Tag Archives: library

Christmas books

I love a Christmas book. The solace of a familiar read for the shortest days of the year, stories that, when done well, can be as comforting as a warm mince pie and a glass of mulled wine. Here’s my current collection:

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Elizabeth David and Nigel Slater

You have to have a cookbook in a Christmas book pile. These two are cooks whose books can be read and enjoyed without necessarily making any of the recipes because the quality of writing is top notch. Nevertheless, the recipes are also a joy, even if Slater is probably better placed for modern cooks than Elizabeth David.

Christmas Days – Jeanette Winterson

This is a collection of stories, recipes and non-fiction notes by one of Britain’s most interesting writers. My hardback edition is cloth bound and gorgeous, with cover illustrations by Katie Scott and care in all the pages. The theme of the book is The 12 Days of Christmas and it comes with 12 recipes and 12 stories within, each of the recipes with a personal story to it, so you get a bit of Jeanette too, as much as she allows. It’s a lovely variety, a proper Christmas selection box of a book.

One Christmas Night – Hayley Webster

Hayley is one of the ‘good people’ on Twitter. Her questions and comments offer compassion and genuine interest in her fellow person and so, following a thread she published last Christmas, she was asked to write a Christmas book, and this was the result. Set on a single street in Norwich on Christmas Eve, One Christmas Night tells the stories of nine residents and how their lives interact as crime, human mistakes and tragedy take place. It’s ultimately a joyous story of family and love, which is precisely what anyone following Hayley might expect, and contains some lovely scenes of insight and compassion. It’s perfect to curl up with on a cold day.

Miss Marley – Vanessa Lafaye

A prequel! In a lovely cloth bound edition, festive and red and beautiful. This prequel was finished by Rebecca Mascull after the death of Vanessa Lafaye, and I cannot tell the difference between the two writers. It’s a story that examines what happens to Scrooge to make him into such a crosspatch, so bitter and disillusioned with life, and is charming without being sentimental, something Dickens rarely managed himself. A treat, and in the spirit of the original.

Festive Spirits – Kate Atkinson

Kate Atkinson is one of those writers who always make me notice others in my day to day life. I read this collection of three short stories on the tram to work and as I finished each one, I looked at my fellow passengers and cast them in their own short stories. The stories here contain wit and everyday love, one about a nativity, another a retelling of It’s A Wonderful Life, and all told with the trademark Atkinson humour and quirky affection.

A Christmas Carol – Charles Dickens

It doesn’t need much intro, this does it? I have two copies of this book, both once belonged to my Grandpa who loved Dickens and who I remember fondly, especially at Christmas. I have just read this to my daughter for the first time, and the simplicity of its storytelling and its message of love and generosity to others always appeals. While as a rule I like my Christmas books to be clad in lovely binding, this cheap paperback has a ribbon bookmark added with a staple by my Grandpa, and still contains illustrations.

A Snow Garden – Rachel Joyce

Another collection of short stories. It’s a format that fits the season, it seems. These are lovely, from the author of Harold Fry,The Music Shop and other novels. Joyce is another author whose portraits of normal people trying to connect with others are so beautifully written, and the people in this collection are no exception.

Stardust and Snow – Paul Magrs

Another story that went viral on Twitter before the author was asked to publish it. Stardust is the story of Daniel, a young fan who won a competition to watch Labyrinth at a special screening with the Goblin King himself, David Bowie. A letter sent by his dad meant that Daniel, who had autism, meant that Bowie asked him to come backstage to talk in quiet. This is the story of this encounter and is just beautiful. You will cry happy tears as you read it, a story of putting on masks to hide yourself, and of simple kindnesses.

A Child’s Christmas in Wales – Dylan Thomas

Another classic and very sweet. From another time, and a place that feels much further away and different than perhaps it should.

An Unexpected Gift: Three Christmas Gifts – Marcel Theroux

These were originally written as Christmas gifts for family by Theroux and have been published in pamphlet by the marvellous Rough Trade books imprint (which, if you haven’t checked them out yet, you MUST do, they publish all sorts of fascinating and splendid work.)

