On Books

I just read the following quote from  A Passion for Books, posted by a LibraryThing pal (thanks Donna!). This book of essays is by Henry Ward Beecher (1813-1887), who was an American Congregational minister, author, and lecturer.

“Books are the windows through which the soul looks out. A home without books is like a room without windows. No man has the right to bring up his children without surrounding them with books if he has the means to buy them. It is a wrong to his family. He cheats them! Children learn to read by being in the presence of books. The love of knowledge comes with reading and grows upon it. And the love of knowledge in a young mind is almost a warrant against the inferior excitement of passions and vices.

Let us pity these poor rich men who live barrenly in great bookless houses! Let us congratulate the poor that, in our day, books are so cheap that a man may every year add a hundred volumes to his library for the price which his tobacco and his beer would cost him. Among the earliest ambitions…among all that are struggling up in life from nothing to something, is that of forming and continually adding to a library of good books. A little library, growing larger every year, is an honourable part of a man’s history. A library is not a luxury, but one of the necessities of life.

As Donna said, the language here is dated and sexist, but the thinking behind it is worth sharing.

The Maples Blazed and Smouldered

Fall 2011_9330

“The long storm was followed by a north-west gale, and when it was over, the hills took on their first umber tints, the sky grew more densely blue, and the big white clouds lay against the hills like snow-banks. The first crisp maple-leaves began to spin across Miss Hatchard’s lawn, and the Virginia creeper on the Memorial splashed the white porch with scarlet. It was a golden triumphant September. Day by day the flame of the Virginia creeper spread to the hillsides in wider waves of carmine and crimson, the larches glowed like the thin yellow halo about a fire, the maples blazed and smouldered, and the black hemlocks turned to indigo against the incandescence of the forest” – Edith Wharton, Summer

My friend Kimmy had offered me as a birthday present an outing in the Eastern Townships when the fall colours would make their appearance; the idea being to go do some wine tasting, and so we set out last Wednesday morning to drive down the small roads in and around Frelighsburg. Our timing was perfect as the scenery all about us was glorious. Of course, pictures can never reproduce the feeling one has when surrounded by all those rich colours, but my camera was at the ready and we stopped often to take it all in. Kim and I share similar sensibilities and together we can just stay in one spot and marvel at the beauty before us. It’s so wonderful to be able to share those things with such a good friend. The young cows were in their pasture by the side of the road, and when I approached them, camera at the ready, they became just as curious about me. Kimmy stayed with Coco in the car, and told me afterward that he had started barking furiously, but when he saw the bovines approach, he switched to low growling instead—no doubt about it, my little stray is a city dog. We had lunch in the small town and continued on our way, again, making frequent stops, until eventually we realized we didn’t have much time left to visit vineyards. That was fine by me as I had no great impulse to discover Quebec wines, and those we did try, two whites, two reds, a rosé, then fortified wines, left much to be desired, with an acidity level that made my mouth pucker up for minutes after the initial sip. The ice wines were quite nice, but I was all too happy to leave the vino behind and bring home wonderful impressions and memories and a few snapshots so I could share some of our local natural splendours.

Never too late to discover a masterpiece.

To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee ★★★★★

I can’t believe it took me this long to get to this novel. But what more could I possibly say about it that hasn’t been said before? That it’s brilliant? Check. That it surpassed my expectations? Check. That Harper Lee’s insight and keen observations on human nature can be both sublime and painful to read? Check, I’m sure. So I’ll just share a couple of quotes. The first stood out to me because it was so simply expressed, but in that simplicity, all the tension of the moment had great immediacy. It almost felt like a scene from a classic Western movie, as the two opposing factions are about to face off. The second scene, featuring some brilliant dialogue was—on the surface anyway—very funny to me. But I felt I also shared Scout’s bewilderment to be listening to this most Christian of ladies speak so patronizingly of the blacks of Africa and Maycomb alike: Continue reading

On Animals

I’m reading Watership Down right now. There are various quotes relating to the story at the beginning of each chapter and the following by Dostoyevsky rang true to me.

“Love animals: God has given them the rudiments of thought and joy untroubled. Do not trouble their joy, don’t harrass them, don’t deprive them of their happiness, don’t work against God’s intent. Man, do not pride yourself on superiority to animals; they are without sin, and you, with your greatness, defile the earth by your appearance on it, and leave the traces of your foulness after you alas, it is true of almost every one of us!” ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

Show & Tell

"My" wall 08/06/11. Comments received: "innovation, bold & bright, fearless, your love for colour shows", "wonderful energy", "dynamism. strong sense of linking colour and expression", "scattered yet structured, Raunchy pinkness" (was my comment), "Belle exploration abstraite. Bon mariage du signe et de la couleur dans l'espace.", "clean. direct. conflict & resolution. pure" (was teacher's comment), "Black forms very strong", "heartfelt, Natural, ORDER folklore (connecting direction)", "STRONG—BOLD + BEAUTIFUL"

3 small paintings (left) are missing from “my” wall in pic above. This was an exercise in monotone + complementary colour.

