I was pondering updating my What I’m Reading page earlier, and in doing so got to reminiscing about all the many books that have come into and gone out of my life over the past year or so.  I love to keep a note of the books I’ve read, mainly because I seem to use them as a means of mapping out my life.  Last year, for example, I remember finishing New Europe by Michael Palin on one of the windiest days we had, when going outside wasn’t even an option.  I also vividly remember reading Committed by Elizabeth Gilbert on the grass in front of the leaning tower of Pisa in May, when the sun was so hot I couldn’t possibly have walked anywhere other than the nearest gelato kiosk.  Books are to me what I guess diaries are to people who use them properly: a record of one’s life, and a reminder of the little things that have happened that we might otherwise simply forget in our haste to keep moving forward.

With all the free time I had last Summer and all the many bus journeys I seem to have taken since starting my new job, I seem to have managed to read an impressive pile of books over the course of the past 12 months.  So in case you find yourself looking for a little literary inspiration this January, here are some recommendations based on what I’ve read and enjoyed recently.

If you want to read a classic but you dislike ‘the classics’, read Jane Eyre.  The writing is digestible, the characters aren’t annoying and although it’s a love story at heart it’s not sickly sweet and schmaltzy.  I read this during the first couple of weeks at my new job last September.  It was welcome respite at the end of busy days full of new faces and things.

If you want to laugh really hard until you think you might pee a little, read either Bossypants by Tina Fey, or Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby.  Either one will produce the desired effect.

If you want to be gripped, read The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.  I blame this book (and its two sequels) for many a groggy-headed morning in October and November.  I literally couldn’t put it down.  Not even for sleep, or to finish making a cup of tea.

If you want to learn things you’ll remember and that will make you sound knowledgeable, read A Little History of the World by E.H. Gombrich.  This is definitely in my top 3 reads from last year.  It’s full of interesting stuff, but it’s also written in such a way that reading it doesn’t feel like learning.  In fact, reading it feels like drinking hot chocolate in front of a roaring log fire while it snows outside.  It’s perfect.

If you want to escape, read His Dark Materials trilogy.  There are enough ideas in these three books to keep you thinking for months, and enough magic to rival the whole Harry Potter back-catalogue.

If you want to cry (sometimes I genuinely do want this from a book), read Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer.  This quickly became one of my favourite books of all time, and I read the whole thing in one evening.  It’s brilliant, and heart-breaking, and all kinds of life-affirming all at once.  I can’t recommend it highly enough.

If you just want to be entertained, read Boiling a Frog by Christopher Brookmyre.  This didn’t change the way I see the world, and it didn’t cause me profound, deep thoughts or the loss of any sleep.  But it was funny, it was intriguing and it really did entertain me.  And sometimes, when it comes to a book, that’s really all you need, isn’t it?

What have you read recently that’s worth recommending?

Image above from here.

I’m always a lucky lady when it comes to Christmas presents, and as most people in my life know, there’s no better way to win my heart than by giving me a book.  This year, The Christmas Book, edited by Sheherezade Goldsmith was waiting in my stocking come Christmas morning.  It’s essentially a tree-hugging call to arms: Christmas is, as many of us know, a fairly disastrous time of year for the environment.  All those gifts, all that wasted food and all of those many millions of binbags full of decimated wrapping paper with little tails of sellotape dangling listlessly from the edges. 

And that’s not even to mention the post-December graveyard of the Christmas trees (really, is there anything sadder?). 

I’m all for doing Christmas differently.  I like to wrap my gifts in newspaper or second-hand gift wrap; I only buy two or three presents anyway and I do my best to avoid anything devoid of meaning or a long lifespan (food excepted).  So The Christmas Book is, for all of us homemade hippies, something of a wonder.  It’s rammed full of gorgeous gift ideas (bath oils, hot water bottle covers, mulled wine kits), festive recipes (parsnip crisps, ginger cake, panettone) and tips on sourcing the most eco-friendly decorations, Christmas trees, turkey etc etc.  