Lanterns Across the Snow and The Star Dreamer – Susan Hill

This is quite the loveliest looking book. Regally bound in purple with a red slipcase, and illustrated with woodcuts, and ordered direct from Long Barn Books, Susan Hill’s publishing venture, meant that Lanterns on the Snow also came accompanied by The Star Dreamer, a sweet fable about Aziz, a boy with vivid dreams who travels with his father and encounters the three wise men off to visit a baby king. This, too is illustrated beautifully, this time by Helen Cann. (From the website, both books come signed with Christmas salutations from the author.)

As you can see, the look and feel of the book is as important as the content. A lot of these are published in special editions, making them lovely tactile objects as well as providing quality reading content. You don’t get that with a digital edition.

I’m always interested in new Christmas books to add to the shelf – so hit me up with your suggestions! Merry Christmas one and all.

 

A childhood in books

As promised, I wanted to write about a childhood in books with a few featured. I have also decided to commit to blogging and reviewing every day in December and tagging authors to give them a boost about how much we appreciate them. (You can find out more about this here on Twitter – do think about joining in!) So here’s day 1.

I was reading Lucy Mangan’s Bookworm and thinking about the books I loved, the ones I return to, the ones I leave safely in the past but whose footprint is still with me, the ones I want to pass on. The passing on is especially important – I read a blog a while ago about a mother who had saved up a trip to Prince Edward Island with her daughter so they could share the wonder of Anne of Green Gables together and her daughter just didn’t like Anne. My heart! How awful – I dread this happening with E.

jonathan crombieSo as you can imagine, Anne of Green Gables is one of my absolute favourites. Yes, she talks too much, hugs trees too much and could be seen by some as utterly irritating but none of that ever bothered me. She was aching for love that girl, and had so much to give. My copies of the books are all TV tie in editions of the Kevin Sullivan production (the ONLY version worth watching) with Megan Follows as Anne, Colleen Dewhurst as Marilla and the lovely Jonathan Crombie as Gilbert. Gilbert Blythe was my first literary crush and remains to this day, one of the only decent men in the whole of literature. He spurs Anne onto greater academic achievement, allows her to voice her opinions and in every way respects her. You can count men who do that in books or onscreen on ONE hand. Anne of Green Gables also has one of the most heartbreaking scenes ever written in it – the death of Matthew Cuthbert – something that can make me cry at any time. Half my copies were presents from my Grandma, who bought them for me on a rare trip into Croydon together and whose kindness completed my collection, so I also think of her when I read them.

Going back a bit, my earliest book favourites were Rapunzel and Beaky the Greedy Duck. My mother hates both of them because she had to read them so often, and I think both were Ladybird editions. I’m not a massive fan of Ladybird books despite these, simply because when I was ill in bed as a child, a neighbour gave me the Ladybird version of The Little Mermaid and I was so upset by the awful ending I never read any more – Ladybird or Hans Christian Andersen. Give me the Disney version any day.

Of course I had an Enid Blyton phase, not the Faraway Tree, but straight into the Secret Seven, Famous Five, and the school books of Malory Towers and St Clares. The famous Five were favourites because of George and Timmy, who were something to aspire to – George being possibly the first tomboy character I was drawn to. A few years ago staying at a friend’s house overnight I came across a Secret Seven book that belonged to his son and started reading it out of curiosity. God it was awful.

mildred and maudOne set of books I loved and now E loves too is The Worst Witch. It’s not clear which of us is more excited by the new books in the series that Jill Murphy has started to bring out again – we have the new one ready for Christmas. Mildred Hubble is a great heroine. I was drawn to her because her hair was messy and her bootlaces were undone and she made mistakes but she had a good heart. I still love her while E is more drawn to Mildred’s steadfast friend Maud. E is too messy and disorganised herself to be anyone other than Mildred but I like that she values Maud. (Other characters I value because their bootlaces were undone also include Katy Carr from the ethically dodgy What Katy Did, which I acknowledge has dreadful morals but still has a place in my heart because of the bootlaces.)

