Spring Staycation 2014

The river entrance at the end of Raukawa Rd.

Counting on the fact that early September often tends to be pretty nice, weatherwise, I'm taking
this coming week on annual leave.

I created a bit of a bucket list for the week. Two of the things on it were exercise and taking more photos, and already I've done some of both. Lovely day today and I woke early, so by just after 8.30 I got on my bike and then decided to head out to Ashhurst and see if I could
find where the bike path by the river starts on the Ashhurst road, seeing as it hasn't reached Palmie yet. Mission accomplished, with a break at the Wetlands Cafe in the Ashhurst Domain.

The track - Ashhurst is 3.2 km from here. 

View of the river and ranges.

End of the track at the Ashhurst bridge. 

Wetlands Cafe, Ashhurst Domain. Feijoa frappe, National Geographics.

This weekend

Having stumbled across Cozy little book journal's subblog (is that a word?) My Shakespeare Year, I spent much of yesterday afternoon and evening reading it. Her aim was to read all Shakespeare's plays in a year (nine months actually). By the way, I love these crazy goals. Reading the whole Encyclopedia Britannica, obeying all Biblical commands for a year, cooking your way through Julia Child, going a year without buying anything new...the Extreme New Year's Resolution genre. The closest I ever came was the year I decided I was only going to read fiction by women. Non-fiction wasn't subject to the same restriction. And I believe I did, although I may have given myself a dispensation if Terry Pratchett published something new.

Sadly, Mary Beatnik ran out of steam midway through the year, but I still salute her. She read 22 of them, including several of the very obscure ones. And I enjoyed her blog, with it's Wordles and Lego and sock monkey Scenes from Shakespeare, and have put a hold on a book she reviewed: Shakespeare saved my life: 10 years in Solitary with the Bard, by Laura Bates.

I'm also reading Bossypants by Tina Fey, which is rather scattershot, but very funny (duh). We've also downloaded the Kindle app, so we can get Dirty Politics as an e-book. It's cheaper than the print, which  most people think is the way it should be. Not me - I'm a librarian. I know that the argument that it costs so much less to produce is absolute horsefeathers. An academic (I'll call him Todd) recommended we buy a particular book last week, and when I checked it and compared the print price and the electronic price, I choked and ordered the print. The email exchange then went:

Me: Ordered a print copy. The electronic price was horrifying for a book published in 1998.
Todd: I know! The same price as the paperback!!
Me: Ha! That's for individuals. For a library, for multiple users, it was more than 4 times the print price! [360 USD, if you're interested.]
Todd: WHAT???!!!*(&(_($%^%$^!!!*





*Todd's actual response has been amplified for dramatic effect.

A moment of happiness

​Have you ever had the experience of seeing a book somewhere, and then looking for years for it without success? And then finding it? It's a moment of almost pure happiness and anticipation. 

The first time this happened to me was a book about cult books (books that attracted a cult following like The hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy) that appeared on National Library's new books shelf and then seemingly vanished without a trace. I must have searched their catalogue for every combination of words meaning 'cult' and 'novel' possible. I might even have gone through all books with 'cult' in the record at one point. 

I can't remember how I found it, or even the explanation of why the best efforts of a professional searcher had failed to locate it. But I did find it - by accident of course, years later. Happiness! I'm not sure the book itself quite lived up to years worth of curiosity, but still. 

I've just had that experience again. At my high school library, there was a collected works of Shakespeare that had an insert of photos for each play. Even plays that get produced once in a blue moon, like Cymbeline​and Pericles​. Photos from British productions with actors like Alec Guinness, John Gielgud, Claire Bloom, Sir Laurence Olivier, and Vivien Leigh. The latter two starred in Shakespeare's celebrated gorefest Titus Andronicus. ​I read quite a few of Shakespeare's plays with the encouragement of those photos. 

Of course, I left school without noting down the publisher, and ever since then I'll occasionally flick through old Collected Shakespeares in second hand shops on the off chance. 

Today I discovered that book on Massey's shelves. I'm happy. 

In other book news, I've finished reading Angle of repose, by Wallace Stegner, a great novel about the American West, marriage, success and many other things. I'd never heard of Stegner before reading Crossing to safety as a book club book. (Yes, of course I belong to a book club.) He writes wonderful descriptions of landscape (New England in Crossing to Safety) and environment, and both books contain fascinating portraits of marriages. Both, now I come to think of it, of women in love with their husbands, but ambitious for them in a way their husbands' are not. 

Also, I passed on to David the book about Putin, who ate it up, and is fiery with indignation. 