It was a BIG day for me today. Was our last Abstract Watercolours class of the session, and the teacher had said that we wouldn’t do any painting today, but instead, she would start by showing us a Powerpoint presentation of some abstract works by various artist she pulled together, then each of us would display the work we did during the course, like a little private show that we each got to put up on the wall in turn. I got up extra early this morning (night-bird that I am) to put the finishing touches on a couple of paintings, then made my way to class with what I thought were all my pieces, in astoundingly hot weather (the kind that makes you sweat when you’re just sitting still).

Once in class, I was running around helping people put up their work, photographing it with my iPhone, then taking it down, and acting as timekeeper too, to make sure everyone got a decent allotment of time up on the wall. Once the work was up, teacher asked us each to write a couple of words that came to mind, then she read all the comments out loud to the student/artists. It was really moving. I went last, and I was surprised at how emotional the experience was. Quite a few comments about my colour sense, but “Bold” was a word that came up a lot. Go figure. I was mostly surprised at just how bold my work was in fact, considering that I always set out to do delicate and seemingly fragile—quiet strength-type things—but teacher said that was a side of my work I could take my time discovering over the summer maybe.

Then, after class I had a bunch of errands to run. The Visual Arts Centre is on Victoria street in Westmount, a very quaint little street with all kinds of interesting shops and cafés in one of the more posh parts of town, and somehow I went absolutely crazy and ended up buying two pairs of sandals (the kind with really great support, like the Israeli brand, Naot), plus a pair of ballerinas from Pretty Ballerina… handmade in Italy… but on sale! And really, I swear, they had my name written all over.

Then I got home and instantly realized that I had left my three FAVOURITE watercolour paintings on the coffee table in the living room this morning, even though I’d taken my time yesterday pulling all my pieces together. Oy.

Oh well…

Above, I’ve posted a pic of what my wall looked like, along with the comments I received. Close-ups on the individual pieces as well as photos of the works of the other students will end up on createthreesixtyfive.com eventually/soon. And yes, photos from our now long past student show in April are coming up soon too.

Also, almost forgot to mention that a lady from our class offered her place for a monotype workshop this weekend at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts, which I jumped on. Should be fun.

On the Politics of Literature

“I never quite know what people mean by political. They
may be saying that it’s a brave work. Or they might be saying
the work makes them uncomfortable, that they don’t want
to deal with it.”

“We live in a society that packages things into handy boxes,
and we’re used to being told what to think. But one of the challenging and gratifying things about literature is that it doesn’t tell you what to think. It asks you what you think…. When I write a book and hand it over to my publisher,
I consider it half-finished. The other half of the work happens
in the hearts and minds of the reader. It’s a personal experience and it’s different for everyone.” (Washington Post)

“I think of ‘activism’ as a simple action meant to secure a specific result: for this purpose I go to school board meetings,
I vote, I donate money, and occasionally fire off an op-ed piece. But that’s not what I do for a living. Writing literature is so much more nuanced than these things, it’s like comparing chopping vegetables to neurosurgery. Literature is one of the few kinds of writing in the world that does not tell you what
to buy, want, see, be, or believe. It’s more like conversation, raising new questions and inspiring you to answer them for yourself. …”

“For some reason, people in the U.S. are fond of putting me in a box labeled ‘political,’ which could mean anything…. If it means ‘inclined to change people’s minds,’ that seems ludicrous as
a category because great literature will always do that. Fiction cultivates empathy for a theoretical stranger by putting you inside his head, allowing you to experience life from his point
of view. It can broaden your view of gender, ethnicity, place
and time, power and vulnerability, things that influence social interaction. What could be more political than that?” (barbarakingsolver.com)

“I think writing a novel is a political act, automatically, because of the way it draws the reader into a carefully constructed world-view and generates empathy for the people who inhabit that world.”

“I never think that anything I’m writing is bluntly political in any way. I’m not going for commentary. And if I worried about controversy in this country I would just shut myself into a room and never come out. Anything one does is likely to be labelled absurdly and that is part of what [The Lacuna] is about.” (Telegraph)

“I think the novelist’s duty, then, is to own up to the power
of the craft, and use it wisely.”(Faber & Faber)

All quotes by Barbara Kingsolver, American author of among others ThePoisonwood Bible and the recent The Lacunathe former of which I’ve read, absolutely loved, and wholeheartedly recommend and the second of which I look forward to reading eventuallyfounder of the Bellwether Prize, an award bestowed every other year on an unpublished work of “socially responsible literature.”

Makes sense to me (Quote of the Day)

We ought to always concede to others that they hold a parcel of truth instead of saying “All truth belongs to me, my country, my race, my religion.”
[ Amadou Hampâté Bâ, African Writer ]

Ce qu’il faudrait, c’est toujours concéder à son prochain qu’il a une parcelle de vérité et non pas de dire que toute la vérité est à moi, à mon pays, à ma race, à ma religion.
[ Amadou Hampâté Bâ, écrivain africain ]