These couple of paragraphs are from Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. The passage speaks for itself, really, and right to my heart!
'I have been thinking about existence lately. In fact, I have been so full of admiration for existence that I have hardly been able to enjoy it properly. As I was walking up to the church this morning, I passed that row of big oaks by the war memorial — if you remember them — and I thought of another morning, fall a year or two ago, when they were dropping their acorns thick as hail almost. There was all sorts of thrashing in the leaves and there were acorns hitting the pavement so hard they’d fly past my head. All this in the dark, of course. I remember a slice of moon, no more than that. It was a very clear night, or morning, very still, and then there was such energy in the things transpiring among those trees, like a storm, like travail. I stood there a little out of range, and I thought, It is all still new to me. I have lived my life on the prairie and a line of oak trees can still astonish me.
'I feel sometimes as if I were a child who opens its eyes on the world once and sees amazing things it will never know any names for and then has to close its eyes again. I know this is all mere apparition compared to what awaits us, but it is only lovelier for that. There is a human beauty in it. And I can’t believe that, when we have all been changed and put on incorruptibility, we will forget our fantastic condition of mortality and impermanence, the great bright dream of procreating and perishing that meant the whole world to us. In eternity this world will be Troy, I believe, and all that has passed here will be the epic of the universe, the ballad they sing in the streets. Because I don’t imagine any reality putting this one in the shade entirely, and I think piety forbids me to try.'
Some more excellent quotes can be found here and by pestering your favourite search engine.
If you haven't read this book yet, make sure you bury your nose in a copy of it as soon as possible!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
on personal essays
or, 'the importance of idleness'
Whilst actually doing my uni work, I was referred by my tutor to a wonderful essay by Robert Dessaix. Entitled 'Letters to an unknown friend', it tickled my fancy, and my inner idler, by dwelling on the merits of the personal essay and discussing how idleness is an important trait for the personal essayist to have or to cultivate. You're most welcome to skip the rest of my post and simply read Dessaix's essay, it's very well written and very engaging!
According to Dessaix, 'the essay is vital to a civilised life' - he refers to the humble personal essay rather than its academic cousin. 'The more personal kind of essay, the sort of thing we write just because we want to tell someone something, something we must find the words for now, before the moment passes'. Whilst I agree with his ideas, I must protest at the placement of his prepositions! He barely gets away with putting that 'for' where he has put it; I would have written, 'Something for which we must find the words now', but still, it is the sense of immediacy that is important, and perhaps that is better served in Dessaix's sentence.
He then goes on to consider idleness, and how the tendency to idleness should not be confused with indolence. He's quite right, though I don't think cats are indolent, as he suggests they are, because after all they're never really asleep when they're napping. The idle person may be preoccupied all the time, and yet not be busy, and in being idle, one can make one's haphazard way through the world, and enjoy leisured pensiveness, stillness, and take pleasure in the ordinary. I rather like these notions, they make me want to write personal essays, and to first do the necessary amount of idling.
Dessaix also laments the lack of actual communication that goes on in the world, and the demands of consumer culture that we should work and spend money, that there isn't the time for good conversation in cafes, and for writing essays, to have wonderful discussions on all topics with friends. Dessaix is not the only person to write on the importance of idleness, because Tom Hodgkinson does as well, in his book How to be idle, but that book hasn't the deliciousness of actually being about the nature of personal essays and the merits of writing said essays. I suppose blog posts are sort of personal essays, or some of them may be, it would really depend on the content. I like the idea of the time spent observing and reflecting that is required for essay writing, perhaps I ought to take it up, add it to my list of thoughtful things to do...
The online archive for the Australian Book Review is here. I strongly recommend that you spend time idling over these!
Whilst actually doing my uni work, I was referred by my tutor to a wonderful essay by Robert Dessaix. Entitled 'Letters to an unknown friend', it tickled my fancy, and my inner idler, by dwelling on the merits of the personal essay and discussing how idleness is an important trait for the personal essayist to have or to cultivate. You're most welcome to skip the rest of my post and simply read Dessaix's essay, it's very well written and very engaging!
According to Dessaix, 'the essay is vital to a civilised life' - he refers to the humble personal essay rather than its academic cousin. 'The more personal kind of essay, the sort of thing we write just because we want to tell someone something, something we must find the words for now, before the moment passes'. Whilst I agree with his ideas, I must protest at the placement of his prepositions! He barely gets away with putting that 'for' where he has put it; I would have written, 'Something for which we must find the words now', but still, it is the sense of immediacy that is important, and perhaps that is better served in Dessaix's sentence.
He then goes on to consider idleness, and how the tendency to idleness should not be confused with indolence. He's quite right, though I don't think cats are indolent, as he suggests they are, because after all they're never really asleep when they're napping. The idle person may be preoccupied all the time, and yet not be busy, and in being idle, one can make one's haphazard way through the world, and enjoy leisured pensiveness, stillness, and take pleasure in the ordinary. I rather like these notions, they make me want to write personal essays, and to first do the necessary amount of idling.
