A short-ish update (You know me...)

It's now under a week until I leave for university. Facebook and Twitter are humming with university posts. Many of my friends moved in this weekend, so today's speciality has been pictures of beautifully decorated university rooms. I have some plans for my own room: I have two rolls of 'Poetry on the Underground' posters, one of my cosy IKEA rag rugs, and a box of multi-coloured, flower-shaped fairy lights. 

(By the way - where does the phrase 'fairy lights' come from? Is it old? I like it. It makes the fire-risks and all that seem a lot less realistic)

Half of my belongings are now in bags and boxes ready to travel. This has not been an easy process. I am a hoarder. I invest deep stored emotions in everything I won. Throwing things away for me is like being Voldemort and throwing away your Horcruxes. Still, the process proceeds, and this move is becoming more and more real. At the same time, we are preparing to move house as a family, and my long suffering Dad has just painted my new room in the exact specification of red-y orange I demanded, a sort of Heinz tomato soup colour. I have decided that I do not feel at home without my orange walls, so although I shall have to survive without them at university, I'm glad that for at least the next few years there will be somewhere familiar, and orange, for me to return to. For some strange reason, other people do not seem to appreciate the radiance of my orange walls. Each to their own.

So what is, or where is home? Moving to our fifth house, it's a question that's ceased to both me. Around the age of thirteen, and living in my least favourite house, I took to reading with great care the property sections of the newspapers, and grading the houses based on whether I'd live there or not, and preference. My ideal house had at least six bedrooms, looked beautiful, ideally included a study, pool and attic conversion, and sat in the middle of a sprawling landscape garden, stables optional. It was a vindictive, childish way of hinting at my parents that what they'd provided wasn't good enough, and it makes me wince to think back to it. Thirteen is a difficult age. But then we moved to our current house, and I turned fourteen, and stopped reading the property section. The worst thing you can do is long for things you can't have, especially whopping great grade-II listed mansions. 

Our family has two mottoes when it comes to 'home'. Firstly, and most importantly, home is where your family is. Secondly, home is where you make it. It could be a flat in Cornwall, a castle in Yorkshire, a suburban semi in London, but as long as we were all there, safe and sound, it could become home for us. More than that, 'home' isn't the building, or the locality: it's where we find ourselves in each other, where we belong. This makes 'homelessness' worse: not only are you without the physical comfort of a shelter, you loose the sense of belonging attached to shared living and to an extent, property ownership. Alden Nowlan, a wonderful Canadian poet, ends his poem 'He sits down on the floor of a School for the Retarded*' with these wonderful lines: 

'It's what we all want, in the end, to be held, merely to be held, to be kissed (not necessarily with the lips, for every touching is a kind of kiss.)  

Yet, it's what we all want, in the end, not to be worshipped, not to be admired, not to be famous, not to be feared, not even to be loved, but simply to be held.  

She hugs me now, this retarded woman, and I hug her. We are brother and sister, father and daughter, mother and son, husband and wife. We are lovers. We are two human beings huddled together for a little while by the fire in the Ice Age, two thousand years ago.'

These lines never fail to bring me reassurance and comfort. If you're interested in reading the full poem, I found it online here. The Selected Poems of Alden Nowlan was one of the first poetry books I ever bought myself, so it's very dear to my heart :') 

So my physical home is changing drastically, splitting into my university home and my 'base', with my family, but I'm not loosing anything. In fact, I think I'm gaining more than I'll miss. I really love my home here, in my little town, but not one but two new homes offers me the chance for a complete, fresh start. The chance to live the adult life I've been dreaming of and become the person I aspire to be, starting again with a clean slate. Besides which, I am completely in love with Norwich, and I can't wait to live there. The first time I stepped onto the campus I had an instinctual feeling that this was where I am meant to be, and God's been so good to me, guiding me this far. I honestly doubted I'd get there, but I shouldn't have. He's got me under his wing. I think I'll be okay. 

So next time I update this blog - unless I get really bored during the rest of the week - I will be somewhere new! I love the idea of a new landscape and a different setting to work in, with new inspirations, a different atmosphere. (I promise not to use the word 'new' again now, okay!) 

