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On My Book Table… 2 – The Chunksters…

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I’m pleased to report that the Reading Chair and the Book Table have proved to be a great success chez Ramblings (well done, Mr. Kaggsy!) I have spent many a happy hour sitting comfortably with a book and a beverage; though alas, I don’t think I’ve tackled a single volume featured in my previous post about the table… That’s fairly typical of me, and I do have the excuse of the forthcoming 1930 Club which has necessitated some focus on the year in question. However, I thought I would share some images of what’s weighing down the table at the moment as possible reads – and they *are* quite chunky books!!

That’s a fairly imposing and daunting pile of books, isn’t it? Shall we take a look in more detail??

These two titles are on the book table for a good reason, i.e. the forthcoming #1930Club. I’ve mention John Dos Passos before, but not the Bunting (although of course I *have* wittered on about Basil on the Ramblings). All will become clear next week, hopefully…. 😉

Now – these three have been sitting around on the TBR for a while. “Imaginary Cities” (from Influx Press!!) was a Christmas gift from my brother some years back; “Night Walking” came into the house when Verso were having one of their oh-so-tempting sales; and the John Muir was a purchase on a whim because I wanted it (so there!) Having just watched a repeat of a documentary on Muir (which I somehow missed first time round) I’m keen to pick it up soon. We shall see…

These two lovelies are a little slimmer, but still very appealing. The Binet was on my book table last time, and has been on the TBR for as long as the Muir, as they arrived at the same time. The Colette is a beautiful edition of an anthology of extracts from her work, called “Earthly Paradise”. Apparently it’s now out of print and not at all cheap to get hold of – who knew? Makes me even more certain I must be careful about which books I prune when I pass some on to charity shops.

A mixed bag here. Two are newly arrived at the Ramblings – “Seashaken Houses” is all about lighthouses (I love lighthouses) and I resisted it for ages in Waterstones and then gave in. The Cunard book sounded fascinating (I can’t remember where I heard about it) and as the local library didn’t have it, I was left with no choice… I’ve had the Shklovsky for ages and keep meaning to start it and don’t – story of my life, really…

More new arrivals, this time from the very lovely Notting Hill Editions. I reviewed John Berger’s book “What Time Is It” recently; it’s the final book of three published by NHE which he did with Selcuk Demirel. I was knocked out by “Time…” and so was delighted to receive the two earlier books “Cataract” and “Smoke” – such treats in store… The third book in the picture is a selection of Montaigne’s essays; I’d often thought of reading him and then Marina Sofia’s post pushed me over the edge. Thanks so much, NHE! :DD

Another three chunksters lurk on the table, again books that I’ve had around for a while. “Liberty” is about French Revolutionary women; “Romantic Outlaws” is about Mary Wollstonecroft and Mary Shelley; and “The Wives” is about spouses of Russian authors. I long to sink myself into all three at once, which is really not practical…

And finally, a couple of slim volumes which weren’t on the pile in the first image, but have managed to sneak into the house despite Mr. Kaggsy’s best efforts (ha! not really – I think he’s given up worrying about the books, realisiing he was fighting a losing battle…) “Nagasaki” is thanks to a post on the BookerTalk blog – I loved the sound of it and couldn’t resist. “Doe Lea” is VERY VERY exciting! It’s a limited edition chapbook short story by M. John Harrison (who is a big favourite here on the Ramblings as you might have noticed..); and it’s a signed copy, one of only 200. Goodness, I went into overdrive when I found out it was available. Most pleased that it arrived safely and can’t wait to read it, yet don’t want to because I want to savour it!

Well, there you are. The Book Table is groaning a little under the weight of all these mighty tomes, and of course “The Anatomy of Melancholy” seems to be in permanent residence there helping to add to the tonnage. With my fickle mind I may not actually end up reading *any* of these next; but it’s lovely to get my books out, have them on the table, flick through them and just *enjoy* having them around! The pleasures of being a bookaholic… ;D

“Teasing makes time trip up.” @NottingHillEds #johnberger

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What Time Is It? by John Berger and Selcuk Demirel

John Berger needs no introduction on the Ramblings; I’ve written often about this wonderful polymath thinker, and most recently on his thought-provoking book Confabulations. I’ve also regularly sung the praises of Notting Hill Editions and their beautful hardback editions. So the fact that the two come together in a new book has got to be a bonus! In fact, NHE have previously published two books by Berger and Demirel (I really must get hold of these…) and this final collection is something of a tribute to Berger. As the introduction by editor Maria Nadotti makes clear, the two men had discussed producing a book on the theme of time; Berger’s death came before this could be done. However, Nadotti has selected quotes from Berger’s work which Demirel has illustrated and result is just marvellous.

