Eric Ravilious, Cuckmere Haven (1939)
Thinking about what I might write about here yesterday, it occurred to me that, despite the fact that reading takes up a fairly large proportion of my time, I’d never used this space all that much to talk about the different books that I enjoy. I think that part of that absence is probably about the fact that writing about reading used to count as (academic) work for me. And perhaps part of it, too, is that I considered the miscellaneous stuff that I read as being of (at best) tangential relevance to a crafting and knitting blog. But this space is really about so much more than knitting . . . so here’s the first of what may turn out to be a series of posts about the books I’ve read this week.
Eric Ravilious, Beachy Head (1939)
First up, a book I finished in the middle of this week but have been reading since mid-March: Six Facets of Light by Ann Wroe. I bought this book after hearing Wroe a couple of months ago on Private Passions, finding what she had to say really interesting, and realising that I had never (consciously) read a word she’d written. Wroe makes her living as the obituaries editor of The Economist, but is also (I’ve discovered) an extraordinarily fine essayist, writing prose that’s like glass, precise and luminous. Six Facets of Light is a book that’s quite hard to categorise or pin down (much like Wroe herself, I imagine): a lyrical and poetic exploration of the very particular kind of light that characterises her beloved home landscape (the South Downs) and a wide-ranging journey through ideas of light in general, drawing together examples from her favourite authors and artists.
Eric Ravilious, The Wilmington Giant (1939)
If you enjoy the work of Eric Ravilious or Gerard Manley Hopkins (as I certainly do) then I’m sure you’ll love this book. Each chapter was for me a delicious thought-provoking feast, which I chewed over and savoured – marking several passages (about Turner’s yellows; about Newton; about the moon) which I felt Tom (another light-focused thinker) might later enjoy. My landscape and my light is very different from Ann Wroe’s – both in the material sense (facing north and west rather than south and east) and the spiritual sense (I don’t share the specifically Anglican bent of her aesthetics), but reading this book was like being washed and immersed in light and colour, while taking a long walk with a friendly and erudite companion. Highly recommended.
Eric Ravilious, Train Landscape (1939)
Next up, an ascerbic and timely piece of anti-capitalist polemic, Jonathan Crary’s 24/7. Last year I read several books by Italian theorist, Bifo Beradi, in one of which (I can’t now recall the title) he cited Crary’s work proposing sleep as a kind of final affront to late capitalism’s demands of perpetual presence and attention. I’m quite interested in sleep from a personal perspective – neurological fatigue can still floor me now more than 10 years after my stroke, and regulated sleep is also a really important tool in managing psychological issues like my bipolar. Perhaps because of my personal experiences of sleep, then, I also find myself increasingly interested in the idea or practice of sleep from a political perspective: sleep is, on the one hand, an expanse of wonderfully unproductive time from which it has remained difficult for capitalism to extract value, and, on the other hand, sleep is a universal need that is part of what makes us humans human (or perhaps, more accurately, animal). The fact that sleep might now be regarded as “the only remaining barrier, the only enduring natural condition that capitalism cannot eliminate” is basically what Crary’s book’s about. I found it an exhilarating read, and devoured it at a sitting – it’s a book that left me with lots to ponder (as well as things with which to take issue).
Crary rails against how the “demand for mandatory 24/7 visual content [has] effectively become a new form of institutional super-ego” in which “individual acts of vision are unendingly solicited for conversion into information that will both enhance technologies of control and be a form of surplus value in a marketplace based on the accumulation of data on user behaviour.” While such channellings of Foucault via Frederic Jameson might seem familiar (if, like me, you read a lot of this kind of stuff), Crary’s account of the cultural effects of being perpetually glued to screens or social media often strikes a distinctively compelling note, perhaps particularly in the light of the understandable reactions of so many of us to the current global situation:
“24/7 steadily undermines distinctions between day and night, between light and dark, and between action and repose. . . . it is like a state of emergency, when a bank of floodlights are suddenly switched on in the middle of the night, seemingly as a response to some extreme circumstance, but which never get turned off and become domesticated into a permanent condition. The planet becomes re-imagined as a non-stop work site or an always-open shopping mall of infinite choices, tasks, selections, and digressions. Sleeplessness is the state in which producing, consuming, and discarding occur without pause, hastening the exhaustion of life and the depletion of resources.”