Dessaix also laments the lack of actual communication that goes on in the world, and the demands of consumer culture that we should work and spend money, that there isn't the time for good conversation in cafes, and for writing essays, to have wonderful discussions on all topics with friends. Dessaix is not the only person to write on the importance of idleness, because Tom Hodgkinson does as well, in his book How to be idle, but that book hasn't the deliciousness of actually being about the nature of personal essays and the merits of writing said essays. I suppose blog posts are sort of personal essays, or some of them may be, it would really depend on the content. I like the idea of the time spent observing and reflecting that is required for essay writing, perhaps I ought to take it up, add it to my list of thoughtful things to do...
The online archive for the Australian Book Review is here. I strongly recommend that you spend time idling over these!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
The Waves
"By hook or by crook, I hope that you will possess yourselves of money enough to travel and to idle, to contemplate the future or the past of the world, to dream over books and loiter at street corners and let the line of thought dip deep into the stream" - Virginia Woolf
Since I should be studying, this will not, I fear, be a well thought-out post, but I thought I should post something, because three months sans updating my blog is pathetic!
I have just started reading The Waves. It's not what I was expecting. Somehow Virginia Woolf's work is always different from one book to the next - properly growing as a writer, which is wonderful to see. (And encouraging for one's own reading, to notice it!) The Waves is set out almost like a play. In italics there will be description of the sea, a house, other surrounds. Then in regular type are the monologues of the cast, the six people the story follows through their lives. I love the dreamer Rhoda the most. Bernard started out very likeable, with his constant storytelling, but by the time he gets to university (which is where I'm upto now), he's so conceited! Constantly thinking about what his biographer will write about him, and so shaping his behaviour and writing by what other people think of him! Atrocious behaviour!
But then, what makes us think that people ever do things without feelings of self-consciousness? Are we not always thinking about how others see us? That's part of living in a community, isn't it? Part of being social creatures.
Still, I most like Virginia Woolf's advice that we write exactly what we like, and not use our craft to try and impress other people. What did she write exactly, Google? "So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. " Isn't it funny how the quote and what you've thought about the quote get muddled together in your mind...?
"No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself." -VW
Since I should be studying, this will not, I fear, be a well thought-out post, but I thought I should post something, because three months sans updating my blog is pathetic!
I have just started reading The Waves. It's not what I was expecting. Somehow Virginia Woolf's work is always different from one book to the next - properly growing as a writer, which is wonderful to see. (And encouraging for one's own reading, to notice it!) The Waves is set out almost like a play. In italics there will be description of the sea, a house, other surrounds. Then in regular type are the monologues of the cast, the six people the story follows through their lives. I love the dreamer Rhoda the most. Bernard started out very likeable, with his constant storytelling, but by the time he gets to university (which is where I'm upto now), he's so conceited! Constantly thinking about what his biographer will write about him, and so shaping his behaviour and writing by what other people think of him! Atrocious behaviour!
But then, what makes us think that people ever do things without feelings of self-consciousness? Are we not always thinking about how others see us? That's part of living in a community, isn't it? Part of being social creatures.
Still, I most like Virginia Woolf's advice that we write exactly what we like, and not use our craft to try and impress other people. What did she write exactly, Google? "So long as you write what you wish to write, that is all that matters; and whether it matters for ages or only for hours, nobody can say. " Isn't it funny how the quote and what you've thought about the quote get muddled together in your mind...?
"No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself." -VW
Sunday, December 12, 2010
oh our poor libraries!
There are many problems plaguing our university libraries, which many people do not konw about. One of them, as Robert Darnton explains in this New York Review of Books article, is the astronomical subscription costs to academic journals, which cost thousands of dollars.
Darnton ends his article with the hope that academic sorts of information from the US will one day be freely available to all, just as national libraries around the world are putting their collections online for all to access - these include the national libraries of the Netherlands, France, Norway, Finland, Japan and Australia. Darnton's call to change the commercialised control of information to an open and free system is heady and wonderful, and makes me hope along with him that we can 'Open the way to a general transformation of the landscape in what we now call the information society.' He states that we need a new ecology of information, 'One based on the public good instead of private gain.' And considering the billions of dollars in profits gained by publishers of periodicals, who often don't even bother to pay the academics who put in much hard reviewing and editing work, the public good has long enough suffered for the interest of shareholders!
