All posts tagged: Vikram Seth

February

February. I’m not so sure about February. January is so stark and clean: the year stretching ahead, the diary empty, the slate wiped & resolve high. Then February comes along & things start to get muddied by reality. Who knows whether I’m achieving everything I wanted to when the year began? Certainly not me because I’m not opening my diary to find out. (This is also how I found myself running back to school with a hastily made packed-lunch yesterday morning after forgetting that it was the day of the Moose’s school trip to the science centre.) Still. Here’s what I know I have done. I finished Anna Karenina last Saturday night. I loved it & keep waking up thinking about it. Whenever I read a classic I find myself thinking oh! that’s why it’s so famous & beloved! and wondering why I didn’t read it years ago. My mind is still fizzing with remembered connections and echoes, and it seems the kind of book that needs to be revisited at different stages of life. (Clearly I’ve already missed some angles!) …

Reflections & intentions

The weather is mild again. The little ones are back at school. The Pip-Pop cried after we’d dropped them off and were walking to town. ‘Popsy go to school too, Mumma. Popsy want school.’ I feel jet-lagged — waking a full three hours earlier than I was by the end of the holidays. Through the loft window the sky is a dazzling turquoise and the clouds — fat and white with heavy gray bases — are racing by. If I think back, without looking, at what I read last year these are the ones I loved: Crossing to Safety, The Lowland, Leaving the Atocha Station, Light Years, A Suitable Boy and Daybook. And for this year I have a few projects in mind. I’d love to read/re-read all of Penelope Fitzgerald & Michael Ondaatje. I’d like to continue with my pencil in my hand, and I want to continue to start & end my days with a poem. T (seven & a half) is leaving me far behind her. At breakfast she told me the …

Books talking to books

The characters I’m reading about all seem to be doing their own reading. In A Suitable Boy, Lata is reading Emma and Haresh is reading The Mayor of Casterbridge. Sandeep Lahiri, the young Sub-Divisional Officer of Rudia, is reading Howards End. In contrast to these very English choices, Mrs Rupa Mehra recites a passage from the Bhagavad Gita each morning. Decline and Fall (1928) opens with Paul Pennyfeather looking forward to reading another chapter of John Galsworthy’s Forsyte Saga in bed. Later, Pennyfeather marks his place in a volume of The Golden Bough by Charles Frazer, taking me neatly back to my other reading, The Waste Land (1922), which T.S. Eliot acknowledges is indebted to ‘a work of anthropology…which has influenced our generation profoundly; I mean The Golden Bough‘. I love these little sparks & frissons; books talking to books. The Biscuit is making her way through Matilda for about the sixth time, which reminded me of the wonderful list of books that the four-year-old Matilda reads under the ‘watchful and compassionate’ eye of Mrs Phelps the …

The Examined Life

Today the wind is banging the sash windows against their frames. The rain is fast and steady. It’s that time of year when I compulsively buy bunches of daffodils at the supermarket checkout. Fat buds within dry, papery spathes. And then – miraculously – overnight they split open, and at breakfast we’re greeted by a vase of glorious sunshine-yellow coronas. On the drive to pre-school we pass banks of snowdrops. Sheep nibbling the sodden grass at the edge of temporary lakes in the flooded fields. A village where blue pipes drain water away from the houses, out onto the road. ‘It’s a river now,’ observes the Moose cheerily. My thoughts linger with the owner’s of these – and so many other – flooded homes. It’s a week for catching up. I’m trying to get back on track with Dovegreyreader’s A Suitable Boy read. I’m somewhere back in part 6, and this month is, I think, parts 9 and 10. I stopped somewhere before Christmas, but it’s proved incredibly easy to slip back in. I love …