larkin Chronicles by H. E. Bates, which contains The Darling Buds of May (you see now why I've picked this!), A Breath of French Air, When the Green Woods Laugh, Oh! To Be in England, and A Little of What You Fancy. So far I'm enjoying it, but again I've only just started it (I think I'm on page 14). 

And there's a few others on my pile that I'm very much looking forward to: The Ladies Paradise by Zola, Is God Happy? by Leszek Kołakowski (the problem of evil never fails to fascinate me), The Old Wives Tale by Arnold Bennett (I've not read any Bennett and I think it's time to remedy this), and Lady Anna by Trollope. The latter, however, may change: Karen K recommended to me The American Senator by Trollope and I've ordered it: if it comes before the weekend I may well switch to that. Or I may end up reading both, who knows...

I also want to blog a bit more. I've too many posts unwritten and it's becoming a habit. I'm aiming to go back to my three or four posts a week average. Also on the blog front, I'll be hosting an event for June, which I'll write about this week.... For now, I'm going to make dinner and sit outside with the budgies. They're loving the hot weather, particularly Myshkin. Yesterday I sprayed them all, something Oliver isn't so keen on. Trotwood loved it, but Myshkin was ecstatic, contorting into a variety of positions so I could spray her all over, and at one point hanging from the perch holding it with one foot whilst she stretched her other foot out for that to be sprayed! Very happy little birds in this lovely spring weather. May is one of my favourite months, and I'm so looking forward to reading my books!

Happy May, everyone!

This weekend's reading.

Once again, I didn't manage the full 24 hours, however I did read an awful lot, which was my goal. I managed ten books:

• The Upanishads, On Christian Teaching, and The Eternal Husband, all of which were on my Classic Club list (the Dostoevsky was my 96th book).
• Washington Square, which was on my Penguin English Library list (I'm now up to book #62).
• Pot-Luck, which put me at the half way point of the Rougon Macquart series.
• The rest: The Loved One, Breakfast at Tiffany's, Flush, The Bhagavad Gita, and The Pearl. 

Goodreads tells me I'm 27 books ahead of schedule for my goal of 150 books in 2013. So, all in all, a great weekend!

I'm amazed at just how much I loved Washington Square - on the whole, I do enjoy a Henry James, and I was curious about this one, but at the same time I wasn't pinning my hopes on it. It was remarkably good, though. A brilliant book, and now one of my favourites of the year.

And The Pearl: I actually started it about a month ago in the most ridiculous circumstances: I was standing in an exceedingly long Post Office queue (as Bill Bryson once said, in England there are only ever two desks in the Post Office open unless it's very busy, in which case only one is opened) and by chance I had this in my bag. I began to read it (and such was the length of the queue I got almost to the half way point), and all the while children screamed, adults tutted, and the chap in front of me kept turning around and staring at my bag, which rather put me on edge. Needless to say I was not engaged in Steinbeck, but this weekend I truly was. Steinbeck is a literary god.

As for the others: Flush was beautiful, but I knew that already (it was a re-read), and Breakfast at Tiffany's was fun. The first chapter or so of The Loved Ones made me wish I hadn't picked it up, however very suddenly it got very good and I thoroughly recommend it. The Eternal Husband was fine (I always have a mixed experience with Dostoevsky, sometimes I love him, other times not at all), and On Christian Teaching was read under sufferance. The Upanishads and Bhagavad Gita were very intriguing, and ones to re-read. 

Finally: I've began to read The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. I'm barely a chapter in, but I think it's very promising!

As I said: a great weekend! I hope everyone else enjoyed their weekend. I'm rather out of the loop still - there's some connection problems here at the moment, so I'm tending to come online, do my things, then come straight off. To be honest, the internet is costing a small fortune at the minute, but hopefully this will be resolved soon enough. For now, when it comes to online activity time is very much of the essence. I'm so jealous of people with Broadband! I will have a look through my Google Reader though and check in with a few, and then to bed to read more of Wharton.

Dewey's Readathon IV.

It's a promising day here today in the forest! Cloudy, but warmer than it has been, and I do believe in a few hours the clouds may (hopefully) disappear and we'll be left with a sunny afternoon. That said, yesterday there was a hail storm, so we shall have to see...

It's been a productive week: the kind of week that's left me very sore - clearing wood and finally tidying the patio, and this morning I have what only can be described as a righteous ache in my rather bruised arms. A perfect day to spend reading.

