I Want to Spend All My Money on Books

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The Leeds Library, UK. Photo by Michael D. Beckwith. Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0

I won’t, of course, seeing as it wouldn’t be very practical. But, you know, a girl can dream! My idea of luxury is having a house with a dedicated reading room: somewhere with wall-to-wall books, a cosy woollen armchair, a dog to curl up by my feet and, best of all, unlimited time to read and think. An old English country estate, with a large house and extensive grounds, would suit my requirements perfectly.

But, alas, I don’t have millions in the bank, and I don’t actually spend much money on books anyway. Most of the books I read are galley copies, also known as advance reader copies (ARC), and I usually get them through publishers or NetGalley.  They are uncorrected proof copies which publishers distribute to generate some publicity and get people talking ahead of the official publication of a book.

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A little bundle of puppy joy

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How it Begins
 
A puppy is a puppy is a puppy.
He’s probably in a basket with a bunch
of other puppies.
Then he’s a little older and he’s nothing
but a bundle of longing.
He doesn’t even understand it.
Then someone picks him up and says,
“I want this one.”
~ Poem by Mary Oliver from her book Dog Songs (2013) ~

A week ago today, feeling a mix of nervous anticipation and excitement, I drove to collect the newest addition to the family. No, not a baby, but something I confess I find much cuter: a little bundle of puppy joy! Continue reading

Fortified by Poetry

This week, I listened to Krista Tippett’s On Being interview with the poet Mary Oliver. Although I was familiar with Mary Oliver’s name, I knew nothing of her poetry other than the often-quoted final lines from The Summer Day:

Mary Oliver ~ Siyan Ren

Unsplash photo, courtesy of Siyan Ren

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Between the Pages: Quotes from Thomas Hardy

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Between the Pages is a new, weekly blog series which explores the life, times and creative works of well-known authors. I plan to run the blog series until the end of 2015, focusing on one author per month. New posts every Tuesday, plus occasional bonus posts.

The first post in the series is a brief biography of the author, the second looks at the historical period of the author, and the third post discusses their creative works. Finally, the last post includes selected quotations and short excerpts by the author.


As we’ve established, Thomas Hardy was not exactly the cheeriest of fellows. When I searched on Goodreads for quotes to include in this post, this was in the top five: “Happiness was but the occasional episode in a general drama of pain”.

Hardy’s writing can be grim but as one of my readers commented on the last post, he wrote about situations from his own observation — it’s not simply gratuitous tragedy.

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Between the Pages: Thomas Hardy’s Life (part II)

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Between the Pages is a new, weekly blog series which explores the life, times and creative works of well-known authors. I plan to run the blog series until the end of 2015, focusing on one author per month. New posts every Tuesday, plus occasional bonus posts.

The first post in the series is a brief biography of the author, the second looks at the historical period of the author, and the third post discusses their creative works. Finally, the last post includes selected quotations and short excerpts by the author.


There’s a slight change of schedule this week — today, we’re following up Hardy’s personal life before we move on to discussing his era. My post about Hardy’s era is in progress — I’ll publish that in a few days and then the series will be back on track! 🙂

Thomas Hardy, circa 1910 - 1915. Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

Thomas Hardy, circa 1910 – 1915.
Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.

At the end of my last post about Thomas Hardy’s life, I mentioned that he had a difficult personal life. He married his first wife, Emma, in 1874 and for a few years, they were quite happy. But they began to have disagreements and it led to a growing distance between them, most likely prompted by a combination of factors including their childless marriage and Hardy’s growing success.

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A Little Bit of Silliness

Here’s a little bit of silliness to make you smile on this Monday morning. I remember this rhyme from my childhood and it still makes me giggle.

(Rhyme: Anon. Graphic created by me, using Pinwords.com. Image sourced from PublicDomainPictures.net).

Do you remember any rhymes or limericks from your childhood which make you smile?

A woman’s best friend….

I have a guest staying for the day. He is very agreeable and has perfect manners. 🙂

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Joyful, joyful, joyful,
as only dogs know how to be happy
with only the autonomy
of their shameless spirit
” (Pablo Neruda, translated from the Spanish below)

“Alegre, alegre, alegre
como los perros saben ser felices,
sin nada más,
con el absolutismo de la naturaleza descarada”

Snow and Poetry

For Day 19 of Zero to Hero, the challenge is to “publish a post using a format you’ve never used before”. The slideshow below contains a photo gallery (a format which is new to me) of wintry pictures which I took a couple of years ago, plus a cento I composed to go with them. A cento is like a poetic mash-up, with lines from poems by different authors rearranged into a new, unique poem. For a wonderful example of a cento that the BBC recently produced as a promo for one of their channels, click here: BBC Cento.

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And here is my complete cento in order. All of the authors’ names and the titles of the poems are in the captions of the gallery slideshow. In respective order, I composed the cento with quotes from poems by Robert Frost, Emily Bronte, John Clare, Thomas Hardy, George Meredith and Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep
And fifteen wild Decembers
From those brown hills have melted into spring.
The winter comes; I walk alone.

Around the house the flakes fly faster,
And all the berries now are gone.
Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
Leap off the rim of earth across the dome.

The secret ministry of frost
Shall hang them up in silent icicles,
Quietly shining to the quiet Moon.