What else? My mum worked in an infants school for a while and when I came to meet her from junior school one evening one of the teachers gave me a book from

daddy long legs

their library that was too old for their children. I still own it. It’s called A Fox in Winter by John Branfield and tells the story of a teenage girl who befriends an old Cornish farmer and listens to him while he tells her of the old mining days. It’s quietly compelling and explores isolation and generational differences and connections or disconnections between people. I also love and still own my copy of Jean Webster’s Daddy Long Legs, a sweet and little celebrated epistolary novel of an orphan and her guardian.

I also remember something I was gripped by and reread called Vipers and Co which was a kind of crime book I think. I can’t find any information about it now but I remember loving it. I also got a Robert Cormier book out which was called The Bumblebee Flies Anyway which I read more than once simply because it was disturbing – about a boy called Barney who lives in a medical facility for experimentation.

I will tell you of two more. Obviously Judy Blume must figure. My favourite was Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret, but obviously I had the Forever rite of passage. As with so many, the library copy was so battered every time someone returned the librarians tried to mend it only to have to hand it over immediately to another teenage girl who wanted to read it. I also made the mistake of asking my mum what some of the phrases during the sex scene meant (well, if you’ve not come across it before, saying somebody ‘came’ is very confusing) and she shrieked “What ARE you reading?” Oops.

alcott houseFinally, of course, my spiritual sister Jo March has reminded me that I must mention Little Women. We read this a few years ago at my reading group and one of the group said she couldn’t finish it because they were all so pious. I was heartbroken. Of course they are. But Little Women is part of me and, like practically every bookish woman, I am Jo March, although she is clearly a better person than me because if Amy burnt my book I would have left her to drown in the pond. Pious indeed. In the US I made a trip out to Concord to go round the Alcott house, visit their graves and generally worship – it’s fascinating, I do recommend it.

I would love to hear your childhood favourites! Drop a comment below – and don’t forget to keep reviewing books, visiting libraries and buying books from flesh and blood bookshops.

 

National Libraries Day

It’s late, I know. My blogging has fallen off in recent weeks ¬†and I can only blame the day job workload and a stinking cold. But a quick few words because it’s National Libraries Day.

My first library was a bus. A mobile library that came to the close where I lived. I on’t remember it well, though it may have been an odd blue colour and I do remember wondering how the books stayed on the shelves, as you do.

But then they built a new library, brand spanking new, down the road from my house. I went to the opening with my mum, got out loads of books and refused to talk to local radio about how glad I was that the library was there.

From that day I went a lot. After school, on Saturday mornings while my dad watched Football Focus, after school again, after school and Saturday mornings. For years. I must have read so many books there. I remember one, a YA dystopian fable called The Bumblebee Flies Anyway by Robert Cormier, I forget what it was about except that I was hooked and I got so cross at my dad who laughed at the title, thinking it wasn’t tackling enormous issues of life-threatening import. I remember being the latest in a long line of teenage girls asking for their copy of Forever by Judy Blume, just as the librarians had taken it out the back to try and mend its crumbling spine and loose pages from so much reading and re-reading.

My school had a library too. More books to read. And then there were university libraries. I found them impossible to study in, instead always looking around, taking in the titles and the grafitti on the tables. Photocopy and borrow the books to read elsewhere, that was my strategy. This is as true today as it was then – I can’t work well in libraries. When I was studying for my post-graduate diploma I had a visitor’s pass to Nottingham Trent University’s library. They only let you have access for a few days per year; you were essentially a non-paying student using their resources, and you couldn’t borrow anything. I had to get my research done in those few days. It was incredibly difficult and I only managed it by constantly playing The cave Singers two albums over and over again on my ipod.

Nowadays my library visits are mainly with my daughter who, at three, is already a big fan of the library. It was one of the first places to make us feel welcome as a mother and daughter combo, offering tots time singing sessions and signing her up for a library card before she was six months old.

I am incredibly lucky in living somewhere that the local Council recognises the importance of libraries, has been funding them and is working hard to improve literacy rates in children. Not everyone is so lucky. Not everyone realises what they are losing. Fight to keep them. They are a lifeline to so many.