So, the budgies are in the aviary enjoying the warmth, everything's tidy, and I am about to make a cup of coffee and settle down. I can't imagine I'll get through the full 24 hours today, but as I want to read as much as possible I'm going to start once this post is up, which will be about an hour early. It doesn't make sense to waste the hour, though that said I may go on Tumblr for a little while!

My book choices? They're a mix of challenges, books I want to read, books I don't want to read but set myself the challenge of reading, books I've bought this year but not got around to, and nearly all of them are pretty slim volumes. Here is my selection:

• The Upanishads and The Bhagavad Gita.
• Steinbeck's The Pearl.
• Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson.
• Gorky's My Childhood.
• The Eternal Husband by Dostoevsky.
• The Loved One by Evelyn Waugh.
• The Awakening by Kate Chopin.
• On Christian Teaching by St. Augustine.
• Flush by Virginia Woolf (a re-read).
• Washington Square by Henry James.
• Capote's Breakfast at Tiffany's.
• And, lastly, I want to finish Pot Luck by Émile Zola. This is the tenth of the 'Rougon Macquart' cycle, so once I've finished that I will be half way through.

I'm very much looking forward to Flush, Dostoevsky, and Washington Square. On Christian Teaching: not so much, but I will probably start with this one!

I'll update every three or four hours, but my internet connection is very poor today so if I disappear I'll update on Twitter, assuming my phone has better luck!

Until then I shall have a little play on Tumblr, make myself a cup of coffee, then get started with St. Augustine!

Have a great readathon, everyone! I'll update this post in the next few hours.

**************

16:15 - Finished my first two: Breakfast at Tiffany's, which I thoroughly enjoyed, and The Upanishads, also enjoyed very much. Right now I'm half way through On Christian Teaching: put it this way, I'll be glad to have read it.

Meanwhile, budgies are still playing outside :)

19:19 - I've just finished Pot Luck by Émile Zola, which means I've reached the half way point of the Rougon Macquart cycle! I've been working my way through this series since August '12, so this is quite a landmark to have reached!

I also finished St. Augustine, which was one of those books I dreaded reading, so all in all it's been a good few hours!

20:56 - Just finished Flush - reckon it's been ten years since I last read it. Wonderful wonderful book.

Also wanted to share with you tonight's sunset :)

Now I'm going to warm up a croissant and start, I think, Washington Square, but I may change my mind and go for The Loved Ones. Either way, I won't go to bed before I've read them both! I'm aiming for a solid 12 hours - it's been such a busy week I don't think I'll go for 24. 12 is respectable, and I have all of tomorrow.

Catch you all later :)

00:25 - I've finished Washington Square, which is one of the best books I've read in 2013. What a book! Now I'm thinking of heading to bed, but still I shall read even if I don't update again tonight. I'm going to read the very small Bhagavad Gita, and then begin The Loved Ones. Assuming I'm awake after that, I'll choose between The Pearl and The Eternal Husband. I am very tired, though!

12:01 - Well, I managed to finish The Bhagavad Gita and get a reasonable night's sleep after a 13 hour readathon. I started The Pearl this morning, and as I have nothing planned for today I'm going to keep reading! Dewey's Readathon finishes in the next hour,  but I'm going to keep on going :) I'll update in a separate post this evening.

I hope everyone had a great time, and a massive well done to those who managed the full 24 hours! I think I must be getting old... Catch you later, everyone!

Black Beauty, by Anna Sewell.

Anna Sewell.

A few nights ago I decided to read Black Beauty, deciding I had put it off long enough. But I put it off and read Huckleberry Finn instead. Then, last night, I looked forward to picking a new book to read, wandering around my shelves and picking something not on a list (or if it was, that would be a coincidence). Picking a new book to read is always exciting, especially when it's not prescribed. However, it was so cold last night and I couldn't see the titles from my bed, so I turned to my bedside table, which has The Way We Live Now (not yet put away), Das Kapital (not sure I'm ready for it, and besides it's certainly not a bedtime book), and Black Beauty from the other night. So I read it.

I braced myself and I read it. Like Huckleberry Finn it was remarkably quick to read, but that's not really the point. Black Beauty is one of those stories that is familiar, however vaguely, and has had so many adaptations that are at the very least bearable (the one which sticks in mind is 'The New Adventures of Black Beauty' which I watched as a child), but I knew as we all probably do that this, the original, is a heartbreaker. And it is, however Sewell manages to just about keep it on this side of readable by 'sharing the experience out' as it were: Black Beauty suffers, he suffers terrible things, however there are some other unnamed horses who suffer a great deal more, however because we're never introduced to them the attachment we may have to Black Beauty isn't there so much. That said, there is one example which entirely contradicts what I have wrote, however, as I say, it is not our hero that suffers the worst possible atrocities. It is that that kept it from being utterly excruciating.

