During the initial months of lockdown my reply would have been ‘’What reading?‘’

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Contributor: Lesley

During the initial months of ‘Lockdown’ my reply would have been ‘’what reading?‘’ I had no appetite for it, or for the concentration it would require. A daily stumble through national headlines, keeping abreast and focusing on the best of the worst, was more than enough to sap my mental capacity for the remainder of the day.

With the dog days of summer came a bit of settling and I began to flick through chapters of unread books on the shelves, a word, a sentence, a paragraph drip feeding my soul, but a lot sitting there still found themselves falling short of the moment. Too dense, too, well, just plain wordy! Then I struck gold, I caught the first episode of ‘The Offing’ on Radio 4, their book of the week by Benjamin Myers, the narration was beautiful and I was hooked. It’s a coming of age story set on the Yorkshire coast very much in the style of Laurie Lee or to my mind even Dylan Thomas. I had to buy the book and soak up the scenery and characterisation for myself, here was a point of connection, a gentle affirmation of life.

Feeling more courageous I turned to my last purchases from Waterstones, both sharing similar themes. I was missing coastal walks with my beloved greyhound and ‘Salt on Your Tongue’ by Charlotte Runcie, and ‘The Salt Path’ by Raynor Winn just fitted the gap. I’m waiting for the sequel to come out in paperback, hardbacks take up too much valuable space.

A nod of recognition as I walk past the stationery section of a well known supermarket, ‘A Single Thread’ by Tracy Chevalier, yes but I wanted to read her previous book first ‘The Last Runaway’. Good reads both of them, unexpected turns, page turners that left me feeling uplifted by a sense of possibility.

A friend recommended ‘The Summer Book’ by Tove Jansson (of Moomin fame), spacious writing and childlike imagination, initially drawn by their brevity I was captivated by the simple magic and have now almost finished her book of winter stories, ‘A Winter Book’, it seemed apt during last week’s snow.

One thing leads to another and so ‘Winter Walks’ on The BBC found me following up Imtiaz Dhaker, (born in Pakistan and raised in Glasgow), after listening to her poem ‘Arc’ read by Simon Armitage. Likewise Amanda Gorman the American Poet Laureate, after hearing her read so passionately ‘The Hill We Climb’ at Joe Biden’s inauguration ceremony – what a wonder!

Always a joy is Elly Griffiths with her series of archeological murder mysteries set on the North Norfolk coast with Dr Ruth Galloway and DCI Nelson. Number thirteen is due out next month, each plot line stands alone but you would miss out on the character interactions of the investigation team if you skip and honestly you would miss out so much. – If I ever have another cat I’m going to call him Cathbad.

Any day now I am awaiting the arrival of a parcel from my local independent book shop. This is a new initiative and the package will contain two short books of previously unpublished short stories and at two weekly intervals there will be a lunch time Zoom session to chat about them. Hot off the press and I get to talk to real people albeit at one remove. Sandwiches and a mug of coffee, what is there possibly not to like?

 

The Average Boy

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“When stress of weather, or the coming of long winter evenings, or any other reason gives the indoor part of life a larger importance, this indoor handy book will be found an invaluable companion.”

If your children are bored being cooped up at home under the current lockdown, this may well be the book for you. You may think “Harper’s indoor book for boys” by Joseph H. Adams old fashioned, published as it was in 1908, but the scope of its ambition is impressive. No egg boxes and pipe cleaners here, oh no, this is on an altogether grander scale. Projects include making a bird cage, a candelabra, a stereopticon (double magic lantern, in case you were wondering), a settle and “nooks for books,” not to mention trying a spot of pyrography (fire-etching on wood – is this wise?), bookbinding, Venetian metalwork, even clock making, for goodness’ sake.

What a joy parenting must have been in 1908, when “the average boy” (as he is constantly referred to in this handy tome) would tackle “fitting up a boy’s room” at the drop of a hat, assembling “an indispensable clothes press” along the way, while constructing a “curved-back window seat” at a moment’s notice. Where have we gone wrong? To think that your sons could furnish your entire house for you if only they didn’t spend all their time sitting comatose in front of a screen.

An exercising weight

Heaven knows it’s easy enough to feel inadequate as a parent, but I can see that I have fallen lamentably short:

“Nearly every boy has had, at one time or another, a desire to make scroll-brackets, fretwork-boxes, and filigree wood-work of various sorts.”

Oh dear. I failed to nurture this enthusiasm while my boys were growing up – neither of them could build a whatnot* to save their lives.

Whatnot

This book was originally published in America, and is a testament to the self-reliance and energetic spirit of our pioneering cousins across the water. Perhaps this explains the book’s assumption that one has sufficient space at home in which to construct what has to be the most ambitious project in this frankly daunting volume, a “house gymnasium,” featuring an “adjustable flying trapeze.” Yes, that’s right, a flying trapeze.

The high expectations of the average boy expressed in this “indoor handy book” beg the question as to what constitutes average. I wonder how many botched whatnots and wonky settles cluttered up Edwardian family homes? As for the consequences of pyrography and flying trapezes, we can only hope that the emergency services in 1908 were up to the task.

* ”For trinkets, books, and the general assortment of odds and ends that a boy is sure to possess.”