Writing
Writing, did you say? Writing?
We will not talk about that just now. It’s happening, but it ain’t pretty.
Reading
My reading pace seems to have slowed a bit lately—not the quantity of books read, mind you, just the speed; probably owing to my having several books going at once and most of them nonfiction. Besides working through Emma for our Jane Austen book club, I have a bookmark in Jonathan Edwards: A New Biography by Iain Murray; and also impulsively started reading a hefty history of my hometown, published in 1891, that I dug up on Google Books—as a consequence of following a plot bunny for a possible future fairytale retelling. And last night I started The Anatomy of Story by John Truby—a Christmas gift that I got by hinting after having read Suzannah’s rave review of it—I’m only a few chapters in and have already been liberally besprinkling the pages with pencil underlinings and sticky-note flags, so that looks promising.
I actually attempted a re-read of Dickens’ Great Expectations recently, for the first time in many years, but laid it aside at the end of Part One because I found it inexpressibly dreary. I wonder why it didn’t strike me that way when I first read it as a kid? This time around there was hardly a character that I didn’t want to give a good shaking (excepting Biddy), with Pip himself at the head of that list. I may still finish it at some point, but I guess I’d have to be in just the right mood for it.
Watching
I saw Amazing Grace (2006) for the first time last week and quite enjoyed it. Just so you know, it’s a bit more intense/less family-friendly than most period dramas I’ve watched before (I saw it with literally a few seconds skipped here and there), but that aside—and barring the regrettable decision to portray John Newton as something of a half-demented hermit—I found it a really moving, inspiring film. I was also delighted how it tied in with all the historical references in one of my new favorite book series, the Merriweather Chronicles by Meredith Allady, in which the central family are supposed to have once lived in Clapham and are acquainted with historical figures such as William Wilberforce, Henry Thornton, Hannah More et al.
For weekend relaxation (if it isn’t an oxymoron to refer to an inherently nail-biting sport as relaxation), I sometimes catch a Premier League or Bundesliga soccer match. Dare I confess that I think I like soccer better than basketball or football now? Plus, the dry, droll English and Scottish commentary on these European games absolutely cracks me up. (“Is he going to do something, or is he going to just stand there looking befuddled?”)
Listening
When I occasionally do some sort of visual creative work, the best background music I know is Aaron Copland. I listened to Appalachian Spring more than once while doing some drawing and coloring this month—a piece firmly on my list of classical favorites—along with the opening movement from The Tender Land suite, and the lesser-known Letter From Home.
Aside from that, I’m on a bit of a British-Isles-folk-music kick, probably owing to my younger sisters—though I tend to go for lush orchestral arrangements over vocal ones myself. For example: Vaughn Williams’ English Folk Song Suite, plus his “Sea Songs” (which inspired some musings on why we haven’t had a classical composer to do for American folk songs what Vaughn Williams did with English); this arrangement of “The Blue Bells of Scotland” (which I finally identified as the pretty song Jessie Brown played on the piano in Cranford!), and “Cockles and Mussels” by the City of Glasgow Philharmonic.
Otherwise
I took a long break from writing in February when dealing with some particularly tough writer’s block, and spent the time indulging some of my other hobbies. I finally taught myself to knit—not sure if I’ll ever be as good at it as I am at crocheting, or enjoy it as much, but it’s a fun change. I finally compiled all my family tree research into one place, and traced several branches even farther back into colonial New England—all the way to the first ship after the Mayflower in one case! I also took a few baby steps on one other thing I’ve always had a hankering to do: learn a second language. I’m taking German from Duolingo; and one thing I find fascinating so far is what I’m learning about English grammar from the links between the two languages—especially the similarities to antiquated forms of expression in English. (For example: while nowadays we’d translate “Verstehst du das?” as “Do you understand this?”, it’s really remarkably close to the older English “Understandest thou this?”)
March, as per tradition, came in like a lion—we’ve had several bountiful snowfalls one on top of the other since the beginning of the month. Frankly, I prefer lots of snow in March to weeks of a wet gray-and-brown landscape; the whiteness brightens up even the cloudy days. After one of the biggest storms my siblings and I had a nighttime snowball-fight “under the lights”—the back door and deck lights, that is—and I have to admit I had aching muscles for days afterwards. We have also found that you can’t have a proper snowball-fight with Bär around, since she goes absolutely crazy attempting to intercept every single snowball out of the air.
photo by me