I enjoyed (if enjoyment is the word) the earlier chapters of this book the most. As someone who knows something about eighteenth-century British art, I was less convinced by Crary’s readings of the work of Joseph Wright of Derby, and as someone who suffers from both, by his rather casual and thoughtless appropriation of the terminology of psychological disorder and neurological disability into his own discursive framework (describing our contemporary malaise as ‘autistic’ or ‘bipolar’ seems to be a disturbingly common trend in contemporary political and theoretical writing). But the big question Crary’s book asks is undoubtedly important, viz: “how existing technical capabilities and premises could be deployed in the service of human and social needs rather than the requirements of capital and empire.”
This is indeed a big question – and one that’s becoming increasingly urgent, not only against a backdrop of global environmental concerns, but in terms of the control of unelected corporations (as well as elected governments) of our data and behaviour – an issue that will assume much greater urgency, as we ‘consent’ to unprecedented access to private information about our health, psychology, and physical movements and location – including the tracking of our eye movements on surveillance-capitalist platforms like Zoom – a nifty panoptical feature that enables our bosses and supervisors to check we are all paying enough attention.
A cheerier, and much more restorative read is Kyo Maclear’s Birds, Art, Life, Death: A Year of Observation . I read a lot of nature writing, and I’ve been really interested in how that genre has begun to intersect with biography and autobiography for a few years now. Writing about birds as a way of writing about one’s inner life is a sort sub-genre of that sub-genre, which seems to have assumed renewed popularity since the publication of Helen MacDonald’s H is for Hawk. Now, I rather enjoyed H is for Hawk, but I know that isn’t the case for everyone, and I recall a conversation with a literary agent who, when the subject of this book came up rolled her eyes at me and said in rather pointed terms that she felt it was “just too much.” This lead to a really interesting discussion about good editing, and the levels of emotional detachment that were probably necessary for good autobiographical writing. For me, there’s an overlapping ethical debate, too, about the “uses” of birds or nature in the service of the restoration of one’s ego, and these questions are always at the back of my mind while enjoying, as I do, a fairly large number of recently published books about nature and the outdoors.
If you were feeling particularly grumpy or misanthropic while reading Maclear, you could certainly make an argument about the questionable use of birds to restore a troubled or damaged self, but that would be a narrow and mean interpretation of what’s a really charming book. There aren’t many contemporary authors who manage to be funny and self-deprecating while covering the difficult subject of their own grief and anxiety, but Maclear does this with appealing lightness of touch. The daughter of a Japanese mother and an English father, Maclear has spent most of her life in Toronto, the city where she discovers birds and birdwatching over the course of a year with the help of a local musician, in whose birding steps she follows. While this is certainly a book about finding the wonder in watching birds, it’s also got a lot to say about ideas of the everyday and ordinary, about urban life and nature in the city (an interesting and important topic), about the ways that writers wrestle to find meaning in their writing, and about parenting and parenthood.
The book’s closing chapters – in which Maclear counters Bertolt Bercht’s To Those Born Later with the words of Adrienne Rich’s What Kind of Times are These – really floored me (do go and read both poems if you have the time). I also learned unusual facts about John Cage’s mushroom obsession.
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I’ve not provided any direct links to the books I’ve read this week, as I’d encourage you to seek them out from your local independent bookseller (many of whom are adeptly adapting their operations for online sales) or to buy them directly (when possible) from the publisher. Publishing and bookselling are just two of the important cultural industries who really need our support right now!
Ann Wroe, Six Facets of Light (Vintage, 2016)
Jonathan Crary, 24/7 (Verso, 2014) (can be bought directly from the publisher )
Kyo Maclear, Birds, Art, Life, Death (Published in Canada by Doubleday; in the US by Scribner and in the UK by 4th Estate, 2017).
How did you get so poppular and in how much time? I’m starting with my blogs but no one had read my posts yet. Btw, sorry for my english, it s not my native language
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Correction: Maclear.