P.G Wodehouse fan rave

I'm having a P.G. Wodehouse (is it pronounced Woodhouse or Woadhouse?) thing at the moment. This has been driven by:

• finding the whole set of Wodehouse Playhouse with the divine John Alderton and the stunning Pauline Collins on it. I love them. Love them. If you like the frocks on Downton Abbey and Miss Fisher Investigates but also like extreme silliness, I recommend them to you as well. If you can find them. see below for a sample. Failing that, read his novels.
• I read Sebastian Faulks' homage, Jeeves and the Wedding Bells, which struck just the right note I felt. Given Wodehouse is dead (sob! Ok he lasted til about 93, but still!), there's licence for him to do some tying up, which he does. And it's funny and respectful, and it made me get out 3 of the novels from the library
• Of them I have finished Joy in the morning, which is one of the best Jeeves and Wooster novels
• I have a feeling I may be hunting down the Fry and Laurie Jeeves and Wooster series next. 

I am taking a break before I read more Wodehouse though - I'm reading The Man without a face, by Masha Gessen. It's a biography of Vladimir Putin, which is topical of course. But even 50 pages in, the depiction of the grimness and corruption of post-Soviet life will make Wodehouse's light-hearted froth as welcome as a warm fire on a wet day. 

Quitting dieting

I got an enormous amount out of the city library today - 11 items, but this post is just about two of them.
They are Health at every size, by Linda Bacon, and The emotional eater's repair manual, by Julie Simon. These are related to the decision I made a few weeks ago that I was going to give up trying to lose weight. Which is, to be honest, a decision that is proving problematic. I have no idea if I've gained or lost weight, I have no idea if my balance of 'healthy' days to 'over-eating' days is worse or better than it was - because I'm no longer weighing myself or monitoring what I eat.

I feel anxious tho' - I feel like I'm on a staircase with no railing. The theory of quitting dieting as laid out in Health at every size is that once all foods are 'allowed', that eventually you start eating what your body needs and finds equilibrium. I'm not sure I trust that theory yet! Part of it is that when I made my decision, I happily read the fun, early bits of Health at every size about dieting being a crock, but skipped the bits about actually developing a healthy relationship with food (hey, it was due back at the library). Hence I've got it out again, along with Simon's book to try and engage with that a bit. Possibly I should actually consider buying my own copy...

I don't actually feel my relationship with food is all that unhealthy. I loathe all fad diets - moderation in all things is my food mantra. However I do have times when I just eat, well past the point of satisfaction, with little discrimination. Usually because I'm bored, or really want to do something else, and often, I've realised as a big Fuck off to my normal controlled, well-behaved self! So my eating is at least mildly disordered - along with, I imagine, almost every other woman in the developed world.

I also actually like my body. I think it looks nice. I dress it well. I don't flinch at shopping for togs. My layer of subcutaneous fat keeps me looking younger than I am. But for the last two years, I've been wanting to get to the weight of 69.5 kilos. This is the magic number at which my BMI would be under 25. At that number I would OFFICIALLY no longer be overweight. (I wonder if the Ministry of Health would have sent me flowers?) And over the last two years, I've upped the monitoring of my exercising and what I eat. To little effect - I'm pretty much still the same weight.

Why have I given up dieting? (Why not?) Two big reasons. I got mad again**. Mad at the culture that bangs on and on about weight, the culture that makes women* feel that losing weight is one of the most amazing thing they can achieve in their lives, the judgement about being overweight, the corresponding bitchiness to and jealousy of thin women - just all of it. The other reason is I started wondering what would happen if all the mental energy absorbed by weight watching and worrying was freed up for other things. Very possibly all that will happen, knowing me, is that I'll read more! But who knows? That's the thing with opening up space - you don't know what will fill it.




* and men, but I do feel the impact is particularly noxious for women given the other societal obsession with women and beauty.
** If you would like to feel mad too, with a nice mix of inspired, you could have a listen to Cat Pause (sorry Cat, don't know how to get an accent over the e).

The dreaded list of books

There's something fascinating and repulsive about books with names like 693 books you must read to be considered even marginally cultured. There's the geekish thrill of realising that you are 18.6% of the way through the list, weighed against the resentment about being told what to read. And of course there's the danger of building enormous To Read lists, which if taken seriously can suck all the joy out of reading.

However, on Friday afternoon I went out with David while he visited one of his customers. While he imparted his wisdom I chatted with the customer's partner. My eye had been drawn to the four piles of library books beside the couch - one of which, intriguingly, had Religion for atheists, by Alain de Botton, and The case for God, by Karen Armstrong. I mentioned the piles and so started an enjoyable conversation about libraries and then books. Eventually she produced a 2014 'Book a day' calendar, and a copy of 501 must read books, and a pen and paper.

