Anakana Schofield

Ha! Just pounced upon another treat: an ebook that may prove very useful and full of treasure

A bibliographical list of the works that have been published or are known to exist in ms that are illustrative of the various dialects in English. Compiled by Members of The English Dialect Society Edited by Rev Skeat and J H Nodal.

I have to confess I quite expired with excitement on discovering this title was included: The Handbook of Weather Folklore being a collection of proverbial sayings in various languages etc… (The description included the term: weather fiction)

In hummingbird state I depart in search of it.

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Post script

Alas I return a pigeon, it wasn’t to be found. I’ll try to find it through the library instead.

Malarky mentioned in today’s Irish Times book column

So touched to see Malarky mentioned in the Loose Leaves column in today’s Irish Times. Thank you so much to the journalists who work in the book section there and to everyone who has responded warmly and with an open mind to my novel. It has been a very long 10 years, so am deeply appreciative.

Happy Days!

London the health resort

Here it is as promised a few days ago another snip from William Macrie’s The Diary of a London Explorer (1934)

From the section entitled What is London?

“London’s master problem is gambling. There is no drink problem.

London is a health resort. According to Dr. Saleeby London’s water is the finest in the world. See Naples and die. See London and live.

London’s greatest glory is its port.”

I should explain that Macrie founded The London Explorers Club and this book documents his walks and various engagements with his city and its surrounding areas.

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I have to confess the entire time I lived in London I did not detect any noticeable health benefits from the experience. Maybe I needed to spend more time at the port to acquire them!

Major treat I just tripped over… The Pothole Gardener! Lovely idea.

The reread of DH Lawrence’s The Rainbow sends me back strangely to consider another read of Irene Baird’s pastoral Vancouver Island set novel John. (1937)

I think I left it too soon. Something in Lawrence’s early invocation of place in The Rainbow (1915) made me think of how Baird sets up her novel initially and now I must go back and read, the early part again to see where it sits.

 

Two snips from a mildly curious topographical book I am reading on London by William Macrie: In a section called What is London? this:

“The Elephant and Castle is said to be the geographical centre of London”

Who knew? Certainly not me when I lived precisely there. I always thought I was living in the deep South. There was also a description of Southwark Cathedral surrounded by Borough Potato Market insisting this gave it the “human touch”

Tomorrow I’ll give you the classic part about the healing properties of London water. (I think he’s referring to tap water, not random puddles)

 

 

 

 

Sparked cardigans

Yesterday I was listening to Spark and was fascinated by a discussion on binary. I was just thinking to myself as I listened how much I enjoy that CBC radio programme about techology, despite not being amongst the more technologically sharp. I noticed a status update today on Facebook read “Is there anything more boring than listening to people talk about the internet on the radio” and then beneath it someone had typed Spark? Not far underneath it another person had written ..yes people talking about cardigans and cited a programme last Thursday where cardigans were discussed.

I had to chuckle as cardigans are one of my favourite topics. I have so many conversations with strangers about their cardigans. They are one of the few items I would go shopping for. (Other than wood I like shopping for wood and tools and books). My granny’s cardigan is on the chair as I type this and it’s completely undefeated in terms of the wind. All these fancy coats and you’re still pulling them around you. Put on Granny’s cardigan and you’ve got instant feathers. Plus it has half of one button missing, it looks like someone chomped it.

Day of the Snowy Owl

I spent the morning viewing the Snowy Owls who are currently visiting us from the arctic. Incredible to see them, they are magnificent.

There were about 30 of them hanging out at Boundary Bay this morning, more female owls than male. Several flew, so I was able to witness their incredible wingspan. But what I admire most about them is their plummage. The downy, puff puff factor. They even have feathers on their talons and beaks.

Three owls were preening and cleaning with their heads turned backwards and dug deep into their back feathers. One of them puffed her bum up and did a bit of a stretch. The owl who was the furtherest along the dike was very restless and she shifted several times. However they all seemed happy and bright and people were respectful and did not enter the marsh. Except a couple who didn’t go near the owls and walked down to the sea (I think). Personally I would have waited to walk to the sea incase it disturbed them. There are going to be plenty months where you can walk to the sea and this influx of Snowy Owls is so incredible a sight that we don’t want to upset them.

On the way back, we saw a Peregrine Falcon sitting on a barn roof, lots of eagles hanging out at the tops of trees and swans in the fields, but it was the day of the Snowy Owls. That was the day that was in it today. Wow! Such mesmerizing creatures. Am particularly grateful to the friends who insisted I must visit them and drove me there early this morning, despite my protest that I can’t, I’ve too much work to do.

Malarky selected for Barnes & Noble Summer 2012 Discover Great New Writers program

Some wonderful, if not miraculous news for my novel Malarky (publishing March 15): Barnes & Noble have selected Malarky for their Summer 2012 Discover Great New Writers program.

Some of my favourite writers like Colum McCann, Cormac McCarthy and many more were previously been selected for this program. 

I sincerely thank the committee of volunteer booksellers, who made the selection and who volunteer their time and labour to do so. I look forward to hearing from and meeting readers who may discover Malarky because of this program.

Merci encore! This is incredible news!

 


Readings: mobile, static and inbetween

A couple of days of most engaging reading. My mobile reading (done usually when walking, exercising or during any pause of the day) is a reread of Lawrence’s The Rainbow on my phone. I love reading ebooks. I like the palm sized paragraphs, that I digest one at a time and I like the physicality of the finger sweep — almost a bit like conducting and the rhythm it establishes.

My more static reading, a large thick hard back, is curiously currently about a motorway the M25. London Orbital by Iain Sinclair.

I have a bunch of inbetween readings that are forming a dérive.

All three types of reading are inter-informed by other texts that I’ve previously or recently read that form their own questions as I read this current crop. (Imagine a bowling alley, the questions come down the lanes usually aiming at one current text) In essence the past reading is poking through the current reading and saying hey come back here a minute and consider or come here to me a minute I want to show you something.

I maintain that ebooks are giving us new ways of reading and new ways of thinking about reading. I do not agree with Jonathan Franzen’s recent drone on the topic. Indeed I think the only thing I agree with Franzen on may be birds and I wonder what the birds make of him (and us). My friend Leannej has some indications in her Birds Hate Us — An exploration of birds in a time of Avian paranoia amongst other things.

Leanne taught me to can this summer and it was the most useful thing I learned all year, the Japanese handsaw tutorials from Peter came in a very close second it must be said.

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Today I had some very fortunate experiences with very well mannered and helpful people. It reminded me how intolerable bad manners are and that people who deliberately practice them, often as a bloodsport, should not be indulged. Artists can sometimes be very bad mannered and consciously so, perhaps they imagine it gives them an edge, a certain cache. It doesn’t. One merely ends up visualizing a granny behind them, shaking her head, disgusted. It strikes me if you cannot treat people with dignity, it’s likely that you have no dignity yourself and should probably pause to figure out why.

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