Oh dear, I’m so sorry.
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worry not, Ann. Predictive text is the worst!
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I am interested in delving deeper into the issue of human appropriation of nature/animals for our own psychological purposes. I would love to hear a few more reading recommendations on that topic. Sometimes I struggle with the correct word choice to research efficiently. I recently became adoptive mum to Toby, an intelligent (and handsome) young dog. I began writing about our story from the very beginning for various reasons, one of which was because my therapist was pushing for me to get him evaluated as a service animal and to begin professional training. As I highly respect her guidance and we have a very productive relationship in other matters, I did pursue several meetings with a trainer. But I struggled with a nagging feeling in my gut that actually pursuing training at that time wouldn’t help my relationship with Toby, but it took me a while to feel confident enough to act on that feeling. I stopped training and instead relaxed into getting to know and observe Toby without pressure, using what I’d learned to help us both live better together. I’d like to continue on a path that honors nature and pets on their own terms and balances with the benefits that I am blessed to enjoy just by living with them. Thank you for always sharing your own experiences and thoughts with us.
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I totally understand your approach to Toby – sure Toby appreciates it too. I hope you are still writing your story! ‘ll have a think about some recommendations – reading a lot around this topic at the moment.
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I am a sucker for a well-crafted book review, particularly on a book adjacent to my particular areas of interest so your post was particularly welcome. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have given the Crary book the time of day without your thoughtful analysis. Alas, I’ve already developed a teetering pile of quarantine reading from my local independent but I may need to make some more purchases.
Thank you for not reflexively linking to the bookselling conglomerate. They are not the only source for quality books.
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I so enjoyed reading this post Kate. I find it very refreshing to read about books which have actually been read rather than “reviewed” by some, at times, anonymous reviewer. One of the things which I most enjoy about your posts is how they lead on to other things/ places. I found myself listening to and enjoying John Cage’s In a Landscape. I think I probably heard it many years ago but didn’t listen. Thanks for pointing me in this direction.
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Correction: Ravilious. (Predictive text..!?)
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I love Ravilious’ work and, happily, had on a my shelf Ravilious &Co The Pattern of Friendship by Andy Friend, I think you’d enjoy it. The gift of extra time to read is something I’m really enjoying and embracing.
Thank you for reminding me of Private Passions.
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Thank you for putting these books on my radar! I actually just finished reading your book, Handywoman. I enjoyed it very much, and now need another good read. Six Facets of Light and 24/7 are both going on my list. I’m interested in how much Crary’s thoughts overlap with Tricia Hersey’s work in The Nap Ministry. If you aren’t already aware of it, I would recommend checking it out! Her work is deeply researched, multidisciplinary, and focused on sleep and rest as justice issues. Thanks so much for all the writing you do here!
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Thanks, Shannon. The Nap Ministry sounds right up my street!
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Thank you for sharing what you have been reading! There are so many books available these days. This provides a way to narrow down the choices a bit while at the same time expanding the types of books I read. The books you shared today all sound interesting. I’m off to locate a couple and add them to my reading list.
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There is the stack of books that others have insisted that I need to read; there is the stack I’ve discovered myself and want to read… And then there’s that magical intersection of the two, where I can anticipate a creative conversation afterwards. Thank you, Kate, for providing a landscape full of places where readers and conversation can meet.
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Thank you Kate! I had noted Kyo Maclear’s book when it came out, but it somehow fell off my list and I’m grateful to you for reminding me of it, bearing in mind the reservation, which I share, about “using” animals and nature for our purposes – plants and animals exist in their own right. (I well remember her father, a longtime CBC journalist.) More especially, I will seek out Ann Wroe’s book – my kind of writer, I suspect, Anglican sensibility and all. Probably won’t read Crary but loving the idea of sleep as anti-capitalist. Kate, you and Tom and your staff are endlessly interesting and engaging.