Darnton ends his article with the hope that academic sorts of information from the US will one day be freely available to all, just as national libraries around the world are putting their collections online for all to access - these include the national libraries of the Netherlands, France, Norway, Finland, Japan and Australia. Darnton's call to change the commercialised control of information to an open and free system is heady and wonderful, and makes me hope along with him that we can 'Open the way to a general transformation of the landscape in what we now call the information society.' He states that we need a new ecology of information, 'One based on the public good instead of private gain.' And considering the billions of dollars in profits gained by publishers of periodicals, who often don't even bother to pay the academics who put in much hard reviewing and editing work, the public good has long enough suffered for the interest of shareholders!
Thursday, November 18, 2010
best bookish buying...
If you're looking for a book that has proved impossible to find in bookstores, try Better World Books for book purchases that help fun global literacy! I personally love this website, since you can get second hand books, pay just twenty cents for carbon offsets for the shipping, and at the moment not even have to think about the exchange rate difference! I've yet to see if the free chocolate is sent to Australia as well as in the US...
Oh books, books, books, in case you haven't noticed, I really love books!
Oh books, books, books, in case you haven't noticed, I really love books!
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Literary Melbourne
A delightful new addition to the realm of reading is Literary Melbourne: A Celebration of Writing and Ideas, edited by Stephen Grimwade. A great read, and, if you're one of those strange people who is stuck for reading material, this volume will certainly provide you with enough books to form a lengthy reading list. As the title suggests, the book follows Melbourne's literary history from the art and stories of the area's first habitants to the novels and poetry of the present day. It is particularly fascinating to see, through two centuries of white Australian writing, the change from a dependence on England for ideas and values to a focus on writing about life in Victoria in the early twentieth century, writing that reflected local mores, and then to the plethora of mulitcultural writings that have come out of Melbourne, and also the many children's writers that have lived and written in Victoria, as well as poetry, crime fiction and plays.
The difference between modern fiction and the works produced during the colonial era is made clear by Grimwade when he introduces the segment on modern fiction. He writes, '"Truth", in both fiction and history, became contentious territory as writers sought to represent both themselves and the inner lives of characters. The artistic culture was maturing and our writers and artists could be more provocative. Literature wasn't seen to be the place for simplified "nation building", especially in an era when the nation state was becoming a blurred concept. Novelists were less self-conscious about their nationality and, as the literatures of the world's cultures mixed with our own, Australian authors began to be read more widely across the globe.'
The chapter on migrant writing, in particular, has excellent, moving extracts from novels that reflect the hopes, regrets and realisations of those who have come to Australia from other countries. From Arnold Zable's Cafe Scheherazade we read, 'So join us, dear reader. Don't be shy. Here, have a slice of Black Forest cake. On the house. And a glass of red. Savour it. Feel the glow spreading over your cheeks. Allow the taste to linger in your mouth. It is a pleasant feeling, no? Are you comfortable? Sit back. Settle into your chair; and listen to bobbe mayses, grandma tales.' These 'grandma tales' recount the horror that awaited the Polish returning from armies and labour camps to what had once been homes, but were now, 'piles of rubble, twisted girders, the razed hamlets, the wastelands of defeat. Nothing could have readied them for the scorched earth, the ruined cities, the desecrated temples and shattered homes. This is when their stories began to be suppressed ... by an urgent need to forget, to bury the past and to rebuild their aborted lives.'
The difference between modern fiction and the works produced during the colonial era is made clear by Grimwade when he introduces the segment on modern fiction. He writes, '"Truth", in both fiction and history, became contentious territory as writers sought to represent both themselves and the inner lives of characters. The artistic culture was maturing and our writers and artists could be more provocative. Literature wasn't seen to be the place for simplified "nation building", especially in an era when the nation state was becoming a blurred concept. Novelists were less self-conscious about their nationality and, as the literatures of the world's cultures mixed with our own, Australian authors began to be read more widely across the globe.'
The chapter on migrant writing, in particular, has excellent, moving extracts from novels that reflect the hopes, regrets and realisations of those who have come to Australia from other countries. From Arnold Zable's Cafe Scheherazade we read, 'So join us, dear reader. Don't be shy. Here, have a slice of Black Forest cake. On the house. And a glass of red. Savour it. Feel the glow spreading over your cheeks. Allow the taste to linger in your mouth. It is a pleasant feeling, no? Are you comfortable? Sit back. Settle into your chair; and listen to bobbe mayses, grandma tales.' These 'grandma tales' recount the horror that awaited the Polish returning from armies and labour camps to what had once been homes, but were now, 'piles of rubble, twisted girders, the razed hamlets, the wastelands of defeat. Nothing could have readied them for the scorched earth, the ruined cities, the desecrated temples and shattered homes. This is when their stories began to be suppressed ... by an urgent need to forget, to bury the past and to rebuild their aborted lives.'
Friday, June 25, 2010
Read of late, and yet to read...
