Me: When I was little, we had no computers.
Mr. Waffle: And there was no such thing as a DS.
Me: Or a mobile phone.
Michael: Did you have scissors?
Not Metaphorically but Literally
We have sown new grass in the back garden. It is growing very slowly. There are still large bands of brown earth. As I looked up the garden from the kitchen, I commented to Mr. Waffle, “It’s definitely greener over there at the end of the garden.” “Famously,” said he.
Reading
“The Child that Books Built” by Francis Spufford [New Year’s Resolution]
This is an intellectual look back at reading in childhood and adolescence. It’s divided into four parts: the forest (stories for younger children – fairytales and picture books); the island (fantasy for the 7-12s) the town (books set in communities, again, for 7-12s) and the hole (books for adolescents with a strong focus on science fiction). I found this a bit underwhelming at first but I really started to enjoy it when he began to talk about books I had read as a child. Here’s a bit on Narnia:
So from the moment I first encountered “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” to when I was 11 or 12, the seven Chronicles of Narnia represented essence-of-book to me. They were the Platonic book of which other books were more or less imperfect shadows. For four or five years, I essentially read other books because I could not always be rereading the Narnia books.
He has a lot on Narnia and Little House on the Prairie which is fine by me but I wonder how engaging it would be to those less familiar with the books. I suppose it is aimed at people who were bookish children and it’s a rare bookish child who wouldn’t have read these.
He mixes up his reading with some limited information about his personal life and I’m not sure how well that works. I think he would have been better with more personal life or none at all.
“City of Thieves” by David Benioff
A book club book. Alas, it did not appeal. Though a mild page-turner it is pretty poorly written. It’s about a hunt for eggs during the siege of Leningrad in the second world war (though so much more than this, universal themes love, friendship etc – write your own blurb). They get their eggs. Yeah, I know, I’ve ruined it for you. My friend D, who is a country girl, tells me that hens are very fussy about laying eggs and she thinks that the chance of them not being off their eggs in war torn Russia in the middle of winter is nil.
“Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage” by Alice Munro [New Year’s Resolution]
Famously beautiful short story writer writes beautifully. I prefer my stories with more zing and less quiet gloom but these are good stories.
“The Beautiful Changes” by Molly McCluskey [New Year’s Resolution]
I read this collection (a novella and a collection of short stories) at the same time as I was reading the Alice Munro collection and it didn’t do this author any favours. She covers much of the same territory as Alice Munro, small lives and tending towards the gloomy and she’s really very good but not as good as Ms. Munro.
“The Sense of an Ending” by Julian Barnes
Clever. And very short. Something of a page-turner. But I was left a bit dissatisfied either a) that wasn’t much of a twist or b) I didn’t get it. You can see why neither of these options appeals.
“Carry Me Down” by M.J Hyland [New Year’s Resolution]
Nicely written somewhat disturbing account of an 11 year old boy who is teetering on the brink of insanity. Wouldn’t exactly rush back for a second dose but I can see its merit.
World’s Most Nostalgic Six Year Old
Michael: I don’t want those socks, they’re too small and prickly.
Me: OK, we’ll get you another pair. Maybe it’s time to retire these.
Michael: NO, no don’t retire them. My socks! My beautiful socks! Don’t throw them out.
Me: But Michael, they’re too small what do you need them for?
Michael: To look at in the drawer.
If it were up to Michael, nothing would ever leave the house.
Hungry
Michael eats nothing at dinner. Now he says he can’t sleep at night. When we go into him he announces dolefully, “I have a hunger problem.” Tell me he’ll grow out of it.
Nice, Polite Boys
I was in Cork alone (!) recently. As I sat in to my seat on the train back to Dublin with my newspaper in my sweaty little paw, I was distressed to see that every other seat in the carriage was reserved for school boys. As it happened, 13 year old school boys from my husband’s old school. I felt that my quiet reading would be disturbed.
But I had nothing to fear. Mr. Waffle had always assured me that his old school was full of nerds but I didn’t really believe him until the moment I saw the young men pull out their chess boards and timers and start playing while singing Ave Maria. Unless Ave Maria is sitting high in the charts at the moment, I find this detail particularly baffling.