Entries Tagged 'Books' ↓

So it was my birthday on Thursday, which is normally not something I relish, but oddly as I get older I get more comfortable with the idea. Celebrations began (unprompted by me I hasten to add) on Sunday, with friends bringing over enormous cupcakes with candles, and lots of other nice goodies. I had lunch with a friend at The Wolesley on Tuesday, where we were lucky enough to spot Dominic West and Damian Lewis drinking brandy together, and on the day itself I got breakfast in bed and the shiniest present ever.

See how shiny? You can see my mug of tea! I’ve been less shiny, and somehow lost some emails and things in the transfer process, so huge apologies to those I owe an email, especially the de-lurking variety…

Since I’ve been given some lovely lovely things this week, I thought I’d share the love, and have a little giveaway. How about winning a japanese craft book and a couple of half metres of japanese inspired cotton to play with?

The book is called ‘bagu no hon’, which just means (roughly) ‘book of bags’, and it contains patterns and full instructions on how to make lots of lovely bags. Of course they’re in japanese but that’s half the fun.

I’ll post anywhere, so if you’ve been too nervous to dip your toe into the japanese book world, or even if you have a collection already and just need one more, (believe me they are addictive) leave me a comment below to enter the draw.

I’ll pick a winner when I come back from my holiday!

This post could also be titled ‘I’m really making the most of amazon prime’ or ‘my postman hates me’. I currently have three other parcels sitting in the delivery office waiting for collection (ok so only two of them are books – the other is fancy phyto hair products) and yet this is my currently active pile of books. Currently active means that I have fast-tracked them onto the pile to be read, or have read a bit of them because I couldn’t wait to finish the thing I was currently reading…Book buying is a disease. Trust me, I used to work in a first edition bookshop.

Top of the pile is Revolutionary Road, which came, along with three other richard Yates book from an Oxfam bookshop. It’s been sitting on my shelf for a couple of years but after seeing a trailer for the film last weekend at the cinema I knew I had to get my skates on. Once the skates are on, it’s not hard to keep them on either. I finished it yesterday, while having one of those baths that you keep topping up with hot water so you don’t have to get out and stop reading. It reminds me of Updike’s early Rabbit books, with the same theme of finding yourself in a life you weren’t sure you’d chosen, but this had more heart. Seriously good.

Then Murakami’s musings on running, with a title riffing on Carver, of whom he is a great fan. I am a huge fan of Murakami. I don’t care if it’s about running (in which I have zero interest) because I’m sure it’ll turn out to be about more than that, and just reading his wonderful sentences is enough.

Off the Page is a book of writers talking about writing (oh yes, I remember I used to do that), and was one of those one click purchases. so dangerous that button. But it’s a nice book, arranged by subject rather than by writer, which makes dipping in and out a lot of fun. Probably not interesting to you if you’re not intrigued by writing though.

The next two books, Before I Die and My Latest Grievance are courtesy of my friend Louisa, who is one of the voices I always listen to when she says ‘I think you’d really like this’. Isn’t it a blessing to have a friend like that? As much as I like books, going in to a Waterstones and trying to unearth something new that you’ll like by browsing the shelves just takes far too long, especially when you have to weave around all the tables of 3 for 2 whose books are there because the publisher has paid a substantial amount of money for them to be noticed. I don’t want to be dictated to like that. I want to be dictated to by people I love and trust instead.

Hmm. The Road Home. I am three quarters of the way through and hit a brick wall. This is immensely frustrating because I adore Rose’s earlier books and was hoping for the same feeling of being grabbed and held and kept safe in her world until the last page. But I got to a point where I realised I didn’t much care what happened to Lev, although I will probably have to finish it at some point.

Scarlett Thomas writes books that are much cleverer than they appear on the surface, and they remind me of Douglas Coupland in style, only with more theoretical physics and maths hidden away in them, r in the case of this one not so hidden away. To be honest if you fancied giving her a try I’d start with Popco rather than this. I am 150 pages in to The End of Mr Y, but while it is a lovely edition (and a first at that, and strictly speaking I shouldn’t be reading it at all) it is just a bit too heavy to read in bed comfortably, so I paused and went on to something else.

Lastly the wonderful Kelly Link, and her Pretty Monsters. I would heartily recommend Magic for Beginners if you’re prepared to read a jolly collection of stories that might involve putting a village into a handbag and having a zombie contingency plan. I have read the first story in this collection and it is in the same wonderful, fantastical style. As a bonus it also has illustrations by Shaun Tan, whose wordless book The Arrival, which tells the story of an immigrant, had me completely captivated.

