books – Page 23 – don't confuse the narrator

moving experiences II

Books play a large part in my life.

When the bulk of my possessions arrived in Spain, some fifteen years ago, there were fifteen boxes of books. I’d already acquired a lot in the time I’d been living here, and, since then, the collection has expanded still further.

Now, many of these need to be moved.

We’ve decided that the easiest way to transport them – at least the yards and yards of cheap paperbacks – is to tie them into piles, as it’s a lot easier to hold onto strings than to carry boxes.

The poor things look most uncomfortable, though, Continue reading “moving experiences II”

other people’s projects

Reading a friend’s book proposal ready to contribute my two penn’orth, I was startled to find my name appear in one of the sample chapters. (Amused, too, to find myself described as “the Welsh poet” as if I were the only one!)

People who know me will probably find it as bizarre as I do that I am being quoted in a parenting book aimed at new fathers.
Continue reading “other people’s projects”

books and their covers & a glimpse of fame

I was down in Seville at the weekend, at the Feria del Libro, for a cuentacuentos session and book signing.

Opposite Casa Pilatos, Seville — Seville: cool and green in the morning

The story-telling was on the Saturday morning and the guys from the bookshop who had invited me warned me not to expect a big audience; apparently 11:30 is considered early in Seville.

Of course, people go to bed very late – the women in the next room to me in the hotel clearly didn’t go out till after 11:00 on the Friday night and came back at about 4:30am. It seems odd, though, that the best part of the day – first thing after the sun gets up and while it’s all still fresh and cool – should be wasted. Particularly as, by lunch time, Seville heat can be suffocating.
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narrators and writers

Re-reading Dorothy L. Sayers’ The Nine Tailors, I was taken by the comments about objectivity in writing in this conversation between Lord Peter Wimsey and 15-year-old Miss Hilary Thorpe.

It’s just after Easter. Hilary’s mother died at New Year and now an unidentified corpse has been found in the grave which was being prepared for her father who has just died.

“[…] You and Dad would have got on splendidly. Oh, by the way – you know where Dad and Mother are buried, don’t you? I expect that was the first place you looked at.”
“Well, It was; but I’d rather like to look at it again. You see, I’m wondering just exactly how the- the–”
“How they got the body there? Yes, I thought you’d be wondering that. I’ve been wondering, too. Uncle doesn’t think it’s nice of me to wonder anything of the sort. But it really makes things easier to do a little wondering, I mean, if you’re once interested in a thing it makes it seem less real. That’s not the right word, though.”
“Less personal?” Continue reading “narrators and writers”

book fairs and back ache

The Topka stand at Moralzarzal book fair — Topka makes a stand at Moralzarzal

Moralzarzal is a small commuter town just north of Madrid. According to the ayuntamiento figures, its usual eleven and a half thousand mid-week inhabitants swell to more than double that at weekends, most of whom seemed to put in an appearance at the feria de libros yesterday.

Topka had a stand, and since I was doing a storytelling session over at the library, I spent much of the day helping out.
Continue reading “book fairs and back ache”