Nadotti, having worked on Berger’s texts over the years, is convinced that “Time” is the recurring theme of his art. Certainly, the quotes she’s selected are varied, thought-provoking and really intriguing; as someone who’s not read that many of his works, I would have been interested in knowing from which work each piece was chosen. But that’s by the by. Each quote is accompanied by one of Demirel’s illustrations, and they really are excellent. The blurb tells me that he’s a Turkish artist now based in Paris, and I can well believe that he’s much in demand. His images are quirky, colourful, thought-provoking and really quite beautiful. Nadotti describes the concept as being of the text and illustration walking together hand in hand, and they really do seem to do that.

Narrative is another way of making a moment indelible, for stories, when heard, stop the unilinear flow of time.

You can see example on the cover of the book; and here’s another – so clever and memorable, and yet they’re all so different.

As for Berger’s words, well they reflect many of the concerns I’ve picked up in his other books. The telling of stories; the passing of life; and of course politics and the inequalities of the world.

Migrant workers, already living in the metropolis, have the habit of visiting the main railway station. To talking groups there, to watch the trains come in, to receive first-hand news of the country, to anticipate the day when they will begin the return journey.

As always, Berger’s words resonate…

“What Time Is It?” is a thoughtful little volume, which I’ve found myself dipping into and going back to; not only to revisit Berger’s words of wisdom but also to study Demirel’s illustrations. Berger’s meditations on time are fascinating, reminding us that it often seems a fluid concept – five minutes until the end of a hated school lesson always seemed so much longer than the five minutes left until you were having to stop a pleasant occupation! The blurb describes the book as an “essay in pictures” which I think is a wonderful way of putting it. The works of Berger and Demirel illustrate and complement each other, and in 106 pages say a lot more than many weightier volumes! Another lovely volume from Notting Hill Editions, which I highly recommend!

(Review copy kindly provided by the publisher, for which many thanks! “What Time is It?” is published today.)

Books and fun – locally!! 😁 #thomasbernhard #simonarmitage #mishima @i_am_mill_i_am @NottingHillEds

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Normally when I share days out meeting friends, lunching and book shopping it means that I’ve had a fun day in London. However, I had an equally lovely day yesterday as my dear friend J. popped over to visit me and we had a great day out in the local Big Town!

Of course, I’m a regular in the local charity shops but they were new to J., so we had a wonderful browse round them, as well as finding some new and interesting crafty shops in an area of the town I don’t normally visit. Lunch was at the amazing Hank’s Deli, a recently-opened vegan place in town – I’ve become something of a regular there!

J. had some great finds in the various shops (and there also were stationery purchases…) Bookwise, however, I was restrained(ish) – I had some library reservations to pick up for a start:

There’s been a lot of buzz on Book Twitter recently about Bernhard thanks to that pesky Andy Miller mentioning him. I’ve been interested for a while so to save the creaking rafters of the house, I reserved a couple of titles from the library to see what I think of him.

As for the charity shops, I remained unscathed until we hit the Samaritan’s Book Cave. There were many temptations in the poetry section, but I restricted myself to a couple of Simon Armitage books I don’t have.

I love Armitage’s writing so these were a real find!

So restrained, for me – until I remembered that I wanted to pop into Waterstones. A particular book had come out that I thought I’d preordered and hadn’t and I wanted to see if it was there – which it was! Our local branch is particularly well stocked…

I’m very excited about this one, as I’ve been rediscovering Mishima of late (as you might have noticed…) – and it’s a very pretty edition bought from a bricks and mortar bookshop – yay me! 🤣🤣

So a lovely time was had by us both and it just goes to prove that you don’t always have to travel far to have a nice day out! 😁

Oh – and as a coda, I may have forgotten to share this recent arrival from the lovely Notting Hill Editions!

Isn’t it beautiful? And as a dog lover, an anthology of writings about our faithful friends is going to be something special for me! I’m looking forward greatly to reading this one; and watch out later this week for a review on the Ramblings of another gorgeous volume from NHE! 😀

Erasing the line between literature and science @ajlees @NottingHillEds

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Mentored by a Madman by A.J. Lees

One of the things I love about small and indie publishers is the sheer variety of books they publish. I love the quirky or the unusual or the frankly left of centre, and there’s often little of that to be found from mainstream books nowadays. A favourite imprint is Notting Hill Editions, and I’ve read and reviewed any number of their beautiful hardback essay collections – they really are a treat. However, they publish some of their works in very lovely paperback editions, with French flaps and slightly deckled edges; and a fascinating volume popped through my door recently, which turned out to be a quite marvellous, stimulating and rather unusual book!

