Saturday, 17 April 2010
You start to wonder if it will ever end. Actually I started to wonder that before Christmas and it still goes on.
In years gone by my mum used to say that we needed a good cold snap to kill off all the bugs. Well we had that this year and it didn’t seem to work.
The clocks changed, the days warmed, the sun shone but still the bugs marched on. You get over one thing only to be floored by something else and if you’re not floored by it, you’re worrying about those that are.
I was going to write about the debate – you know the one, it’s been picked over more than the bones of a turkey at Christmas, but I think it has all been said.
Then I thought I’d write about writing, but in all honesty what hasn’t been said about it? There are some terrific blogs out there that do it a lot better than I could.
My Writer’s Forum dropped through the letterbox this week and I thought I’d review that, but I haven’t had time to open it yet.
Just read the Motorcycle Diaries by Ernesto Guevara. I have his other diaries to read, but have put them aside for later. Every once in a while a book comes along that gets me deep inside. Wild Swans was one, The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists another and the Motorcycle Diaries will join them.
And now I am reading The Coffin Dancer by Jeffrey Deaver. Gripping isn’t the word – I am half asleep now because I couldn’t put it down last night.
I was talking with a friend this week about books we’ve read. She said another friend remembers every book she’s ever read – and she’s in her eighties.
It occurred to me that the books I remember well and will never forget are the very ones that line my shelves at home. I remember them and I keep them to read again. Isn’t that the mark of a good book? You want to read it again even though you know how it will end?
There are many books I’ve read and enjoyed, but the enjoyment has been wondering what would happen and I see no point in reading them again. Those I keep and enjoy again and again are the ones with characters that are so real, I want to stay acquainted with them.
Characters like Atticus Finch, Maggie Moran, Dolores Claiborne, Paul Edgecomb – I could go on and on. But most of them are ordinary people, real people.
And haven't the daffs been lovely this year?