Month: October 2007

Gorging

Not only on plums, but on the delectable words of Tove Jansson. Her writing is so clear and spare — invigorating in the way that I imagine a day in the Finnish forest would be. Somehow her prose gives equal weight to the spaces between the words (and between what is said and what is unsaid) as to the words themselves. When the biscuit was new I stood by the bookcase in the bedroom re-reading episodes from Jansson’s masterpiece, The Summer Book, whilst joggling her to sleep. Sophia and Grandmother’s adventures and arguments, the worlds conjured from their imaginations, all reminding me that the tiny bundle in my arms would grow to delight in the smallest of things. The Summer Book reminds me of my relationship with my own grandma — the conspiracy of old and young and their powerlessness against the whims and fates of the generation between them. It’s about life and death, creativity and nature; it’s about how, without despair or equivocation, we can live our lives in the full knowledge of …