Manchester

Well, dear reader, I went to a seminar about ebook production, where Nigel Marsh (Publishing Operations Director for Faber & Faber) told us everything there is to know. I was going to write a long blog post about ebooks… but then I changed my mind. I might do something like that later, but for now I’m just going to show you some pretty pictures.

Chorlton Mill, home of the International Anthony Burgess Foundation

The seminar was held at the International Anthony Burgess Foundation. This is a strange beast. I’m not sure what it eats, or how it spends its time (perhaps it is a vegetarian, and simply grazes on the buddleia which is rampant on the nearby wasteland). It lives in Chorlton Mill, which has evidently been done up as offices and/or living spaces, and is an imposing building.

A ceiling made of bricks

While in the belly of the beast listening to Mr Marsh’s wise words, I was occasionally distracted by my surroundings. In particular, the ceiling. Who in their right mind would make a ceiling from bricks? It must have been a nightmare to build, and you’d have to be damn sure the mortar is strong enough to keep the bricks (which, I would remind you, are reasonably heavy, and would cause quite a dent in one’s skull were they to descend upon one’s head from a great height) in place. It’d only take one of them to wriggle free and you could have a hole in your ceiling and a dead person on your floor.

There were also some pretty cabinets dotted around the walls of the beast’s belly… presumably to hold its hoard of gold and jewels.

A carved cabinet

Another carved cabinet (actually it's the same one, but I couldn't get close enough to any of the others to take photos)

And then on the way back to the station I noticed this bit of wall. It was easy to take a photo as I didn’t have to juggle my umbrella and my camera at the same time – it’s under the railway bridge.

Wall and Cone

I think it’s something about the colours in this that particularly appealed to me. And the decay.

On the way home I felt ill. It wasn’t much fun, but I got a bit of work done, and a lot of looking out of the window. It’s a beautiful train journey, across the Peak District. One scene that stuck in my mind was a cemetery, graves neatly laid out in rows, right next to an allotment, plants neatly laid out in rows. There’s a poem in that…

Jesus dying on the cross, looking down on... Jesus's birth...

Directly in front of me was a scene that gave me the creeps. Stop me if I’m wrong, but isn’t it a little odd to represent the saviour at both ends of his life and have both representations of him looking at each other? Perhaps it’s some kind of metaphor for something… I dunno.

Then I looked over at the pipe organ – a most beautiful beast, precariously perched high above the floor where the mere mortals walk, held up by only two concrete arms (presumably reinforced by steel girders). And I looked a bit closer, and realised that the blessed thing has a baby set of pipes in its belly, looking for all the world like the pregnant Barbie doll whose tummy you can take off to see the offspring curled up inside.

During the interval I investigated the various memorials – there were some lovely examples, and I couldn’t resist taking photos. These are a couple of my favourites.

He might have only had a few friends, but they thought a lot of him

Not sure why, but this one made me giggle

I couldn’t get a decent photo of my outright favourite, so I’ll transcribe the text for you.

Sacred to the memory
of
LIEUTENANT JAMES STILL R.N.
who
in the 22nd year of his age
fell a victim to the ravages of the Yellow Fever
on board His Majesty’s Ship THE PHEASANT
while stationed off SIERRA LEONE
on the 12th of October 1821.
For four successive years
he had been employed in the fatal service
of enforcing obedience
to that sacred Law, which, to the honour of his Country
and in the spirit of Christian Love
forbade
the Traffick in Human Blood.
That he possessed the best feelings of the heart
was manifested in his unwearied watchfulness over those
whose aid he was in sickness
and who
withering like the blighted shoots of Spring
left their blessings upon him.
That he was endued with the spirit of Enterprise
was proved by the testimony of those
who had witnessed his skill and admired his gallantry.
That he was characterized by suavity of temper and prepossesing manners
was apparent from that regard, excited in every breast
which held him forth as an Ornament of Social Life.
How beloved a Son! How endeared a Brother! How esteemed a Friend!
is evidenced
in the poignant grief of his sorrowing Family
in the unfeigned regret
of many who cherish the remembrance of his worth
and in the heartfelt Tribute
of Him
who
dedicates this Tablet
to the Memory of his Virtues.

Plenty of food for thought there.

I just realised. I’ve lived in Nottingham for more than half my increasingly long life now, and have only been inside Nottingham churches four times, and all of those times in the last twelve months. And… three of those times were East of England Singers concerts!

1. Submit some poems for publication
Hopefully this one will be easy, as I’m currently doing the Nottingham Poetry Series manuscript preparation course, and part of the coursework is to submit at to least six individual publications and at least one pamphlet competition. The teacher gets very crabby if we don’t do our coursework…

2. Be nice to myself
Especially when I get floods of rejections from poetry journals… Seriously though, I have to start living by the rule “I will be good enough most of the time, better than good enough a lot of the time, and crap some of the time. And that’s OK.” I’ve spent most of my life expecting nothing less than the best I’m capable of at all times, beating myself up when I don’t manage it and not feeling proud of myself when I do. It took a lot of cognitive behaviour therapy for the idiocy of that to sink in.