So which one am I actually reading now? Well, none of them. I decided I needed something to race through after the density of the Yates so I’m reading Kate Atkinson’s When will there be Good News? I love her Jackson Brodie novels because it’s clear she has such a good time writing themes. And with that I’m going to treat myself to an early night and read a few pages before my eyes close…

Or ‘The one with all the books in it’…

These came from my little excursion to Kinokuniya in Shinjuku. After blurting out to one of the shop assistants in japanese ‘I want to make clothes’ while waggling a book and looking helpless, I got pointed to the right section and spent a happy hour pulling things from the shelves and making a little pile. In fact it was a big pile, I can’t deny it. Then I spent a good half an hour going through the pile and weeding it, trying to take our luggage allowance into consideration.

I notice a trend in myself towards tunics…

But of all of them, I am completely in love with this book at the moment:

It is a manual of sewing, in the manner of our beloved DK book, except beautiful. There are six garments to make (a-line skirt, yoke skirt, cap sleeve blouse, one piece tunic, shirt dress and shirt), patterns included, which lead you through all of the techniques in the book.

I am smitten with the ‘ironing a hem allowance’ trick (click photo to enlarge – it’s on the right hand page). There is a piece of card with lines drawn at 1,2 and 3 centimetres, which you then fold your fabric over and use the lines to iron your hem properly without constantly remeasuring, or giving up and guesstimating.

Technique 5 is all about applying facings.

Technique 8 is about pockets.

While technique 11 is all about making and using bias tape. There are 12 techniques with full colour photos, and another 13 with line drawn illustrations, plus pattern cutting basics. My frustration is of course that I want to read more japanese than I can – perhaps it would be better if I couldn’t read any at all – and I am considering buying a kanji dictionary to see if I can puzzle some of it out, but since kanji are pictures I have no idea how you go about looking them up in a dictionary, since the normal rules can’t apply. (Any help enormously appreciated!)

If you wish to partake of the loveliness you can get it from yesasia.

While I was looking for craft books in Kinokuniya Mr J pointed me at Pochee (think french, and pronounce it posh-ay). It’s a quarterly sewing magazine, with pull out patterns on thick paper, a little like Ottobre I suppose, but with some kids things, accessories and bags to make too. The instructions are mostly of the ‘half a page with illustrations’ type (see later in this post!) but there are a couple of in depth technique lessons with lots of pictures. The more I look at it the more I love it…

On the front it says ‘one piece and tunics’ and they do make up the bulk of the women’s patterns. The non-tailored aspect of the clothes makes this a good issue for those of us who would have to alter them to fit a western frame. I really like the house-cardigan coat thingy in the picture above, and below are the instructions for it:

It’s the bottom one (click on it for a bigger version). You know, when I started to learn Japanese I had the vague notion that one day I would read Haruki Murakami in the original language (ho ho ho), but maybe my true goal is gaining the ability to read japanese sewing patterns and books. I can’t give it up now, can I? Not when it’s so much fun…

In case you want to get yourself a copy the ISBN is 978-4-529-04616-9, it’s volume 6, and it’s here at yesasia.

Nothing like a bit of hero worship. I went into town today to meet the one and only Amy Butler, in Liberty. She was sitting next to a display table covered in samples and copies of her new book, which is why I was so surprised when she stood up – man, that woman is tall! Anyway, being slightly nervous I talked way too much* and now she knows way more about my travel plans and my fabric obsession than she needs to, and of course I was wearing the new bag so I flashed the lining at her in a fan type way, which may or may not have been a bit weird. You know what though? She’s really lovely. And tall. But mostly just a very nice person who happens to design all my favourite fabrics.

(*I did the exact same thing when I met Douglas Coupland and David Mitchell. I should learn to listen to the voice in my head shouting ’shut up already!’)

Afterwards I had a coffee and then wound my way down to a new to me shop of goodness:

I read about this on Fehr Trade but couldn’t remember going past it – it’s just around the corner from the Cloth House on Noel Street. It has notions and trimmings, bag handles and buttons, pipe cleaners and fabric dye, and a lot of interfacing. Including some new Vilene stuff I’d never seen before that looks tough but flexible. I left only with some purple thread and a magic stick of iron cleaner made by Vilene, which means I am certainly not the only one to leave her iron covered in brown ick.

And then I sat in Trafalgar Square and watched the finals of the eventing on the big screen. I’m taken by these Olympics, maybe a little too much – I got a little teary when the German dentist took the individual gold. A grand day out all told.

Oh and the book? It’s super-cute, and I need to steal a baby to make wee things for.

After taking months to do the Sophia I did this ‘Tina’ in an afternoon. It seems to be what people choose when they realise their mother is having a birthday. The conversation always goes like this:

Friend: You could make her a bag!
Me: Yes. When is her birthday?
Friend: Next week!