And our hero is also a mouthpiece Black Beauty is a polemic above all else, and through this we learn more about the treatment of horses in the 19th Century. I was thinking of all the other horses I must have come across in the 19th Century novel: unnamed, barely mentioned except a tool to get from A to B. But here they are, this is their story, their novel, and within it there are little stories that could remind the reader of these other horses in other novels. Black Beauty waits in the cold and rain for two gentlemen to leave a party or a club (can't remember which) - one of these gentlemen could have been Sir Felix from The Way We Are Now, and is this that makes Black Beauty an essential read. That it was to draw attention to the plight of horses then, how they were used and often cruelly - that piece of history that not everyone is familiar with - there is another reason why it is essential reading. As I say, it's a polemic; this is not subtle writing, but Sewell was angry, very angry, and she fought with her pen as all the very best writers do. It's a mistake to see this as children's literature and expect a heart-warming story. This is fury in ink, and it's huge, it's strong, it's full of rage. Sewell must have been remarkable and I want to know more about her.

There's one scene where Black Beauty is about to leave a station, his carriage filled to the brim with luggage that a lady fears is too heavy for him to manage. Her fears are dismissed, as though the lady was merely sentimental with no real understanding of the capabilities of horses. But this lady is right: she was not foolish and "emotional" (one of those words used against women still). Black Beauty was hurt by it, proving in this awful way that he was not a machine but a living animal with a history, friends, relationships, a mother and brother, feelings, and, most importantly here, limits. I wonder if this was a preemptive strike on Sewell's part. She possibly anticipated her novel would be viewed as the sentimental, silly concerns of a lady who really could never understand. But she did. Her lady in the scene was right, and so too was Anna Sewell. I've never wanted to thank an author more than her.

The Way We Live Now, by Anthony Trollope.

This, I'm afraid, is going to have to be a fly-by blog post: laptop issues continue, and today I can barely see the screen for a start, and also, why I don't know, this laptop does at random switch it's self off. So, we shall see how far I get!

Yesterday I finished The Way We Live Now by Trollope. It's strange: I feel I can confidently assert that I love Trollope, however I've only read this, his Autobiography, The Warden, and He Knew He Was Right. Even so, I do, I love him. I love his style, he almost feels more familiar than Dickens: that way of writing that puts the reader at ease, perhaps friendlier, just as wordy but in a more informal way. I think that's a clumsy way of putting it; it's very hard to describe. His presence is very much felt, and fortunately that presence is very amiable.

That said, The Way We Live Now is much darker than the other books I've read by Trollope. And, never before has an author made it so very clear and obvious about marriage in the 19th Century: that it was a financial transaction above all else and some sneered at the notion of love. There is one scene that will stay with me: two characters, Melmotte and Sir Felix discussing the latter marrying Marie Melmotte, the thrashing out of the income: I would say "shameless", but this is of course my 21st Century perspective - shame didn't come into it. For me, this scene was the very best I've read describing this attitude.

It was grim, but not in an overt way (at least most of it wasn't), and it was sad, cynical, and at times infuriating. But it's a good novel - one of the best Victorian novels I've read. As I say, those bartering scenes will stay with me, so too will Trollope's odd dig at Disraeli and the politics of the time which still very much apply to the present government and, well, there's no other way of putting it - the way we live now.

I'm amazed it took me so long to get to - I haven't made much effort with Mr. Trollope this year, but this book makes me wonder if I can real all of his novels, not merely a selection.

And in other book news: I need to write my post on Nana, which I will do very soon. Also, last night and this morning I read Huckleberry Finn - I was surprised at how quickly I read it and how much I enjoyed it - so very much more than Tom Sawyer. Finally, as I said on Twitter earlier, in crossing off Nana, I read my 90th book for the Classics Club (now 91 thanks to Huckleberry Finn), so I've reached my half way point!

I'm hoping this week to write a 'proper' blog post. I haven't had much time or motivation for blogging for over a month now, and it's becoming very difficult to be inspired to write, although I'm reading as much as always and have read some great books recently. Hopefully before Saturday I shall write something I'm happy with, but even if I don't, I shall certainly be blogging through Dewey's Readathon! I'm so looking forward to that - already getting together my little pile!

Daffodils.

They've done it, they've bloomed! High winds and grey sky, hence the dull picture, but there they are in full glitter. Spring began today. 

And now I return to Nana, which I've almost finished.