I saw Call Me By Your Name twice. Once, after work in a near empty cinema with a bag of caramel popcorn and no knowledge of what I was about to see. I cycled home in the rain, buoyed by the heady images of an Italian summer: arts and classics and introspection and lust and swimming and […]Read more "Books to read after watching Call Me By Your Name"
Wakefulness, darkness that comes with the inability to sleep, “the silent realms” (as Virginia Woolf calls it). Insomnia. A romp through literature, culture, and her own bed, Marina Benjamin’s memoir Insomnia found me in the deep hours of the night, plagued by the pursuit of sleep. Not chronic insomnia, that awful mistress that so many suffer from, […]Read more "The Silent Realms"
It’s the flash and glare, the speckle, the flare of colour refracted through the camera lens that simultaneously blinds and binds me. The haze of a dawn, with the sky shot through; the shadow and the shade, the soft movement of time tapped out across a blank wall. I watch and wait for it to […]Read more "Stacks that Shine (or, Illuminating Literature)"
Writing and Art: intertwined and side by side, they speak so closely to one another it’s almost as if the two whisper – sharing ideas and pages, characters and settings and style. Flashes of delight in the mind and a residue of thought. There’s always been care taken when it comes to cover design, but […]Read more "Inspired by the Writing of Virginia Woolf"
A new Murakami is a strange and wonderful thing. A tome, destined to be read by millions and perfectly formed as a material object – bound in circles, that seemingly constant shape that seems to run throughout his work, and echoed across dust covers and paperbacks alike. How does one begin when writing about the […]Read more "Killing Commendatore"
I finished rereading A.S. Byatt’s The Children’s Book. Last time I read it I wrote myself a hangover cure: visit the V&A museum, take up pottery, frolic in the English countryside, read Peter Pan, drink tea, sleep. So, behold, a collection of cures for that book that made you suffer: the best of the reading remedies. Normal […]Read more "Reading Remedies (Part IV)"
It began with her face in marble mosaic, walked upon by thousands each day, in the entrance hall of The National Gallery. Next was Durga Chew-Bose’s title of her essay collection, lifted from the her Diaries. And then it was that twitter account – Vita & Virgina Bot – serving tweet sized samples from the […]Read more "On Youth, Woolf, and The Man Booker Prize"
Back to work after six long weeks of doing nothing but reading – I would laze in bed and emerge only when I’d turned the final page. Or I took my coffee into the patch of morning sun and shift my body, hot and sleepy, across the room as it rose and turned into a […]Read more "Summer Reading (a reflection of sorts)"
I finished rereading A.S. Byatt’s The Children’s Book. Last time I read it I wrote myself a hangover cure: visit the V&A museum, take up pottery, frolic in the English countryside, read Peter Pan, drink tea, sleep. So, behold, a collection of cures for that book that made you suffer: the best of the reading remedies. My […]Read more "Reading Remedies (Part III)"
A collection of thoughts after re-reading Too Much and Not the Mood (transcribed from marginalia): Writing is a return. The luxury of small moments at home. Sumptuous perfumed moments of language. Prose over plot. Always. Yet, there’s sisterhood to be found in friendship. A certain kind of love for my friends: awe and obsession and […]Read more "Transcribed from Marginalia: Too Much and Not the Mood"