This is partly why I’m trying to build up a stack of bags at home so that when this happens they can choose one there and then and go away happy. That was the plan for today, but I’ve just got to an ironing phase and realised that my iron is completely gunked up. Nothing to do with the times I’ve accidentally tried to iron the interfacing the wrong way up (I’m not the only one am I?), and everything to do with the fact that we get terrific limescale here and I never descale anything. It’s because I’m from up north. The water is so soft there that you can use a tiny amount of bubble bath and get veritable mountains of bubbles. I had no idea what limescale was all about until I moved here. You’d think after 12 years of living south that I’d have got into some sort of routine with it, but I haven’t.

Which is weird because I’ve turned out to be far more domestic than I thought I would be. You know when you imagine your future life when you’re 13? I thought I’d be a magazine editor, living on gin and cigarettes (a friend of my mum’s had recently given me a bunch of back issues of Cosmopolitan), but it turns out I prefer sewing and cooking, and cut flowers and crisp bed linen. I like making my home nicer. That’s why the bag is hanging on what used to be our clothes rail, now tucked into the last remaining corner of my craft room.

And as if I didn’t have enough to keep me occupied, what with cutting out fabric for bags and descaling the iron, the postman delivered some lovely things today:

I seem to be obsessed with buying more patterns for clothes than I am capable of making. I now have two issues of Ottobre for women, as well as an Ottobre diary, which is very nice but I didn’t order it, so I wonder if it’s a freebie, given that we’re a third of the way through the year. The magazine is on the same lines as the WOF, with several patterns in each issue, but a lot of these look simpler than the ones from Burda and the paper quality is much higher. Good for a clothing novice like me. The other thing I like is that the models used vary in size and shape – like real women. I have trouble with the Burda magazine because I can see that a style looks great on a tall skinny model, but what if you have hips and/or bosom?

I also got this issue of Poets and Writers today, which is a timely reminder of the other thing I do. Allegedly. This time last year I was gearing up to write my dissertation. It seems like a lifetime ago. After I’d handed that and the project in I really didn’t feel like writing at all, and I’ve stuck with that through the winter. It’s spring now. Time for change maybe.

So another thing: when it comes to both sewing and writing, the magazines I like best come from abroad. Maybe I should start a magazine after all. But easy on the gin – I don’t drink gin.

I spent some money in John Lewis. It had been a while what with the builders and everything but I was under strict orders to get differently coloured wool, although I expanded those orders to include buying a crochet book (Simple Crochet by Erika Knight). I like a) the title and b) the contents so it was an easy decision.

It has lots of simple projects that aren’t garments, so I can make things without getting too hung up on tension but still practising, divided into four sections: cushions, throws, containers and at home. There are also some intriguing patterns which use crochet in unusual ways, like these funky basket type containers, made with string, and edged with fabric strips.

There’s also a log basket crocheted in leather, and a rug made entirely from fabric strips, which I thought would be a nice ongoing project for my scrap bag.

I still think the instructions of how to crochet are better in The Happy Hooker, but this book has okay instructions, with the crucial difference of using the UK names for stitches. This has thrown me for a bit of a loop, but there’s a chart in the Happy Hooker that tells you what is what, so until I get used to swapping between the two I’ll have both books open. Anyway I chose a simple project:

I’d love to know the difference between an afghan and a throw. I don’t get it. Which no doubt marks me out as a complete crochet newbie. So from now on I’ll be making a lot of granny squares but with different coloured yarn:

I’m quite excited. And my writing friend wants to learn how to crochet as well, which will make her, me and the poet capable with the hook. Perhaps we could make some kind of modern bayeux tapestry in yarn…

Oh – one last thing:

In my defense it was on sale…

Today has been mostly about this. Before I can apply the elephant’s breath I have to move furniture, and before I can do that, as anyone who has ever moved house with me knows, I have to move the books. I have a lot of books. This pile isn’t the sum of the books that were in our bedroom – this is about half. Some ended up in Isaac’s little room, some in a cupboard that I miraculously found had some room, and some even found their way into a pile for the charity shop.

This is almost unknown for me.

Books come in, but they very rarely go out.

But when I was unpacking the double packed shelves I was having two reactions:

# oh! This book! I’ve had this copy for [x] years. I remember reading this when I was in [insert appropriate house]…and cue flood of memories and a desire to flick through the pages
# ‘oh yeah, I read that.’ Tosses book aside.

So I figured that I could thin the shelves and take the ‘yeah I read that’s to the charity shop and be no worse off, but it does feel very strange. I suppose that changing any habitual behaviour is the same, and for me, clinging onto books regardless of my feelings for them has become just that – a habit. The trouble with this particular habit is that the lack of shelf space is stopping me from bringing in new books, ones that I think are more for the me I am now. (Which is not the same as saying that I’m discarding all of the old me, just that I know when I look through my shelves which parts I have assimilated, and which parts simply skimmed the surface for a while.) And if I can’t broaden my bookshelves then I feel as if I’m simply marking time, trapped in a room of old obsessions.