The book is subtitled “The William Burroughs Experiment” which is actually the key to what this book is about. Lees is an award-winning neurologist, currently serving as Professor of Neurology at the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery, Queen Square, London and University College London. According to Wikipedia, he’s been named in the past as the world’s most highly cited Parkinson’s disease researcher, and a quick look down their entry for him reveals that he’s been responsible for a number of breakthroughs in the treatment of that disease, as well as overseeing all manner of different branches of research,

“Mentored…” is a kind of memoir, where Lees looks back over his life and career, pinpointing the various junctures in his life where he’s had lightbulb moments, gone down dead ends, come back to follow a different path to then make those imaginative leaps that take research forward into uncharted territory. And running through all of this is the presence of author (and addict!) William S. Burroughs, creator of the alarming character of Dr. Benway, amongst other manic medics! (Here’s Burroughs/Benway in action – not for the faint-hearted!)

So taking your medical guidance from WSB might be regarded as the height of madness (which I suppose is where the title of this book comes from!); however as Lees reveals, while tracing his career, Burroughs actually turned out to be a surprisingly good guide when it came to exploring the possibilities of developing new drugs for use in the treatment of Parkinson’s. In particular, WSB’s championing of apomorphine (which he used to wean himself off junk) eventually lead to Lees exploring the use of that drug for treating the effects of Parkinson’s with some success…

Lees and Burroughs never met, though the former was an avid reader of the latter, and in later years made contact with a number of Burroughs’ friends and associates, often in serendipitous ways. And Lees obviously regards the presence of Burroughs in his life to be a constant, a thread always returned to and always providing guidance. As the author traces the line of his life and career, that willingness of Burroughs to look outside the box is reflected in Lees’ desire to explore the unusual and use his intuition, as well as refusing to be hidebound by bureaucracy when it comes to research; a tendency which has obviously borne fruit!

As a layperson, I did wonder whether I would be a bit overwhelmed by jargon when reading this book (a worry that has made me a little nervous also about approaching Oliver Sacks; coincidentally a friend and contact of Lees). However, the narrative is always clear and understandable, and absolutely fascinating. I followed Lees’ attempts to find solutions for his patients as anxiously as the families involved must have, cheering at successes and disappointed by set-backs; it’s an involving read. Lees also draws on the history of his field, looking back at the work of those who came before him; and reveals the influence, perhaps surprisingly, of Sherlock Holmes! One particularly valuable aspect seemed to be Burroughs’ understanding of the form addiction takes in humans, which was particularly relevant when Lees was dealing with addition issues arising from some treatments. As Lees reminds us:

He believed that all humans were hard-wired to be insatiable wanting machines. Sugar, laxatives and even shoplifting had the potential to become external objects of false satisfaction. Provided a novelty factor was introduced almost anything could be turned into a consumable. Corporations increased their stranglehold on the masses by alluring advertising. Junk was the ultimate merchandise and, in his paranoid but prescient world, a part of the global conspiracy.

Looking around at our rabid capitalist society, he’s not wrong, is he? 😦

What shone through very forcibly, however, was Lees’ humanity; at the root of all of his work is his care for his patients and (a rarity in my experience) he feels strongly that those being treated deserve compassion, understanding and respect. He also decries the control exerted by the pharmaceutical companies, who are only motivated by making huge profits and whose interests restrict the research process. It’s nowadays harder to take risks or imaginative leaps to try to find better cures for disease simply because if there isn’t big money in it, the companies have no interest. He laments the high prices they charge for some drugs, and certainly I’ve seen issues surrounding colleagues who need a particular medication but it’s expensive or impossible to source because of the control of the manufacturing companies. Lees rightly lambasts rigid, inflexible thinking and the concern only for money being the factors which control the development of new medicine, and he’s right; imagination and inventiveness are needed for exploration, and that’s sadly lacking nowadays, with attempts at innovation being drowned in red tape.

… I felt uncomfortable about a system where money was made out of illness and where the patient was treated as a customer. The company knew the price but not the value to the patients.