And most of the projects look achievable, so much so that I doubt whether even novice crafters would be put off.  I already have plans to make lipbalm, pear chutney and herbal tea sachets once I get back to Edinburgh (I know, it’s called “The Christmas Book” but most of the ideas are adaptable for birthdays, weddings or “I made this and thought of you” occasions). 

So yes.  Lovely ideas, beautiful photography and boundless inspiration crammed into 350-odd pages.  The only thing that disappoints me is that a book which is fairly heavy handed in encouraging us to shop locally and to refrain from buying things that have walked carbon footprints halfway across the globe was printed and bound in Singapore, presumably before being flown to the UK for distribution.  While I’m sure there was a reason for that (and I sincerely hope there was more of a reason than money), it does somewhat cheapen the good work The Christmas Book attempts to do in encouraging us all to be a little more mindful over the festive season.  It also renders much of the ‘buy local produce’ rhetoric slightly sour and hypocritical.  I’m all for doing my bit for the planet, and I’ve lost count of the number of posts I’ve written about my disdain for the throwaway consumer culture that has become the UK.  So I’m with Goldsmith and her crafty crew 100%.  That said, I’m also of the view that principles should be lived by.  And in that regard, it would have been nice to see the “let’s all save the world” vibe that The Christmas Book does a pretty good job of creating reach as far as the manufacturing of the book itself.

So thumbs up to crafty ideas, gold star deducted for gross hypocrisy.  What are you reading this Christmas?

The penultimate day of the penultimate month of 2011 has been deathly cold and rainy round my way.  I scuttled, beetle-like, from home to bus to office to bus to home today in that depressing, wintery, never-saw-any-sunlight way which is by all accounts a little bit sad.  But given that there was very little daylight, let alone sunlight to be had anyway, no tears have been shed.  Plus, I saw a rainbow out of the window this morning, so it wasn’t all bad.

Thankfully, and gratitude being the general subject of this evening’s ramblings, there has been golden lamplight, spicy miso soup, blankets, reduced price flowers and pots of tea to enjoy tonight.  I’ll deliberately leave watching the news out of that cosy equation, although if you’d like a quick summary of the state of the nation as we enter December, the words DOOM, GLOOM, AUSTERITY and BANKERS seem to do a pretty fine job.

Anyway, I thought I would swoop down from my sofa nest to let you all know about a fantastic book I’m reading at the moment, and one that is helping me to think of the good that exists in the world, in spite of all I read in the paper.  The book is called In Europe, by Dutch writer Geert Mak.  Mak spent the whole of 1999 travelling around Europe, tracing the continent’s tumultuous passage through the 20th century as the Millennium bulldozed its way towards us.  The end result is a brilliant fusion of history and travel writing: immensely readable (it requires a little more concentration that some books but it handsomely rewards any effort you put in) and by turns hilarious and truly humbling.  If anyone is in need of something more ‘real’ than the tinsel, the credit cards and the John Lewis adverts this Winter I really would recommend giving this book a go.  Each time I put it down I feel a little more appreciative of the world we live in now, despite the spending cuts and the Tories and the Eurozone debt crisis.  I also feel a boundless sadness mixed with respect for the thousands of people throughout history who have worked and fought so hard for us to live the way we do now.  I am grateful that they did.  Truly so.

“Along the autoroute from Lille to Paris, the Battle of the Somme is only a tap of the accelerator.  In late Summer 1916, 1.2 million people died here, between two exits.  The motorway runs at a slight distance from the eastern boundary of the battlefield.  Drivers are kept informed of that as well, on big brown signs along the road, LA GRANDE GUERRE, the way a famous chateau or a pleasant vintage might be pointed out elsewhere.  Then they flash by, back into the serenity of present-day Picardy.

Here, the war has already entered the next phase, that of a popular tourist attraction, a mainstay of the region’s commercial infrastructure.  Everywhere one finds folders promoting these centres of infernal attraction; staying at my hotel – it is 15 February, the heart of Winter – there are at least three couples touring the front lines.  The museums compete by offering even more audio and visual effects.  For the first time in ages I can receive Dutch channels on the TV in my room.  On the news they are interviewing tourists who were stranded for a few days in a snow-bound Swiss village.  ’What we’ve been through!’ one tanned woman says.  ’We felt just like refugees.’  Another one cries ‘Everything, we’ve lost everything!’.  She’s talking about a suitcase full of skiing outfits and make-up.”