The best solution would be a big house with several rooms that can be given over to library shelves, but since that’s not in the offing I’ll weed and cull instead. Just don’t expect me to be entirely happy about it.

The weekend started with this, a beautiful handmade scarf, given to me by my friend the poet. It is so delicately done that it squishes up into the tiniest possible ball, and then it expands to something like seven feet in length. I can wind it and wind it round my neck, but it never feels constricting because it’s so light (which is good because I was squeezed into too many polo-necks as a child and now I can’t bear having things on my neck). But my favourite part is that the ends flare out so that when it’s all done up I feel a bit like a fop wearing a dandyish cravat.

Of course I want to learn how to crochet, but perhaps this is one of those times where I should just admire the skill and not try to gobble it up for myself.

Yesterday was one of those fantastic London Sundays. We hadn’t planned anything at all – in fact I was thinking of sewing – but we decided to head out to “Greenwich”:http://www.greenwichwhs.org.uk/, to noodle around the markets, before meeting up with friends to see _Charlie Wilson’s War_ at the “Picturehouse”:http://www.picturehouses.co.uk/cinema_home_date.aspx?venueId=gnw. This cinema has amazing seats – roomy, with lots of leg room, and, best of all, _they recline_. I wasn’t entirely sure about the film – the end message is very confused – but Philip Seymour Hoffman was excellent, so that was worth the entrance fee.

Afterwards we popped next door to “The Rivington Grill”:http://www.rivingtongrill.co.uk/ for supper. I personally find their tagline of ‘domestic cooking for those who don’t make or get it at home’ a little bit insulting, since I can cook very nicely thank you very much – but screw it: the food was really good. _Really_ good. And it became even more palatable with my friends’ “taste london”:http://tastelondon.co.uk/ card (£20 cheaper from “here”:http://www.itchylondon.co.uk/tastelondon), which halved our food bill. (Might have to get me one of those…)

In between I read lots of a book, which I am absolutely loving, despite the fact that it took me a hundred pages to get into it. Luckily there are over 800 in total… It’s called _Darkmans_ by Nicola Barker, and it was on the Booker shortlist last year. I was compelled to buy it when I was in New York and I’m so glad I did – not least because I love US editions. It’s not an easy book, it’s not a conventional narrative, there are at least eight main characters who’ve all had their spot in the limelight, it’s confusing and it’s set in Ashford. But it’s very funny indeed – so funny that I have laughed out loud on buses, trains and in the foyer of the Festival Hall, laughing so much people were looking at me. It’s one of those polarising books, I suspect, but I’m so glad I found it – new favourite writer!
(“Amazon.co.uk”:http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/0007270178?ie=UTF8&tag=full&linkCode=as2&camp=1634&creative=6738&creativeASIN=0007270178 / “Amazon.com”:http://www.amazon.com/Darkmans-Nicola-Barker/dp/0061575216/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1200352361&sr=8-1)

I feel so ready for the week.

I have been afflicted with a cold and a big dose of angry impatience with everything. I am sorry for not posting this week – it wasn’t intentional, but it was probably for the best, since you would have been treated to rants about things like shampoo bottles you can’t get the lid off, why no one is feeding me any lunch, and how I am not ready to go away.

But a parcel arrived from amazon yesterday and made everything better. Well, bearable anyway.

I realised that this little pile represents my author obsessions perfectly. By author obsession I mean the kind of author you would happily carry across a hot lava field in order to get them to safety so they can carry on writing, and no matter that you burn your legs to stumps in the process. _That_ kind of obsession.

First is Girl Meets Boy: The Myth of Iphis by Ali Smith. She is just a genius with words. Her short stories are magical, and the further you delve into her work the more you get out of it. This new book is part of the “Canongate Myths Series”:http://www.canongate.net/myths, which is a worthy thing in itself.

Second is my old favourite, Doug Coupland : The Gum Thief. Of course I fell in love with Generation X, but I’d actually recommend Eleanor Rigby and Hey Nostradamus! first, if you’re not into all the zeitgeist stuff (although that is what made his name, and he is still very good at it).

Last is a book （The Book of Other People)　I bought because I pretended it was work, since it’s about character exploration. The real reason I bought it is because there’s a piece by David Mitchell in there. The dude is a god. Read his books. When I was in Hay I heard him read an extract from his new book and I’m horribly horribly excited and I can’t wait. It makes me feel like a kid waiting for Christmas. If you were born sometime between 1970 and 1974, and grew up in a small English town then you must read Black Swan Green if you haven’t already.

Here’s hoping you’ve all had lovely weekends.