I have been reading Alice Walker, the black womanist writer and activist, who is by all accounts a marvellous woman, and I am honoured to be reading her thoughts and experiences - her words as a woman and a writer are very inspiring to me, and I feel that I want to write when I have read just a few pages of her work. Her wise words help one to be more aware of needing to have compassion and empathy for all humans, and the Earth itself, and to live with integrity, strength, and yet joy - a deep joy that carries us through the difficult and sad parts of life, as well as the better times.
Yet to read:
Journals and Papers: A Selection, Kierkegaard, published by Penguin. I have been wanting to read Kierkegaard ever since my sister Petra started reading his work for honours. I look forward to some stimulating, and, I'm sure, often challenging reading.
Revelations of Divine Love by Julian of Norwich. Technically, I have already started reading this, but only last night, and I am only a few pages in, so I do not want to rush into reflecting on this amazing work.
Orlando by Virginia Woolf, simply because her work is astounding in its simplicity and depth, even as she seems to use too many surface elements, as she seems to in The Voyage Out, which I am currently reading. My deep attraction to her work must come from something in there that touches my heart - I will write about it when it becomes apparent to me. These things cannot be rushed. [EDIT: I realised as I went to bed last night, that 'surface elements' was not what I meant to say, because it seems like 'superficial'; please think of 'signifiers' instead, of leitmotifs and cleverly wrapped truths.]
Her Blue Body Everything We Know, a collection of all of Alice Walker's published poetry from 1965-1990. I think I can only hope to be half as phenomenal as Walker, no matter how long I may live or what I may do. There is such strength and tenacity, and lashings of conviction, in the writing of black woman activists, it is in the work of Maya Angelou as well, a decisive step in the direction of true understanding between all peoples, and none of this imperialistic, patriarchal rubbish, of which the world has had too much, and stifles too many of those it purports to uplift.
Lastly, despite what some say about Labor's policies, and let us remember the Liberals' policies are not any better, and despite what some say that she should have waited until the election to run for PM, I was delighted and proud to see on television yesterday afternoon the swearing-in of Australia's first woman Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, by Australia's first woman Governor-General, Quentin Bryce.
This was an important and historical moment for our country. Tony Abbott really should have credited this at the start of his speech instead of immediately leaping into an attack on Labor's policies - we all know his opinion about those already - and now it seems he does not care about the need for our country to move towards equality of the sexes (one of my colleagues at work described him as misogynistic). I now look forward to the election more than I did a week ago, and I hope to see more equality between the sexes in this country, because it is still an issue, and still a struggle. Indeed, let us also not forget the need to work towards equality for Indigenous Australians and any and all immigrants and people of various religions, and sexual persuasions. Real acceptance and open mindedness seem to be missing in this country.
Yet to read:
Journals and Papers: A Selection, Kierkegaard, published by Penguin. I have been wanting to read Kierkegaard ever since my sister Petra started reading his work for honours. I look forward to some stimulating, and, I'm sure, often challenging reading.
Revelations of Divine Love by Julian of Norwich. Technically, I have already started reading this, but only last night, and I am only a few pages in, so I do not want to rush into reflecting on this amazing work.
Orlando by Virginia Woolf, simply because her work is astounding in its simplicity and depth, even as she seems to use too many surface elements, as she seems to in The Voyage Out, which I am currently reading. My deep attraction to her work must come from something in there that touches my heart - I will write about it when it becomes apparent to me. These things cannot be rushed. [EDIT: I realised as I went to bed last night, that 'surface elements' was not what I meant to say, because it seems like 'superficial'; please think of 'signifiers' instead, of leitmotifs and cleverly wrapped truths.]
Her Blue Body Everything We Know, a collection of all of Alice Walker's published poetry from 1965-1990. I think I can only hope to be half as phenomenal as Walker, no matter how long I may live or what I may do. There is such strength and tenacity, and lashings of conviction, in the writing of black woman activists, it is in the work of Maya Angelou as well, a decisive step in the direction of true understanding between all peoples, and none of this imperialistic, patriarchal rubbish, of which the world has had too much, and stifles too many of those it purports to uplift.
Lastly, despite what some say about Labor's policies, and let us remember the Liberals' policies are not any better, and despite what some say that she should have waited until the election to run for PM, I was delighted and proud to see on television yesterday afternoon the swearing-in of Australia's first woman Prime Minister, Julia Gillard, by Australia's first woman Governor-General, Quentin Bryce.
This was an important and historical moment for our country. Tony Abbott really should have credited this at the start of his speech instead of immediately leaping into an attack on Labor's policies - we all know his opinion about those already - and now it seems he does not care about the need for our country to move towards equality of the sexes (one of my colleagues at work described him as misogynistic). I now look forward to the election more than I did a week ago, and I hope to see more equality between the sexes in this country, because it is still an issue, and still a struggle. Indeed, let us also not forget the need to work towards equality for Indigenous Australians and any and all immigrants and people of various religions, and sexual persuasions. Real acceptance and open mindedness seem to be missing in this country.
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