Two years ago I said this:

“I want to try and work past an issue I have where the feeling of being daunted by starting a new book (all those pages ahead of me…) means that it takes me time to get into the book. I need to get better not only at just starting and getting past the first pages – after which the issue disappears and I’m away – but also a (potentially) related issue, which I’ve spoken of before, where I never really take in the first page or so. Yes, this, despite my interest and focus on first lines.”¹

I didn’t really think about anything much to do with books beyond trying to keep my podcast going in the last two years but what I do know is that the above topic is very relevant right now because a couple of days ago I sat down to read Voyager, struggled, and got annoyed with myself that I have this problem. So I’d like to try again.

When I think about it more, this problem extends; I have trouble getting past the first few pages in one sitting. I’ve the issue of the first page (usually), and then the issue of the extra daunting nature of the first few pages as a whole, up to 20 pages in fact. It’s one thing to think about reading, to blog, to write, to create social media posts and podcasts, and another entirely to actually read. Reading is, in its way, lonely and isolating (though I would say in general not² – it’s just that act of sitting down and reading when you’re not reading aloud). I don’t know why 20 pages (every so often 30) is the boundary which, once crossed, I’m away, but it is.

Trying to get back to the book world and, particularly, right now, into what readers are thinking and feeling about books, I’ve noticed that more and more people are citing the problem of a dwindling attention span. And that attention span seems shorter every several months I read about it, no matter who from. Critical reading seems more in jeopardy, too. Social media is great, and I’m enjoying the difference of TikTok, but it’s certainly making its mark. However, I think just as much to ‘blame’ is the increased connectively in terms of connecting to other readers, which I know sounds awful of me to say because it’s so much easier now to find other readers than it was and I’ve benefited from making friends online who read; I had friends who read before, but we never spoke about books (I tried!) But that connection, wonderful as it is, ironically means we spend more time talking about it (or watching it) than doing, because, as said, to watch and talk is to interact, and to read, whether beside another reader or not, is still a bit of a solo bubble.

I think I need to suggest to my friend another read-a-long…

And that’s going to have to be my conclusion because this has to be the most ‘musings’ musing post I’ve ever written and I think it’ll take a bit of time before I’m my old self at this whole thing again!

Footnotes

¹ 2021 Goals and 2020 Data
² I’ve written about it on Andrew Blackman’s blog, with a follow up on my own blog.

In 2020 I read 57 books. Twelve were by men, 45 were by women. Fourteen were by non-white authors. Four were collections, 2 non-fiction, 17 re-reads. I didn’t read any poetry – I do have one at the ready but didn’t manage it for it to count for the year. I’d like to improve those numbers, particularly I’d like to read more, but I’m going to go careful.

Something very noticeable was the number of new books I read: the most numerous year was 2020 (11), the year of the reading, somewhat understandable with the podcast but I didn’t expect it to be quite as many. The furthest-away year was 2007 (1), which is utterly rubbish; I need to do better there. Further numbers: 2019 (7); 2018 (7); 2017 (8); 2016 (9); 2015 (1); 2014 (1); 2013 (2); 2012 (2); 2011 (1); 2010 (2); 2009 (3); 2008 (1).

I have ummed and ahhed over setting goals. I have ended up with three, and two are different to all other years. I pretty much failed last year’s goals but I think that’s true for a lot of us! Last year’s goals were as follows:

1. Read more by month, looking at shorter periods of time rather than the longer period of a year: I didn’t do the former, but did do the latter. Going by two weeks at a time all the time really emphasised the passage of time – for quite a while, the slowness of it.
2. Read more classics of all kinds: failed completely.
3. Thackeray: it’s still on the list.
4. Read Dragonfly In Amber: I didn’t actually get a copy until very late in the year; I’ve been purchasing very little and present-giving events were small. Thanks to my Second Mum, as I call her, I now have a copy and hope to get to it soon.

So, this year, I’d like to read at least one classic. I’ll be seeing the word ‘classic’ in terms of ‘older classic’, because at the moment I don’t think Gabaldon should count, and neither do I think George R R Martin, who I hope to get to, should count.

In addition to this, I’d like to get to more books received as presents; I’m thinking from recent years. These are Rowan Hisayo Buchanan’s Starling Days, Sharlene Teo’s Ponti, Imogen Hermes Gowar’s The Mermaid And Mrs Hancock, and Bernadine Evaristo’s Girl, Woman, Other.

And, lastly, more bookish-related than about specifics books, I want to try and work past an issue I have where the feeling of being daunted by starting a new book (all those pages ahead of me…) means that it takes me time to get into the book. I need to get better not only at just starting and getting past the first pages – after which the issue disappears and I’m away – but also a (potentially) related issue, which I’ve spoken of before, where I never really take in the first page or so. Yes, this, despite my interest and focus on first lines.

Did you make any goals for this year?

This Monday’s podcast episode is with Elizabeth Baines. Email and RSS subscribers: you may need to open this post in your browser to see the media player below.

Charlie and Elizabeth Baines (Used To Be; Astral Travel; also The Birth Machine; Balancing On The Edge Of The World; Too Many Magpies) discuss writing for radio, short stories – the relative importance of their first lines and differences to novels – writing a book about trying to tell a story, and the difficulties in labelling someone complicit or a victim in the context of past societal values.

To see all the details including links to other apps, I’ve made a blog page here.