As always, thank you for your patience, your time, and your forgiveness for my enthusiasm for the semi-colon, hyphen, and bracket. 

Until then, God bless.

J.R. x 

* Retarded - This was written in 1982, so no offence meant. 

Backdated books review: LOTR, Rattigan, Economics, Owen Jones, Rilke, and other such ramblings

August 2012

I've been rather lazy with this page. When I realised I couldn't set it up to do individual posts - as on the main page - I went off the idea a little. However, I have been re-inspired to write something at least up about what I've been reading. 

My main project for this summer was to read the Lord of the Rings. The sheer scale of Tolkien's world, with its millions of avid readers, its fanfiction, films and appendices, really intimidated me - I was convinced it would be a whole-summer reading marathon, trekking through interminable passages listing the genealogy of elves. For those interested, there are interminable passages listing the genealogy of elves (and humans, dwarves, the Numenorians etc), but the story itself isn't overwhelmingly difficult. I can understand that some people might not get into it, but I was gripped. For days I raced through the familiar journey, watching Frodo and Sam struggle across Ithilien and revelling in the sheer beauty of the story. It has a wonderful epic quality, a richness of language, which is unsurpassable. I read all the appendices and spent days discussing the lineage of the dwarves with my Dad, who is a long-time Tolkien lover, and fully intended to go and read all the additional books, but then I got distracted reading other things, so I am yet to discover the history of the Second Age  of Middle Earth and that sort of thing. Perhaps its better this way. When you read the Lord of the Rings, you realise you're just skimming the surface of Tolkien's life work, the culminating event in the glorious history of Middle Earth. It's only fair that it should take a lifetime to read it, and savour the pleasure. 

Since then I've read a variety of new things and old. I finally read a Terence Rattigan play, The Deep Blue Sea, which I'm still thinking about, and I'm reading 50 Economic Ideas You Really Need to Know, one economic idea at a time. The idea is to try and make myself sound more intelligent when I'm arguing with politics students. So far, I'm eight ideas in, and I can refer to things like the 'invisible hand of supply and demand' with alacrity. The '50 ideas' series are the most fantastic books for sounding smart at short notice. I read '50 Literature Ideas You Really Need To Know' just before my A-Level exam, and I think it helped. Maybe. I'm slightly terrified that when I start university next month everyone I meet will genuinely understand these things, so I'm trying to polish my few nuggets of knowledge in the brief time left before I start packing... I've also been re-reading Sherlock Holmes for relaxation, because like most literaturish students I'm in love with him. 

Strangely for me, I haven't yet finished my holiday reading books. It's a tradition in my household that we each buy a novel or two for holiday reading, and this year I asked for Owen Jones 'Chavs: The Demonization of the working classes' (non-fiction), Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke, and The Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus, also by Rilke. I'll start with the book of letters. Written to aspiring poet Franz Kappus in the early half of this century, this selection of ten letters from Rilke to Kappus is inspiring, uplifting, encouraging, and life affirming. I felt, as I'm sure most readers do, that Rilke was talking directly to me. For a manual on how to write, on God and on life, they are essential reading, and I can this book becoming part of my 'Desert Island Discs' kit - the book, after Shakespeare and the Bible, that I'd want beside me when I feel lonely or lost. 
This brings me on to the Duino Elegies and the Sonnets to Orpheus. I haven't finished the Sonnets yet, so I can't really comment on them. I don't feel qualified to comment on anything Rilke created, so all I can say is this: read them. Read them slowly. Read them on buses, and then listen to the conversation the people behind you are having about them, having seen you reading them. (You have to turn the pages every now and then so they don't realise you're eavesdropping.) If you can, read a bilingual translation so you can appreciate the rhythms and rhyme scheme which are totally destroyed in translation. Go away and learn German then read them properly.* Love them. Do not worry too much about understanding them. 

