Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts

Friday, April 12, 2013

A bookworm gets an e-reader


Spring seems rather temperamental this year. Though the snow has melted here this last week has been very rainy and chilly, with some excellent thunderstorms, and so I've remained inside with some good books and a steaming mugs of tea.
 
My birthday was last week and my future parents-in-law got me an e-reader. I quickly became excited about it, even though I'm a fan of the 'ol paper copy books and I hadn't given much thought about owning an e-reader. What I'm particularly excited about is that I can "borrow" a great deal of e-books from my local library and most literary classics are available through Project Gutenberg (helllloooo JS Le Fanu, Alexandre Dumas, and Jane Austen!). It's a bookworm's dream.

There was, and still seems to be, a feeling of anxiety among many that e-readers are the undoing of the book industry. I don't know the figures, but I feel that book lovers will always keep buying paper copies of books. With libraries now lending out copies of e-books, it's yet another way they've maintained their relevance and importance within their community. 

Personally, if I read a book I love that I've come across digitally through my e-reader I'm still going to go out and buy a physical copy, because you never forget your first love and your first love is worth bringing home.


Thursday, February 7, 2013

Library Haul

I'm sure many of you well seasoned net surfers are already familiar with "Book hauls" and "Shopping hauls." Though I've encountered Library Hauls, I haven't seen them as frequently and so I've decided I'll begin posting what I bring back from the library as a Library Haul.

Here's my most recent one.

I love going to the library and taking my time perusing the stacks; not knowing what I'll come across is greatly thrilling. I remember the first times I went to my local library alone around the age of ten or so; the smell of books and the lovely solitude amongst the shade of the stacks is an experience that shaped who I am and what I love throughout life.

Though I'm keen on all the books I brought home with me, the "treasure" I found was "The Eldon House Diaries" which is a collection of the diaries of the former inhabitants of a local house and historical landmark called Eldon House (about which I must gush about here soon). The house was inhabited by a wealthy English-Canadian family and the diaries document a great deal about Victorian life. (I'm trying not to read it at present because apparently my fiancé has ordered it online for me, but it`s lost somewhere in shipping limbo, though the bits I have read are fascinating!)



(Tempted to cut out sunglasses from black construction paper for Keira Knightley.)


Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Thoughts on "The Life of Charlotte Brontë" by Elizabeth Gaskell


While perusing the stacks at my local library I found The Life of Charlotte Brontë by Elizabeth Gaskell, author of Cranford and North and South.  I'm quite a fan of all three of the Brontë  sisters (though admittedly I am particularly an admirer of Charlotte and of her novel Jane Eyre). I've already read a few contemporary books about the Brontë family, though I had not yet read Gaskell's biography of her close friend.  It was time to take it home and acquaint myself.


The Life of Charlotte Brontë was first published in 1857, a mere two years after the celebrated author's passing at the age of thirty-nine as the last of the six Brontë children.  It is the first biography of a female author, written by a female author in a time when it was still greatly questioned if it was even possible for a woman to formulate her own ideas and if so, was it acceptable or proper for this woman to make a living on these intellectual capabilities. The book and its conclusions are still being studied and debated by scholars (for instance, the anecdote of Patrick Brontë, the father, shooting a pistol out into the back yard to relieve his heightened emotions; did this really happen? why? was he as odd as he's made out to be?). Not only does the book provide great insight into the individual personalities and inclinations of Charlotte, Emily, and Anne, but it also plunges the reader into understanding the social climate and surrounding circumstances in which the sisters and Gaskell wrote and lived.  


Gaskell presents the Brontës as people with minds who shone despite great shadows. For instance, their lives were blighted by illness and the death of loved ones. Their health and spirits withered (especially Emily's) due to homesickness which surged whenever they had to leave their family home.  According to Gaskell, the sisters were also particularly shy or reserved in most social situations, though I suspect that their above-average intelligence had to be stoked by the selective company of equal minds and temperaments. Any substandard company seemingly left them to languish. It was in each other's company that they were strongest. When they were lucky enough to be at home which was the parsonage adjacent to the church where their father was minister, Charlotte, Emily, and Anne discussed their ideas in the evenings after the rest of the household had gone to bed. It was during this time that they supported one another, perfected their notions, and strengthened their resolves.

