It does seem typical, doesn’t it, that just when I’ve made some new friends, life recrudesces and I must go away and be a decent human being for a few days. I know not if I shall be able to post – after all, people don’t get broadband so their visitors can lock themselves in the study with the computer and reduce their friendly interaction to bellowing requests for more tea through the keyhole. I will be back on Saturday or possibly Sunday, depending on the vagaries of the British workman and/or ASLEF member.
The conviction is growing upon me that I am not doing as many book reviews as I had always meant to. I have only done one so far. It is not a wondrous record. I think the problem is that I enjoy reading too much.
[Long pause while the Gentle Reader considers the bizarreness of that last statement. As do I - Ed]
I blame my parents. [Oh, really.] Very well then, I shall blame Organised Religion. Or in my parents’ case, Disorganised Agnosticism With Excess Childhood Scarring. Both my parents read a great deal and encouraged reading. My step-father, however, was suspicious of books and tended to jibes and sarcasm. My mother’s side of the family, being Catholic, view doing anything for the sheer love of it with disfavour, unless of course you happen to be suffering a great deal and your love has a martyred and self-sacrificing flavour. My father got into the habit of mocking my taste in literature and trying to force me to read Dostoevsky [She still hasn't read Dostoevsky. Nice one, Dad]. Friends and boyfriends were almost universally resentful of the amount of time I wanted to spend clearly enjoying myself all on my own without any help or input from them. While I am indeed a bloody-minded and selfish person who still jolly well insists on reading lots, I can’t quite shake the feeling it is bloody-minded and selfish of me to do so [I would have put her down as door-mat-like to the point of being exceedingly irritating]. How idiotic that I could have got to the grand and magnificent age of thirty and still feel I need a mystical permission to spend my free afternoons as I damn well please.
[What she really wants is for you all to beg her to do more book reviews. I wonder what she'd do if you all begged her not to?]
Hello, I looked here earlier and you had some comments. Where did they go? You shouldn’t feel bad about wanting to spend time reading – friends and relations will just have to accept that this is how you like spending your time. Reading is good!
There’s nothing wrong with reading. And if you want to review books, go ahead and do it. I have found that I’d rather pick up the next book and start on it than try to write a review. But that is me. By the way, I read Dostoevsky and think he is over rated.
Where are my comments? Where the heck are my comments? Here I am, miles away from One’s Own Computer, unable to log on to the admin part of my blog, and all my lovely lovely comments (which I read this morning and was being deeply chuffed with) have folded their tents like Assyrians.
I am BLOODY ANNOYED.
I am trying frantically to remember my log-in so I can SORT THIS OUT.
Sorry about this, people. The Seagull of Fate is clearly Crapping on the Sandwiches of Destiny again.
Well, I want to read your reviews. I rekon that not only will you be interesting about the content, you’ll be knowledgebly informative about the way it’s written. And generally amusing as always. In fact, I’ll be looking forward to it.
The editor has deleted them in a huff, perhaps?
Well, at least my vanished comment inspired you to say: “The Seagull of Fate is Crapping on the Sandwiches of Destiny”! That made me laugh out loud! I will remember that expression the next time my computer is playing funny so-and-so’s with me (every day, unfortunately…)
And I still want to read your reviews!
Oh, I want to read the reviews too. I find a lot of great reads from perusing other people’s recommendations. I just don’t want to have to write them myself. Lazy, I know.
Also loved the seagull thang… but did Assyrians actually fold up their tents?
Didn’t they not in fact live in the great cities of Mesopotamia?
Just trying to help.
Was the biblical phrase you were thinking of actually ‘to your tents, O Israel?’
Re: The Mysterious Vanishing Comments:
I have had a message from my ISP saying that yes, indeed, server number 10 (I think it was) had a spasm on Saturday afternoon. And all the comments fell down the back of the counter and no one could fish them out again. However, because I am a cleverclogs, I had duplicates of them all sent to my personal email (and hence to another server). So I am copying and pasting them here. So there. Undefeated, mexican wave moment.
Oh, and Az? I meant Arabs. Arabs fold their tents and silently steal away. Any idea, anyone, where that quotation comes from? Because I haven’t.
The Rescued Comments:
‘>so their visitors can lock themselves in the study with the computer and reduce their friendly interaction to bellowing requests for more tea through the keyhole
Now, that is priceless. Rofl!
And, I learned a new word. ‘Recrudesce’. Now I just have to work out if I can pronounce it – and seemingly natural ways to throw it into conversations.
And, by all means, let’s have some book reviews
Oh – and I just stumbled over one more possibly meaningful quote:
“We do not write because we want to; we write because we have to.” W. Somerset Maugham’ – Ole
‘Please, Reed, do more book reviews. Under *no* circumstances should you feel guilty for reading!’ – David B. aka the Singing Librarian.
‘I like book reviews too! Please write lots of them!
(And I know the feeling, I went on a guilt trip yesterday afternoon for reading on the sofa while my baby played with a Tim-Tams packet at my feet).’ – Helen
‘We don’t want book reviews from you, we want books!
What if blogging gets you so used to instant positive feedback that you can’t write anything of reasonable length without periodic audience testing? (Not that that need be a problem – worked for Dickens.)
Or do you think it would it take away your justification for, ironically, writing about writers’ block (you wicked Derridean, you)? Don’t worry, there’s always more block.’ – Ed.
P.S. Ed – I think the server-quake was your fault for mentioning Derrida.