3. Lose some weight
I’m heavier now than I’ve ever been – even when I was pregnant. That is Not Good. So I’m going to do something about it – eat sensibly and get some exercise. I’m not going on a diet, that doesn’t work for me. I’m just going to make sure I don’t stuff myself with crisps and biscuits when I’m bored (not getting bored might be a good start, I guess). And I’ve just joined the University sports centre, and arranged to play badminton on Sunday afternoon. I know that’s going to hurt. Hopefully it’ll be fun too.

4. Sort my house out
It’s a mess. No, not that sort of mess. A real mess. I have stuff piled up all over the place, and it’s driving me mad. I tend to take up hobbies, get loads of bits and pieces related to those hobbies, and then stop doing them but keep all the bits and pieces just in case. I also have far too many books. YES, I did say I HAVE FAR TOO MANY BOOKS! I am going to throw away, give away or sell anything I no longer need, and make some space in my house where I can work (i.e. not on the collapsing sofa in front of the tv).

5. Spend more time with the hairy brats
They’ll be leaving home soon… (hoorah? sniff sob? can’t decide!)

6. BLOODY RELAX, WOMAN!*
I’m getting horrendous stress headaches once or twice a month at the moment. My back and shoulder and neck muscles tense up like you wouldn’t believe, which leads to the top of my head exploding and shooting pains behind my left eye. This lasts for 3 or 4 days, which is how long it takes me to un-tense myself. #2 hairy brat’s elbows are the only things so far** that can get anywhere near untying the knots. It would be much easier if I didn’t get so tense in the first place – I don’t know why it’s happening, I’m not feeling particularly stressed these days…

* what my ex shouted at me in ante-natal classes when the relaxation exercises weren’t working.

** apart from Laressa Dickey’s massages, but she lives in Portugal.

TS Eliot's Four Quartets

I read a section from East Coker – the second Quartet, and also coincidentally a village just down the road from where my mother lives in West Dorset. I persuaded her to take us there on a ‘fact-finding mission’ last Easter.

Images of East Coker

Nox by Anne Carson

I wanted to fill my elegy with light of all kinds. But death makes us stingy. There is nothing more to be expended on that, we think, he’s dead. Love cannot alter it. Words cannot add to it. No matter how I try to evoke the starry lad he was, it remains a plain, odd history. So I began to think about history.

Wow.

Tune in again this time next year* for my pick of 2012′s reading material. I’ve already got 8 books on my list, one of which might make it to my favourites and two of which definitely won’t!

*or you could carry on reading throughout the year to see what mad schemes I get myself involved in, if you like…

Reamde by Neal Stephenson

Yellow Blue Tibia by Adam Roberts

The Night Of The Mi'raj by Zoe Ferraris

The Killing Jar by Nicola Monaghan

And that’s nearly your lot. I’ll reveal the last two books tomorrow. In the meantime, I’m keeping a proper list of all the books I read this year as I read them, so my ‘Favourite Books of 2012′ list will hopefully not have to be generated by racking my brain and scrabbling around in my bedroom. At the moment I’m reading Quantum: A Guide for the Perplexed by Jim Al-Khalili, which won’t make the list even though I’m enjoying it immensely. That’s probably a topic for another day.

1Q84 on the Kindle

In summary, the story is a perfect example of speculative fiction – what would happen if there were a parallel universe where past events had happened slightly differently, and two people were somehow transferred there, after which everything becomes gradually more complex and surreal.

The year is 1984. Shortly after the murder mentioned above, Aomame realises something’s wrong when she notices policemen carrying guns and is told this is due to a massacre at a cult’s compound a few years previously, which made front page news yet she is sure never happened. Then she notices a second moon in the sky. She christens the year 1Q84 – the Q stands for ‘question’ – and is determined to work out what’s going on. Tengo is thrown into strangeness when he agrees to ghostwrite a ‘fairy story’ originally written by a teenager known as Fuka-Eri so his editor can win a prestigious literary prize. He can’t work out how much of the story is actually true. Somewhat frustratingly, we aren’t told much about this story until very late on in the book, and even then we don’t see much of it… I wonder if Murakami (or his publishers) intend to bring it out as a novella in a year or so…

The main characters are totally engaging and it’s a beautiful story beautifully told. Take this quote (which I highlighted on my Kindle – a stupidly fiddly process – but that’s a post for another day), for example:

There was an inexhaustible source of clouds in some land far to the north. Decisive people, minds fixed on the task, clothed in thick, gray uniforms, working silently from morning to night to make clouds, like bees make honey, spiders make webs, and war makes widows.