I bought the wrong translation of the Elegies and I am contemplating going and buying another translation because I think the phrasing is slightly better. This is how obsessive and lit-geeky I feel about them. (If you're interested: I have the Stephen Mitchell translation, which is good, but I'd prefer the Martyn Crucefix translation. So. Sad.) 

I haven't finished Owen Jones Chavs yet. It merits slow reading. Discussing attitudes to the working class in Britain, it is a truly challenging book, taking on many common misconceptions, from social to statistical. It suggests links between cause and effect, prejudice and reason, and argues strongly for the case that that social ills are a symptom of, rather than the cause, of Cameron's 'Broken Britain'. As you might have guessed, it's an angry left-wing work, with plenty of reasoned criticism of the Conservative governments of the last few decades, especially Margaret Thatchers' government. Jones also levies a fair amount of criticism of the labour party under Tony Blair, and is careful to present a reasoned and valid case for all his arguments. It is the sort of book that could be questioned, but it's a useful springboard for a groundwork of understanding the problem of class in Britain today. I feel it could do with - or at least, I'd appreciate - some more political theory to support the statements it draws from case studies and statistics, but the point is that the book is popular politics, designed to be accessible to everyone, so the absence of theory is justified in its premise. A highly qualified political commentator, Jones presumably has argued through the more academic side of his arguments and is confident that he could, and I think often has, support them when required to. It is, in any case, a useful and informative book, and the authority of Jones' arguments has for me been confirmed by the instances where he speculates about the future and his speculations have been confirmed by events since the book was published around two years ago. He's another person I'd love to meet, as our views seem very similar. The only other thing I'd nitpick about the book is the poor organisation of his arguments. It's a little hypocritical of me to complain, given the rambling nature of most of my blog posts, but I feel the book could have done with a plan setting out a miniature argument and conclusion for each chapter and then sticking rigidly to it, like an academic essay. Perhaps the book was planned like this, but if so, it's been hidden cleverly so as to create a general impression with each chapter rather than a logical, joined-up-the-dots argument. If there's one thing Critical Thinking AS Level did for, it was to make me pedantic about being able to trace argument structures, and it's often quite hard to follow the thread in Chavs. 
Nevertheless, it's definitely worth reading. It might not leave be more informed, or better at social arguments, but it will leave me with a genuine desire to challenge class perceptions and my own inherent prejudices. I have to read it in small chunks because it makes me want to hit people who vote Conservative,** but underwritten in the text is a genuine desire to make the lives of others better, and educate the uneducated - the degree-holding classes...

Soonish I will (hopefully) have a reading list for University, so that'll probably take up most of my time. I'm going to have to learn to think again! :D 

Until then, I have two main things on the go. I'm going to read Julius Caesar, because I saw the RSC production on TV and really liked it, and I'm going to read Les Miserables. Today, on the 7th or 8th book of the first principle book of the story, one of the main characters was finally introduced...more on that when I get there.

Until then, keep reading :D I always like book suggestions so please send me some!
J.R. 


*This one is still a work in progress. 
**Which isn't nice. Please don't stop reading if you vote Conservative. I love you really. 

Backdated book review: I, Claudius

May 2012

I have just finished Robert Graves' 'I,Claudius'. Written in 1934, this is a fictionalised autobiography of the fourth Roman Emperor, Claudius, whose superior mind and physical disabilities allow hs survival in what must be the most murderous, perverted and despotic family in all history. Claudius is a fascinating character and an excellent narrator - so good that before I did my research, I mistakenly thought this was a translation of a genuine Roman autobiography (oops!). An austere-looking hardback, I was convinced that I would find it boring, and only picked it up to confirm that it was as boring as I thought it would be, although I admit aerily mentioning obscure books I have read was also a motivational factor... The book was far more readable that I ever imagined, and also far more famous - it was made into a very successful television series with Derek Jacobi as Claudius in the 70's - so neither of my preconceptions came true. I'm really glad I did pick it up though; it's been a long time since I've read anything quite as engaging and fascinating as Graves' masterpeice. I would highly recommend it to anyone interested in reading something beyond their A-Level set texts - it's not hard work, but it is very rewarding reading :)