Image above from here.

Nearly the end of October {insert appropriate exclamation of disbelief here}!  I’m dazzled by 2011′s pace.  It seems to have outstripped a speedy 2010 by miles.  And here we all are, on the cusp of Winter, with high streets across the land just itching to vomit Christmas all over us (I actually saw a Christmas tree in a pub I visited last night.  I had to make a considerable effort not to pull it down and jump all over it in disgust shrieking “IT’S NOT EVEN NOVEMBER YET!!!” all the while).

This Autumn I’ve been enjoying work, cycling and catching up with a hundred different people, all of which feels great.  I took delivery of a beautiful, vintage-inspired yet still commuter friendly new bike last Wednesday, and have since been whizzing up and down the hills of my beloved Edinburgh to the office and back.  My last bike came in a box from Argos and I assembled it myself (initially, cough, putting the entire front section on backwards), so you can imagine my excitement at having a grown up set of fully functional wheels now.  It’s one pure adrenaline rush, and already I’m coming to value my eight miles on the road as the two parts of my day where I don’t ‘think’, I just ‘do’.  Dodging the buses and the potholes and fielding the occasional insult from an irate motorist mean I stay fully in the present moment.  It’s also inspiring me to toughen up - sometimes I even throw a mild insult back!  I’m finding it especially beneficial on the way home at night: by the time I’ve puffed my way up four miles of gradual inline, all thoughts of work are well and truly snuffed out and I’m ready to start the evening.

Free-wheeling aside, I’ve also had a satisfyingly foodie Autumn.  A couple of my friends from uni and I have started an unofficial dinner club, meeting every couple of weeks to share stories and laughs over hearty casseroles and the like.  In a similar vein, my boyfriend and I are finally getting round to trying some of Edinburgh’s lesser known (and independent, always independent) eateries, now that I have cash for that kind of thing.  Last week we went to Chop Chop (lovely little Chinese restaurant which featured on Gordon Ramsey’s F Word a couple of years ago) where I ate approximately twelve kilos of pork dumplings, crispy chicken and boiled rice.  Truly amazing, although I’d highly recommend some form of elasticated waistband if you intend to visit…

And READING.  At the moment I’m all over books about eastern Europe like a rash, and I’m also knee deep in Steig Larsson’s Millennium trilogy.  Swedish crime novels aren’t generally my go-to genre, but these are addictive.  Anyone else read them? 

So in lots of different respects, life is pretty good just now.  The only thing I’m lacking is time to blog and do creative stuff, which I have to say I’m really missing.  I haven’t taken my sewing machine out in months and the canvas I started painting in the Summer holidays is still sitting unfinished in my room.  A sorry sight indeed.  

I’m coming to realise, however, that there will never be time for me to do all the things I want to do, all at once.  And that’s OK.  Sometimes we just need to take a step back and focus on what’s right infront of us.  For me, this Autumn those things have been my career, my friends, food and Swedish crime novels.  My creative enterprises will simply have to wait until November.  Perfect timing for rustling up all those Christmas gifts, no?

What have you been doing this Autumn?

Image above from here.

“I want to stress that this book is not, and never was, intended to replace any textbooks of history that may serve a very different purpose at school.  I would like my readers to relax, and to follow the story without having to take notes or to memorise names and dates.  In fact, I promise that I shall not examine them on what they have read.”

A Little History of the World is, I think, one of the books I’ve been unknowingly waiting to read my entire life. A friend gifted it to me for my birthday last month, but it wasn’t until Friday just passed that I first picked it up.  To be perfectly honest, I was slightly sceptical at first; I love learning about history, but finding a book that just explains things without getting bogged down in dates and times and names of places, people and battles (gosh the battles), can be difficult.  I’m terrible with dates and I’m not so hot on names either so you can see why many a standard history text and I would fail to get along.  And it was because of this that my initial reaction to A Little History, along with my friend’s prediction that reading it was going to change the way I saw the world, was perhaps one of amused dubiety, rather than giddy enthusiasm.