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Read the paragraph that begin, “24/ undermines…”to my husband. The abstract concept of 24/7 is why I didn’t want some jobs at work because it was a 24/7 responsibility and I didn’t want my life or my family consumed by the responsibilities. It wasn’t worth the extra money, perceived prestige, to be away from my family. And the 24/7 news cycle which is mostly a re hash of the hash other people say. It’s why I like camping. Nothing but me, the out doors, and what to fix for the next meal! Thank you so much for your sharing!
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Kate, thank you for sharing what you’ve been reading. I’m always looking for new ideas through books, and these sound thought provoking. Have a lovely week.
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I move house frequently and, at roughly a book per week, would quickly be overwhelmed and bankrupt if I bought every book to catch my eye. However, having lived near several good used bookstores, I have a quite a collection of To Be Read books. Many are out of print (my only chance to read this book!) or very long (I’ll have to renew the library loan a half-dozen times to finish!), so clearly the only feasible solution at the time was to purchase that very copy and take it home. These occupy a special shelf, separate from beloved books that have earned a permanent home. Now I am determined to finish and re-house them, and it is funny to see how disparate they are: vampires! India! folklore of the American southeast! Australian epic fiction! Thanks for sharing, Kate, I am always interested in what others are reading and how they came to it…and you never know what influences may pop up in a pattern down the line: all is forgotten, nothing is lost.
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Another wonderful gift from KDD.
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thank you for the suggestions-i already have a very healthy pile of books to read but will find some place for a couple more. :) As stores are now closed on Sundays(rest for all these hard working members of society), I feel we could learn from this time- not sure we need all these stores opened all the time for the sake of convenience: perhaps as a society, we can find time to reflect on notions of convenience, essentiality (is that a word?) and worth- as always, your posts are thought provoking and enlightening.
thank you
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Many thanks indeed for these articles, highly stimulating & enjoyable. Bertolt Bercht’s and Adrienne Riches’ poetry is stunning. I can’t afford to buy books & daren’t go into bookshops for I always succumb and I have no room anyway for any More! But I will be requesting them from my local library, together Ann Wroe and Kyo Maclure, also Eric Rivilioux. They are very good & always do their best for me, even buying on occasion. But it really hurts me to give back a book I’ve been involved with… My dream would be A Library. I had reading lists in my handbag, on my desk, the bedside table, even on the stairs,but just had to give them up (mostly), for there’s not enough years in my lifetime to read all the books I want to (especially now, in my 70s)! x
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I really enjoyed hearing about your recent reads and the Eric Ravilious artworks are glorious (particularly love Train Landscape). Somehow I appear to have just ordered both Six Facets of Light and 24/7, not that I’m exactly short of books …
I’ve been reading a lot of what I think of as ‘dippable’ books recently, books with short self-contained pieces/chapters/essays rather than one long immersive narrative. Just before my local library closed down I borrowed Jeremy Hardy Speaks Volumes: Words Wit, Wisdom, One-Liners and Rants, so I’ve now got that on loan for an unknown period of time. I’ve taken to picking it up and reading just a few pages at a time to amuse myself.
Something else I’m dipping into is These Are The Hands: Poems from the Heart of the NHS. All proceeds go to the NHS Charities Together Covid 19 appeal, and copies can be ordered direct from the publisher (ebook or print-on-demand paper copy, mine took around 10 days to arrive): https://fairacrepress.co.uk/shop/these-are-the-hands-poems-from-the-heart-of-the-nhs/
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I’ll echo Ajalj’s comment: I really appreciate your daily posts right now. I hope writing them is also bringing you and your loved ones balm (well, I’m sure Bob would rather you get it over with and go outside and throw him a STICK).
As for books, I am not a sophisticated reader, by any means, but when it became clear that not going out was the smart thing to do, well before the official order to do so, I went first to a used book store and bought 11 books – and then to a grocery store. I just finished the 7th book in the pile, Cliff Walk by Don Snyder, which is about his firing from a college professor job and the hard, hard struggle over two years or so to realize there is more to life than academia and the privileges he thought he deserved by dint of hard work. It was so worth reading, I finished it in one (very late) night.
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I so look forward to reading your daily posts- always so beautifully written and thought provoking. Thank you .
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thanks for reading!
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