Is that not beautiful?

I’ve bought the real books, as I will definitely be reading them again and I want to do it properly next time. These are bloody amazing. Read them. You won’t regret it.

Flatland by Edwin Abbott was published in 1884, and tells the story of A Square. Square lives in Flatland, a two-dimensional universe, and is blind to the social repression and discrimination of his land until he discovers Lineland, Spaceland and Pointland.

I’ve been meaning to read Flatland for ages, and I’m so glad I finally got round to it this year – it’s social satire at its best.

The inhabitants of Flatland are polygons – regularity is all-important and the number of sides determines class and occupation.

In 2D, how can you tell the difference between a Pentagon and a Triangle? Think about it!

Triangles are craftsmen or soldiers, Squares and Pentagons are professionals, and Hexagons and above are nobles. Irregular shapes of any sort are considered deformed, and are either ‘cured’ by being bent back into shape or euthanised.

Square learns about the third dimension when he meets Sphere, and his eyes are opened to the possibility of yet higher dimensions. Sphere himself cannot comprehend this, and returns Square back to Flatland in disgrace. Poor old Square tries to explain to his countrymen about Spaceland, and is slammed in prison for his troubles.

The Planiverse takes a joyfully geeky angle on the scenario, examining the implications of life in two dimensions in exhaustive detail. The premise of the book is that Dewdney and his students create a computer simulation of a two-dimensional world, and to their surprise they discover that the world is populated by a complex society of vaguely humanoid people. Yendred, a young male, can somehow communicate with the research team through the computer, and he is more than happy to take them with him as he journeys east in search of wisdom.

Diagram of Yendred's innards

One of the most fascinating diagrams - Yendred's house - underground, of course

I love these books. Both are still in print, and should be read one after the other. Go get them from your local independent bookseller or library, and blow your mind.

The Night Circus, by Erin Morgenstern

The title page

the back jacket... note the ribbon bookmark

As I hope my photos demonstrate, the book itself is an example of how innovative design can lift a story from the very good to the extraordinary.

black page edges

Even the end papers are themed

Letter Fountain, by Joep Pohlen

Originally published in Dutch (in several editions), Taschen published an English language edition this year. Its design is exactly what a book should be – clear and restful – and the attention to detail makes it a joy to behold and to hold. The contents are a geek’s delight, divided into three sections which tell you all you need to know about how type works, display specimen types in exhaustive detail, and tell the history of typography.

Here are some pictures for you to drool over.

Section 1 - The Type

Another spread from Section 1.

More from Section 1 - timeline showing the evolution of European typography

Section 2 - The Typefaces

Another spread from Section 2 - showing alternative typefaces for Bembo

Spread from Section 3 showing a timeline of type founders

Is this not a thing of beauty?

I want to make books like this.

The Dreaming Void, The Temporal Void and The Evolutionary Void by Peter F Hamilton

What you do need to do is keep your wits about you. The basic premise is reasonably straightforward. There is a black hole at the centre of the Commonwealth’s galaxy – the Void – that has some strange properties, most concerning of which is it has ‘devourment phases’ where it expands and gobbles up any star systems in the vicinity. This is Not A Good Thing, and Must Be Stopped.

However, there are many strands to the story, including:

• a religious sect who plan to send a pilgrimage of 25 million people into the Void, and don’t care if this triggers another devourment phase
• a rite-of-passage story about a young boy who lives in a place where telepathy and telekinesis are commonplace
• a mega-tycoon and his daughter who emerge from a post-physical state to re-clothe themselves in ‘meat’ bodies, in an attempt to prevent a new devourment phase
• a waitress who has just divorced her husband and is discovering the delights of being single in a world where one person can inhabit multiple bodies
• a man who has been programmed to carry out a task by all means necessary, but he doesn’t know what that task is

…and there are at least four more threads I can think of. They all come together eventually, one after the other, to a perfectly satisfying conclusion. Part of the reason I love these books is that I could work out some of the connections, but others came as a complete surprise. I have absolutely no idea how Hamilton’s mind works – how on earth does he manage to populate the whole universe with believable technologies and characters and political systems and… well… loads of stuff that surely can’t come out of the imagination of one man? Not only that, it all fits together perfectly. I am envious.

The scope of this trilogy is not just BIG, it’s incomprehensibly ENORMOUS. I listened to it in the car and while cooking, at the same time as reading two other enormous books. This could have resulted in a mental implosion as I tried to keep two bundles of storylines straight in my head at once. However, Hamilton’s storytelling is so masterful that I had absolutely no trouble keeping up with what was going on in the Void universe. I think it’s a good job I was listening to rather than reading the books, otherwise I’d have been holed up in my bedroom for a week or so unable to tear myself away. As it was, I did a lot more cooking than I strictly needed to.