Amy, you have no idea…

It’ll be quieter here, and whilst not nearly as busy and fun, I’ve realised that a quieter Christmas does mean more time for reading and some solo games I’ve got on a perpetual ‘do that later’ list. I’ve clocked up plenty of unfinished reads this year so I’m hoping to make a dent in that pile, and I might spend more time watching Outlander than I have the previous two Christmases, during which I unintentionally started a new festive routine of watching a decidedly un-festive programme over wine, cheese, and fairy lights. I enjoyed it so much – the fewer sex scenes really helped – that I’ve actually relegated watching the show to Christmas time and am therefore only on season two and reliant on Amazon continuing to make it available.

Books: Lillian Li’s Number One Chinese Restaurant; Oliver Goldsmith’s The Vicar Of Wakefield; Diana Evans’ Ordinary People; and, hopefully, Deborah Swift’s The Gilded Lily, which is a very recent addition. No Christmas books as yet; I’m still having a think about that one.

Games: Trine – another few-Christmas’ worth tradition; Overcooked; and possibly The Sims 3 and Kingdom Come Deliverance. If any of you readers are gamers and haven’t tried Trine, I very, very much recommend it.

Films: various cheesy Hallmark Channel ones I’ve not yet seen that our British Channel 5 make available, and Happiest Season (2020) as long as it’s on Amazon.

What are you doing this festive season?

I reckon eighty to ninety percent of the times in the last several years of my reading, I’ve found a contemporary book’s reference to a (any) mug to be ‘chipped’. It’s a bit like the present obsession with the verb ‘to reveal’ where so many of the things being revealed are, in fact, not actually being revealed. (Soapbox moment. To paraphrase, ‘She arrived at the coffee shop and took off her coat to reveal a nice green t-shirt with some branding on it’ – do we not take our coats off because we’re now inside rather than to reveal what we’re wearing underneath? And isn’t the usage of the term – not always male – too focused on attractiveness and a deliberation to entice that simply isn’t there? If it were ‘revealing’ that was used it would work much better.)

I digress. Chipped mug – doubtless it is to infer some amount of wear, age, or issue. A reference to the state of a place, or life, or someone’s thoughts. The mug has most likely been around a long time. It could be that it’s too loved, holds too much nostalgia, to be thrown away, but the use of the adjective and noun together is never (in my experience) surrounded by context. It’s merely an over-used convention.

I always see these mugs as a cup with a massive chip on (in?) the lip, rather like Chip from the cartoon version of Beauty and the Beast. This is probably wrong – it’s likely imagined by the authors as more like the slight chip on the thick handle (thus effectively superficial) of a mug from a number my dad gave me when he was having a chuck out. I took them because I’d loved using them. One did get broken – Dad didn’t have any bubble wrap so they were brought home in a plastic bag and one got smashed against the front door as the door was opened. But I wouldn’t throw the one with the superficial chip away. I even kept the smashed one – not smashed enough to be in pieces. It’s on the top shelf with the rest of my broken keepsake mugs.

I expect lots of characters have similar tales of keepsakes. This is surely more what the authors of fictional chipped mugs are thinking. Surely.

And I say ‘surely’ twice because to cycle back to the beginning, it’s just so prevalent, like ‘to reveal’, and wrought iron gates and gun-metal gray. There are few simple ‘mugs’ in contemporary literature; I get excited when there is one. And other mugs that aren’t ‘just’ mugs tend to have context – tin mugs in a scene set outdoors, designs and colours.

Oft-used sentence: as often happens, I’ve no conclusion. These are just musings. But there are enough chips that I felt the need to fill them in somehow.

It struck me last week as I was writing out the first lines post that I’ve never really looked at favourite book covers.

I have always been enticed by nice covers, though perhaps more so since I started reading ebooks and particularly now during isolation where I’m reading them almost entirely.

Most often I will be struck by the combination of a nice cover and a hardback book. Hardbacks tend to have more than their fair share of nice covers; when publishers switch covers for the paperback I find the new one is often not as appealing. Hardback jackets also seem to lend themselves better to embossing, gold paint, and better colour pigmentation. The bigger size of the book also gives it more grandeur.

This is to say that I’m not entirely sure I could make a decision on favourites without that context. Even looking at the covers online, without the physical nature of the hardback, it’s difficult to get away from the way they look in person. So I won’t try – the covers below are sometimes going to be influenced by the fact of the hardback.

I’m leaving out all books that are in the public domain where the ideas of the author and original designers are long gone, and I’m keeping it to one book per author. I’m also keeping it to books I’ve read. I’ve put title tags on all these as the covers are small – hover over them if you’d like the details.

Due to there being so many – and this is inevitably the shortened list – I’ll leave out any navel-gazing. I think it’s safe to say I love bright colours, multicolours, and images where one person stands in front of something, a future or situation being the subtext. (I’ve always though the latter is probably the reason for those covers – they make you want to find out more.) I like YA fantasy/magical realism/paranormal covers. And I rather love both covers that were created for One Night, Markovitch enough that whilst the reason I wanted to buy the book was the cover I’d seen, I still bought it when I found a copy with the new cover. Likewise The Particular Sadness Of Lemon Cake – I loved the title and the hardback cover but I guess the title drew me more as I read the paperback version seen above.

Which covers of books you’ve read are your favourites?