“Mentored by a Madman” was an absolutely fascinating read, and even if you know nothing about Burroughs I think you would get a lot out of this book (though personally, I read tons of his work back in the day and I’m a huge fan of his dark, dry wit and drawling delivery). Lees comes across as a humane and committed man, determined to do his best for his fellows and obviously frustrated by the modern money-men and the outsourcing of the NHS. As well as that, the book reflects the times, from the opening steps of his journey in the 1960s through the changing times of the end of the twentieth century and into our corporate modern world. I’m old enough to remember some of that, and it made me realise that although we’ve made many gains with progress, we’ve also lost so much individuality.

And, very importantly, Lees writes marvellously, proving that science and literature can combine in a work of art. His compassion shines through, his erudition is worn lightly and his book is never less than engrossing. “Mentored by a Madman” is not a book I would necessarily have stumbled across had it not been for Notting Hill Editions, and I can’t recommend it highly enough – a wonderful, subversive, enlightening and often moving reading experience.

(Review copy kindly provided by the publisher, for which many thanks!)

*****

Whilst noodling around online in prep for this post, I came across a number of interesting interviews with, and videos featuring, Andrew Lees talking about his life and work and books. These two – a conversation, and a reading plus interview session at Shakespeare and Co – are particularly fascinating for anyone wanting to explore further. There’s also plenty of Burroughs online, but you can find that yourself! 😀

 

 

“They have loved reading”. @NottingHillEds #VirginiaWoolf

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Essays on the Self by Virginia Woolf
Introduced by Joanna Kavenna

I guess it was going to be a given that, having been drawn back to Virginia by my wonderful read of “To the River”, I would want to pick up something Woolfian pretty soon. Fortunately, I had this beautiful little collection of essays standing by, courtesy of Notting Hill Editions, and it was just the thing I needed…

The book was actually issued in 2014, and I’m not sure how I managed to miss it at that time, since I do follow the Notting Hill releases keenly. This is one of their Classic Collection volumes, beautifully presented as always with cloth-covered hard boards, high quality printing and production standards, plus a lovely integral bookmark. So an aesthetically pleasing item in its own right!

The most elementary remarks upon modern English fiction can hardly avoid some mention of the Russian influence, and if the Russians are mentioned one runs the risk of feeling that to write of any fiction save theirs is a waste of time. If we want understanding of the soul and heart where else shall we find it of comparable profundity? (Modern Fiction)

As for the contents, well this is Virginia Woolf so it’s going to be good… The collection draws together essays by Woolf that consider the ‘self’ in all its variations: from the self of the artist, the social self, the self behind the mask, how the artist maintains their sense of self in the face of all odds, and so on. Taking this kind of thing as its stepping off point, however, the works featured here range far and wide over the rights of women, modernity, the future of the novel, the art of specific authors and so on. Woolf is never dull, and whether writing novels, short stories, letters, diaries or essays like these, her language is captivating and her linguistic flights unmistakable.

… reading, you know, is rather like opening the door to a horde of rebels who swarm out attacking one in twenty places at once – hit, roused, scraped, bared, swung through the air, so that life seems to flash by; then again blinded, knocked on the head… (A Letter to a Young Poet – Woolf on the effect of a good book…)

I confess I always feel a little inadequate when I’m writing about Virginia Woolf; so much has been written about her, she herself was a peerless author, so whatever can I bring to the table? Nevertheless, I’ll give my thoughts for what it’s worth… And first up I must say that this collection served to remind me just how glittering and brilliant Woolf’s prose really was; I’ve never read anything like it, and I don’t think anyone else could ever write like her. The way she plucks the most unlikely imagery out of the ether and spins a sentence that knocks you sideways is unparalleled. There are so many examples in just this slim collection, and when I think of the body of work she left behind I get quite speechless. When you think of the periods of illness she suffered and the relative shortness of her life, the achievement is even more immense.

The art of writing, and that is perhaps what my malcontent means by ‘beauty’, the art of having at one’s beck and call every word in the language, of knowing their weights, colours, sounds, associations, and thus making them, as is so necessary in English, suggest more than they can state, can be learnt of course to some extent by reading – it is impossible to read too much… (A Letter to a Young Poet)

As usual, I can’t really pick favourites, as each essay is marvellous; I’ve read several before, including “Modern Fiction” and “A Letter to a Young Poet”, and I would say they’re even more of a delight on a return visit. A particular treat, however, was “Evening over Sussex: Reflections in a Motor Car”, where Woolf allows several selves to argue the toss around her, whilst capturing vividly the sensation of driving through the countryside. It was published in “The Death of the Moth”, which I’m sure I have and which I’m sure I’ve read, but this wasn’t that familiar. It was stunning, however!

