In which I wrap up October
And in which it will become very clear that I am a student again…
Things I have read
Many, many things on the Old Testament, which it is at least a part of one person’s actual job to talk to me about, so I won’t inflict all of that on you, except to say that historical criticism of Old Testament texts is a lot and I a bit miss working with ancient texts where I didn’t have to worry about that.
Anyway. I have read two whole novels (and a half) and also some poetry in the last month.
Rodham by Curtis Sittenfeld. This was a bit of a disappointment, given how good An American Wife was and how much it actually made me empathise with Laura Bush. Perhaps it’s because Hillary Clinton (and Bill, who primarily features in the first third of the book) are so familiar, but it was really weird being inside her head and their relationship. I found I enjoyed the book more as it went along, but it never quite sailed. A couple of things I found interesting: (i) the way the writing of the sex and Hillary’s sex drive added to my finding it awkward, like, was it bad sex writing, maybe, but also it maybe says something about how we don’t talk or write about the sexual desire and pleasure of women so that I’m just not used to it when it turns up in literary fiction, and (ii) the comparison Sittenfeld draws between Bill Clinton and Donald Trump. Once seen, it can’t be unseen.
Jack, by Marilynne Robinson, which was quite literally going to the sublime from the ridiculous (or base). This is Robinson’s fourth ‘Gilead’ book, and I love to visit her world. I would be interested to know how people who have never been there before found Jack, because I suspect it’s the least immediately accessible. If you didn’t know who Jack was from previous books, how engaged would you be with this story? I don’t know. I love Jack Boughton, and I loved this book, with its meandering chronology and rich meditations on predestination and redemption and the impossibility of being in the world without affecting people in it, but it is definitely a very distinct and unusual beast. It did good things for my soul and my attention, but I suspect it will frustrate others.
Postcolonial Love Poem, by Natalie Diaz. I usually have a book of poetry on the go, and this month it was this one. I’ve been loving it and the different way it shows me the world, like this bit, from her poem ‘Manhattan is a Lenape Word’
Manhattan is a Lenape word.
Even a watch must be wound.
How can a century or a heart turn
if nobody asks, Where have all
the natives gone?If you are where you are, then where
are those who are not here? Not here.
Which is why in this city I have
many lovers. All my loves
are reparations loves.
Things I’ve watched
Still not back to the cinema, but I took the chance to catch one of the London Film Festival’s online options, African Apocalypse, which is a documentary exploring the impact of the colonial path of one Paul Voulet through Niger. It takes Voulet and Niger as a specific example of the wider history of colonialism and its legacy. I thought it was a really good access point into this, and into the way it links with Rhodes Must Fall in Oxford and Black Lives Matter more broadly.
I also watched Enola Holmes on Netflix, which was light and enjoyable fun, and Mille Bobbie Brown is a fully enjoyable fourth wall breaker. I also enjoyed Henry Cavill as Sherlock Holmes, but only as Enola’s sidekick. I don’t want to see a whole film of him.
A recommendation of some kind
It’s still autumn, so go for a walk if you can. Or sit in a park or common and stare at a cow or sheep. Also, drink some lapsang souching tea and listen to some jazz.
In the pile for next month
I’m half-way through An American War (perfect timing…) and have the new little Philip Pullman as a treat when I’m done. Other than that, who knows. Whatever gets me to sit down with it, honestly
A photo from the last month
Out of the door into autumn…