Drawn in, I listed about 10 books before David finished up the consultation. Instead of letting the list moulder, I've put holds on various of them, have already some out from the Palmie library, and will get the others from Massey tomorrow. One, annoyingly, is not held by any of the 13 libraries I have free access to - I may have to interloan it. Or buy it of course, but I've done a bit of that lately and after seeing what this year's insurance payments have done to our revolving credit, I'm feeling frugal.

The books are:
1. What we talk about when we talk about Anne Frank, Nathan Englander. Anne Frank is one of my heroes.
2. Lifeboat, Charlotte Rogan.
3. Home, Toni Morrison. I'm reading this at the moment - the first book by Toni Morrison I've read.
4. Defending Jacob, William Landay
5. The Red House, Mark Haddon.
6. No cheating, no dying: I had a good marriage - then I tried to make it better, Elizabeth Weil.
7. Murder in the first-class carriage, Kate Colquhoun. I was quite surprised that the city library didn't have this. Murder, Victoriana, trains? What more does it need, gardening tips?
8. The story of Charlotte's Web, Michael Sims.
9. Stalingrad, Antony Beevor. The 501 books...book actually specified his book about the fall of Berlin, but I've read a bit about Berlin in 1945 so decided that this would still count.
10. A distant mirror, Barbara Tuchman. This has been on my mental to read list since my late teens anyway.
11. The diary of Alice James.
12. The 7 storey mountain, Thomas Merton.
13. The Master and Margarita, Mikhail Bulgarov.

The last five look a bit dauntingly high-brow, but 11 and 13 will take about a week to arrive, so I'll have had a chance to knock some of 3, 2, 5 and 6 off my list by then.

I also got out from the library an issue of the Utne Reader, which I highly recommend to anyone interested in the United States and a good antidote to the high-gloss images we normally see, and an issue of the Literary Review. Clearly, I still haven't got the desire to add to my list out of my system!

Buying books in the 'Tron

I spent from Saturday to Wednesday in Hamilton this week at the LIANZA conference. Conference started early Sunday arvo, but due to the tediousness of air travel between regional centres, me and the rest of the Massey contingent left Saturday lunchtime. However apart a dull two hours in Auckland airport, I can't complain because we really made the most of our time in the Tron before conference.

We went to an Italian restaurant, Adriana's (so good, we went again on Monday night). Then three of us went to the Lido to see Behind the Candelabra. Really good acting, amazing bling-y sets. I did hope that they would show Liberace in his infamous stars and stripes hotpants, but sadly not. Maybe Michael Douglas put his foot down! Rob Lowe was also born for the role of the plastic surgeon/drug dealer.

Sunday morning I walked along the river walkway to the next bridge and back through various pretty parks. Next was the Art Gallery, and the Waikato Museum. The Waikato Museum had an exhibition about the Big Muffin Serious Band! My love for the BMSB is either the zenith or nadir of my fondness for silly music. A punk version of 'Dream a little dream of me', a Scottish take on 'Johnny Be Goode' (Jimmy Be Goode, natch, who plays the ukelele). Love. Lunch at a cafe featured in the museum's coffee exhibition. And we discovered a second-hand bookshop, Browsers, that stays open til 9.30 pm 7 days a week!

So I've been buying books lately. I usually try and avoid this, for both space and money reasons, but I still have a house full of the things. I have a huge urge to buy Doctor Sleep which I'm currently resisting.  (This may not last - everyone seems to be raving about it.) The library does have copies, but I dread to think how many holds are on it. Probably not the 1900+ that are on The Luminaries in Auckland. I bought Inequality: A New Zealand crisis after listening to Max Rashbrooke, one of the authors/editors, give a talk out at Massey. Unbelievably, Massey has had copies on order since July!

At Browsers, I bought 4 books: The Penguin Book of Love Poetry, edited by Jon Stallworthy; Pyrates, by George MacDonald Fraser; The English Monster, by Lloyd Shepherd; and The History of Myddle, by Richard Gough.

Pyrates and The Penguin book of love poetry are replacement books - in both cases I lent them out and lost contact with the borrowers. I haven't read MacDonald Fraser's other books, but Pyrates is hilarious. I first discovered it at the Lower Hutt Public Library as a teen. It's set in the fantasy pirate age of Errol Flynn movies and here is a random quotation:

Avery's head swam, and he could not repress a ruptured squawk as he conned the lead paragraph: "Buccaneering and official naval circles were rocked from truck to keelson last week by the dastardly defection..." there it was, the lying tale of his supposed betrayal...the loss of the crown, Vanity's abduction, the breakfast menu for the fatal day... but not a word of his defiance when they fed him to the sharks.

I'm never lending it again.