I have sometimes dreamt, at least, that when the Day of Judgement dawns and the great conquerors and lawyers and statesman come to receive their awards – their crowns, their laurels, their names carved indelibly upon imperishable marble – the Almighty will turn to Peter and will say, not without a certain envy when he sees us coming with our books under our arms, ‘Look, these need no reward. We have nothing to give them here. They have loved reading.’ (How Should One Read a Book?)

The selections in this lovely volume range from 1919 to December 1940 – so not long before Woolf’s tragic death; that last piece, a short extract from her diary where she reiterates her individuality, is particularly moving (but then nowadays I tend to find everything about Woolf moving). And reading this collection certainly makes me feel like immersing myself in her peerless prose for a while. Poignantly enough, I found that as I was making my way through the essays I could hear them in my head; I have a copy of the surviving recording of Woolf and her tone and inflection had obviously lodged in my mind so that the words I was reading were being replayed as if in her voice. It was a very odd experience, but added to the joy of reading this.

Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

There are a lot of collections of Virginia Woolf’s essays available (including some Complete volumes which I am gradually collecting…) However, they can be a little overwhelming, and I can recommend this lovely Notting Hill Editions book as a great way to start with her non-fiction. It contains some of her most important essays, gives a real sense of the variety and range of her writing, and the erudite introduction by Joanna Kavenna is a fascinating adjunct to the essays. I really don’t know how I missed this one first time round, but I’m so glad I caught up with it now! 😀

Review copy kindly provided by the publisher – for which many thanks!

Arrivals and depatures – an update on the state of the book piles! :D

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Those of you who follow me on social media may have noticed the odd image or two recently which might just have indicated the continuing arrival of books at the Ramblings. I cannot lie – they have been creeping in the door when Mr. Kaggsy’s guard is down (or in some cases getting delivered at work). And in the interests of full disclosure and more Gratuitous Book Pictures, it’s only fitting that I share them with you… ;D

Charity shops, of course, making things impossible for the book lover – I guess I should just stop going in them. However, even being as stringent and selective as I have been lately, these have made it past my barriers! The DeWitt is one I’ve wanted to read for ages, so a cheap copy in the Oxfam was irresistible. And Clive James’s essays cover all manner of topics of interest to me. The Finn book is another one riffing on “Three Men in a Boat” – well, I adore the original and so anything that takes that as a starting point is going to be interesting. And Mark Steel’s humourous take on the French Revolution sounds like it might have hidden depths – most intriguing.  As for “New Writings in SF” – well, thereby hangs a tale…

Lurid cover or what!!!!

In the Oxfam yesterday they’d obviously had a donation of a good number of vintage sci-fi titles including lots of “New Writings in SF”; so of course I had to check these out to see if there were any authors I was particularly interested in. If I’m honest, I was looking for uncollected M. John Harrison, as many of his early stories were in these volumes, and I wasn’t disappointed. One book had a story which reappeared in “The Machine in Shaft 10” so I left that behind, alas; but volume 14 had a story called “Green Five Renegade” and I was pretty sure it was new to me. Thank goodness for the ISFDB and a phone with data; a quick search revealed that the story has only been in anthologies so I snapped it up, particularly as it’s an early one. It cost a little more than I would usually pay which I guess reflects its rarity, but it *is* in really good nick. I would’ve liked to bring them all home – so many interesting authors! – but I had to draw the line somewhere…

There there is Verso and their rotten end of year 50% off sale. Quite impossible to resist and I settled on these two titles:

The Benjamin/Baudelaire combo is a no-brainer of course; and I borrowed the Adorno from the library and was intrigued, so was happy to get my own, Reasonably Priced, copy.

Has there been online buying? Yes, I’m afraid so, in the form of these:

A couple of books about Dostoevsky; Rousseau on walking; Proust short works; and a novel of the French Revolution. What’s not to love??

This also came from an online purchase:

I’m always happy to support indie publishers, and Salt are one of the best so I decided to splash out on another of their poetry titles. Why this one? No idea – I liked the sound of it and I liked the cover! I’ll report back on the contents….

And finally, I’ve been spoiled by some review books from a couple of lovely publishers:

Notting Hill Editions, who produce the loveliest essay collections and intriguing titles, sent me a volume I’d somehow missed of Virginia Woolf’s “Essays on the Self”; I can’t wait. “Mentored by a Madman” is a new title which draws on the influence of William S. Burroughs. I read *a lot* by the latter back in the day, so I’m very interested to see what this one is about.