Well you know what?  She only done and proved me wrong.

This book is amazing. It is beautiful.  It is all kinds of wonderfully enriching, life-affirming awesomeness.  I read the whole thing in four days straight and by the time I reached the end I was sobbing and wishing we could carry on some more.  Reading this book is like drinking warm milk while listening to a bedtime story, read to you by someone who wants nothing more than for you to enjoy learning.  From the sacred rituals of the ancient Egyptians to the glory of the Italian renaissance to the reasoned thinkers of the Enlightenment, Gombrich literally pieces together the jigsaw of the world’s history right before your very eyes.  As I read, I almost physically felt a whole bunch of abstract names of places and people I’d half-learned about at school slot into a context that I could actually understand without once wanting to stop for a cold drink and a lie down.  My patchy, pathetic knowledge of what happened when and who was responsible for it has undergone the most magical transformation in the space of only four days, and while I probably still couldn’t reel off many dates, I really do feel like I finally have some actual knowledge of how and why the world came to be the way it is.  Amazing, non?

Of course it helps that A Little History is intended to be read by children.  Gombrich was invited to complete the manuscript in 1935 after giving an unfavourable review to another writer’s draft.  He had just six weeks until submission when he agreed to take the project on, a timetable that propelled him into penning a chapter pretty much every single day.  As a consequence of the short period of time in which the book was written, as well as its intended purpose and audience, it is pleasingly free of references, footnotes and other distractions.  In fact, it really is told like a story.  A really rich, exciting story, full of interesting characters, wonderful adventures and jaw-dropping scandals.  And the best bit?  It’s all freaking true.  Every word of it.

But as well as providing a guide to the what, where and when, Gombrich’s book is a surprisingly rich source of little bits and pieces of information that I could quite easily have lived my whole life without ever knowing, but that I’m really glad I did learn.  Like how the urgent quest of an unnamed messenger from Greece gave us the word ‘marathon’ that we still use to describe a run of 26 miles’ length.  Or how the West Indies is so called because Christopher Columbus misjudged the size of the earth and thought he had sailed right round it and arrived on the West coast of India instead of in the middle of the Caribbean.  And it doesn’t stop at these joyful little quirks of language.  Reading about the countless battles, the innocent suffering and the abject misery through which so many of our ancestors lived (and in which, let’s not forget, so many people in the world continue to live) really encouraged me to think about and appreciate just how bizarrely amazing life is for us.  It’s true.  The 21st century affords us riches of the kind that many of the people who came before us could never even have dreamed about.  Warm, secure, comfortable living spaces?  A solid meal every single night?  Freedom to read books, take walks, socialise, work, marry and reproduce, all without fear of imminent death owing to disease, war, famine or even just the whimsy of authority?  That stuff is pretty brilliant when you come to think about it.  Definitely something to remember the next time you find yourself huffing because the milk has gone sour.

The other thought that came over me as I finished the book was just how many people lived, loved, fought and died during the making of the world’s history.  Legions of people from all over the Earth, each one given what is in history’s eyes no more than a passing glance at life here before passing on to who knows where.  Soldiers and farmers, kings and seamstresses, philosophers and factory workers, each life lived no more than a tiny fleck of colour in the painting of the story of the world.  And we are the same.  We live, we love, we toil and we die.  A depressing thought perhaps, but reading A Little History of the World made me feel blessed to have been given my passing glance, and excited at the prospect of enjoying it.  As Gombrich put it: “what we call our fate is no more than our struggle in that great multitude of droplets in the rise and fall of one wave.  But we must make use of that moment.  It is worth the effort.”

So, Gombrich.  Read it.  Buy a copy for a friend.  Perhaps even let it change the way you think.  Above all, let it make you thankful for your passing glance at life.