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The sisters are still famous today, though at the time I'm sure they were perceived as a bit odd. They were quite determined to be as self sufficient as possible in an age where intellectual options were limited for women. They dreamed of opening a small school together so they wouldn't have to take on employment which they hated (namely, being governesses) and could continue writing in the hope that someday their works could be published. The sisters also had their own ideas when came to the subject of marriage.  It was not expected for a woman to be yet unmarried by the age of twenty-five. Charlotte was once made an offer of marriage and, after declining the offer, wrote about the experience to a friend.

I had a kindly leaning towards him, because he is an amiable and well-disposed man.  Yet I had not, and could not have, that intense attachment which would make me willing to die for him, and if I ever marry, it must be in that light of adoration that I will regard my husband.

This is passage demonstrates how Charlotte couldn't bring herself to settle for someone she didn't adore.  It seems she couldn't let the circumstances or expectations of society drive away the values she held onto strictly throughout her life.  Charlotte felt that life couldn't be lived with only half-baked thoughts and tepid feelings. I love this.

The more one learns about the Brontës, the more one begins to understand just how much each sister's masterpiece is a projection of themselves. Many (though not all, sorry Cathy) of the heroines in their books carry the same values as did their authors. Charlotte, Emily, and Anne wrote books which still manage to captivate and inspire each new generation and it's evident that the authors were just as engaging as the books they wrote. 

I'll leave you with the following excerpt, taken from one of Charlotte's many letters which Gaskell chose to include in the biography. In this letter, Charlotte paints a beautiful image of her beloved sister Emily and how she was linked, heart and soul, to her beloved moors.

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My sister Emily loved the moors. Flowers brighter than the rose bloomed in the blackest of the heath for her;--out of a sullen hollow in a livid hill-side, her mind could make an Eden. She found in the bleak solitude many and dear delights; and not the least and best-loved was--liberty. Liberty was the breath of Emily's nostrils; without it she perished. The change from her own home to a school, and from her own very noiseless, very secluded, but unrestricted and unartificial mode of life, to one of disciplined routine (though under the kindest auspices), was what she failed in enduring. Her nature proved here too strong for her fortitude. Every morning, when she woke, the vision of home and the moors rushed on her, and darkened and saddened the day that lay before her. Nobody knew what ailed her but me. I knew only too well. In this struggle her health was quickly broken: her white face, attenuated form, and failing strength, threatened rapid decline. I felt in my heart she would die, if she did not go home, and with this conviction obtained her recall. She had only been three months at school; and it was some years before the experiment of sending her from home was again ventured on.

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Late Night Thoughts on Books.




She is too fond of books,
and it has turned her brain.

-Louisa May Alcott


I must admit that I first encountered this sentence on a book bag I saw a lady carrying in a Winnipeg McNally Robinson. As I currently occupy my time as a history student at the graduate level, I must admit that this sentence now often comes to mind. This is especially true when I find myself poring over a book late into the night when the usual activity of the surrounding city is dulled to a sleepy state, while, at the same time, my mind and imagination race with the possibilities presented by the matter I encounter between the printed pages of text I thumb. Therefore, I consider this sentence written by Louisa May Alcott in the nineteenth century with great affection. Books have fascinated me since I can remember. Even before I could read, I remember noticing the books my parents held between their hands and considering, as they read, "What could there possibly be on those pieces of paper which demands their concentration?"



It is the potential which lies within books which has long inspired my fascination. Scholarly works provide incite into the complexities related to the authors' thoughts and processes, as well as the complexities of the subject matter. Meanwhile, works of fiction are veritable rabbit holes of possibilities. Quite selfishly, it seems that in a world where so many experiences are shared by many through television and film, books offer the possibility for individual experience. Of course many people read the same books, but the content of these books are first experienced individually. The characters and settings are subject greatly to the construction of the reader's imagination. I find that bibliophiles usually share this common understanding that books are great bastions for fantasy and thought; a sort of security blanket for the contents of one's own mind.


I find that without complexities and imagination life loses something important. What is life if one cannot dream of something greater or ponder the meaning of the surrounding world? So perhaps it is a bit odd to own eight different published version of the same book because you like the variations in their presentation. Or considering the different methodology used in that new work of social history published by the University of Toronto Press, only to realize that, yes, I am in fact grocery shopping, and, yes, I have been staring at this tomato that I hold in my hand for well over a minute. Or thinking, "What would Oscar Wilde be wearing were he alive today? Would he ride the bus?" and, "When I finally get to England I am SO going to that Charles Dickens theme park I've heard about." So, perhaps books do have the ability to "turn a brain", but books hold the potential to be a shining salve which works away life's accumulated grit.

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