And the three titles by or about Jozef Czapski are from NYRB; another author new to me but one whose work sounds absolutely fascinating. Thank you, lovely publishers.

That’s quite a number of books, isn’t it? Lest you imagine the Ramblings to be collapsing under the weight of printed paper, however, I should reassure you that I *am* being sensible and pruning books I’m never going to read or revisit; a process that’s surprisingly a bit easier than I expected. Here’s just a couple of boxes of books which will be winging their way to the Samaritans Book Cave soon. So hopefully the house won’t collapse any time soon! ;D

“Silently we unlatch the door….” (Thoreau) @NottingHillEds @MinshullDuncan

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Beneath My Feet: Writers on Walking
Introduced and edited by Duncan Minshull

I’m not sure if this is setting the tone for 2019, but I seem to be starting off the year with non-fiction; mind you, I’m always happy to have an excuse to read one of the lovely volumes produced by Notting Hill Editions. I’ve covered a number of their books on the Ramblings as well as for Shiny New Books, and they’re always a delight. What’s not to love about a beautiful little cloth-bound edition on quality paper with inspiring content? And when I saw that this volume was coming out I was particularly keen to read it; “Beneath My Feet” is an anthology of pieces by famous writers on the subject of walking, and as an inveterate walker I may well be the ideal reader!

Walking, as is well-known, does tend to stimulate the brain and so you would expect authors to want to walk whenever possible (and I confess that though I’m no author, I’ve certainly composed plenty of sentences for the blog while striding on my way to work – which does cause havoc when I have to stop halfway to write them down…) Many of the writers here are well-known for their peregrinations, particularly Thoreau, Dickens and Will Self. Others, like de Quincey and Rousseau, are perhaps not such obvious candidates for inclusion in this kind of book. Yet all are stimulating, thought-provoking and make fascinating reading.

Health and salvation can only be found in motion… (Kierkegaard)

Editor Minshull has chosen some really interesting writers and selections of their work on which to focus, and it was a pleasure for me to be introduced to ones new to me. John Muir’s descriptions of the heat of California were compelling, and reminded me that I have a chunky volume of his work on the shelves;  James Boswell‘s encounter with odoriferous Edinburgh was very funny; and William Hazlitt‘s desire for solitude very refreshing. Thoreau inevitably makes an appearance in his own right, but is also a recurring touchstone for many of the other writers. I empathised with George Sand and her need to move anonymously through the crowd, and cheered her choice of men’s clothing to enable this. The brilliance of Virginia Woolf goes without saying, and the extract from her “Street Haunting” reminded me that I have a number of VERY BIG volumes of her essays that I really should get round to…

Give me the clear blue sky over my head, and the green turf beneath my feet, a winding road before me, and a three hours’ march to dinner – and then to thinking! (William Hazlitt)

I was particularly taken, too, with the piece by Will Self; he takes a walk back to a hotel in night-time Glasgow and pins all manner of ponderings onto it, and it’s fascinating and thought-provoking. I had forgotten how much I enjoy Self’s non-fiction works; I have both of his “Psychogeography” collections and they’re endlessly entertaining. And the final extract, a beautiful piece of writing by Kafka, was most unexpected.

Interestingly, the book’s blurb reminded me that Duncan Minshull had previously edited an anthology of walking scenes from classic fiction, entitled “The Burning Leg”; and indeed I have a copy of this which I read pre-blog. I recall it as being just as interesting as this collection, and they’d make ideal companions.

It’s easy to take the act of perambulating and turn it into something mystical and significant – as Minshull says:

The thing is, you can take something simple like walking and imbue it with lots of conceits and rituals. Then it becomes an imaginative act, like questing for a pencil.

Nevertheless, we are a species which for much of our existence relied on our feet to get us around our world; it’s only in relatively modern times that we’ve had the means to speed around the world at a rate of knots, and up until the invention of mechanical aids we moved at whatever pace we could manage. There’s most definitely a number of arguments to be made in favour of going back to walking as much as we can: it’s better for our health, it’s infinitely better for our poor, battered planet, and by slowing our pace to a walk we’ll see that world properly again instead of speeding past it and losing our connection with nature. The writers featured here, old and new, were very much aware of the benefits and rewards of walking; and this wonderful anthology will go a long way towards reminding its readers just how important it is to get out-of-doors and use Shanks’s pony! 😀

Many thanks to Notting Hill Editions for kindly providing a review copy – much appreciated!

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