Having waxed lyrical about 84 Charing Cross Road and how charming and relaxing and pleasurable it was, I just need to let of a wee bit of steam about a totally different subject. In the Moldovan media this week there has been a flurry of debates due to the fact that there is due to be a Gay Pride march in Chisinau this Sunday. On one website in particular (the website of one of the TV stations) every time they have an article about it there appear hundreds of comments, and it is just desperately depressing to see the intolerance and bigotry and vitriol and hatred being spewed out - much of it from Christians - and it has made me so sad and angry and frustrated. The latest as far as I can gather is that the city mayor has banned the march, citing concerns from NGOs and fears that it could lead to violence, but the group that organised it saying it's going to go ahead anyway. Please do pray for Chisinau on Sunday - for no violence, for a way to be found for dialogue rather than partisan ranting, for hearts to be softened. I'm trying to pray for the church in particular, but I'm finding it difficult because I'm so angry with the Christian voices I'm hearing. So, as per the prayer from Jeffrey John that Auntie Doris posted on her blog a few days ago, do join me in praying for the church - but start with me, because God knows I'm so angry I'll be useless if God doesn't start with me.
”Lord, do something about your Church,
It is so awful, it is hard not to feel ashamed of belonging to it.
Most of the time it seems to be all the things you condemned:
Hierarchical, conventional, moralising, compromising,
Clinging to its privileges and worldy securities,
And when not positively objectionable, merely absurd.
Lord we need your whip of cords.
Judge us and cleanse us,
Challenge us and change us,
Break us and remake us.
Help us to be what you called us to be.
Help us to embody you on earth.
Help us to make you real down here,
And to feed your people bread instead of stones.
And start with me.”
How about that, just like the buses - I hardly read anything non-work-related for ages then two books at once. 84 Charing Cross Road is of course a classic, but also a very short classic, so it only took an hour and a bit, and was a delightful way to end the evening last night. I've been meaning to read it for ages, but as it was the Ship of Fools book group read last month I finally got round to getting it (1p in Amazon marketplace - bargain, though I had to pay postage of course as well). It's made up of letters sent between Helene Hanff (an American writer) and the staff of the second hand bookshop at 84 Charing Cross Road from around 1950 until the end of the 60s, and the increasingly warm relationship that was built up between them, despite her never actually coming over to England until way after the shop had closed down (I believe the account of this visit is told in the sequel to the book, The Duchess of Bloomsbury Street, which forms the second half of the volume I got). It's a very gentle read, and shows both the post-war conditions in England (Helene is outraged by the post-war rationing in England so keeps sending them parcels of food and nylons and that sort of thing that they can't get easily), and shows how both Helene and Frank (the main correspondent from the shop) love books - not just the reading, but the whole experience - handling them, thinking about their history, the whole thing.
I really enjoyed the exchange where the shop send her a book as a gift with a separate card, and she tells them that they should have written in the leaf of the book instead, as that would increase its value for her, and how she loves looking at the markings that previous owners have left. It reminded me of an occasion (I hope Kerensa doesn't mind me relating this tale, I know she was rather embarrassed about it at the time) when Kerensa (for it was she!) returned a book she'd borrowed from me, full of apologies as she'd dropped it in a puddle getting out of a car and had to dry it on a radiator so it was a bit crinkly and wrinkly (aside: I know the feeling). She offered to buy me a shiny new copy, but I was quite happy to have it back as was, it was still perfectly readable and actually now had more character - even now, not that I've got it out to read for ages, every time I see it I think of her and smile, whereas if it was given back in pristine condition I would have forgotten all about lending it to her at all. I'm also hopeless at throwing books away - unless I hate them, in which case I'd pass them on to a charity shop, but even then I can usually tell from the blurb that I'll hate them so don't get it in the first place. I just love the look of bookcases overflowing with books, and love being anal about ordering them (alphabetical order, fiction there, travel writing here, biography over there sort of thing). And although I don't mind wrinkly crinkly books in general (and if I have a second hand one don't mind odd scrawled notes or whatever), I do also have some books (with big pictures in, generally!) where it's the looking and holding and smelling that's as much part of the wonderful experience as the reading, and I would be upset if I spilt tea over them!
This is the book I've just finished, and is the first Anita Shreve I've read. I felt an odd reaction really - I wasn't blown away by it, it took ages to plough through the first two-thirds even though it's a really easy read and the subject matter is interesting and the chapters are short and from different characters' perspectives which I like and I was interested enough in the characters to want to know what was going to happen (though I guessed one of the main end events) and and and on paper it should have been perfect. It just didn't particularly grab me. But then I got through the final third really quickly and got much more into it, so on reflection I can say I'm glad I read it, but I won't be running out to get her back catalogue or anything. It's a good easy read, but get it from the charity shop (which is where I got it from, I'm glad to say) rather than buying it new.
It's set in America at the time of the stock market crash/Great Depression, and is about a newly married couple who take out a huge mortgage on the eve of the stock market crash. The husband (who was a travelling salesman) loses his job and has to work at a local mill, which is going through wage cuts and unionisation and about to go on strike, like mills up and down the country, and the couple's marriage is put under severe strain. It is a part of history I know little about, so was interesting from that perspective, and as well as the couple parts of the story are told from the perspectives of various mill workers, and an initially shallow rich girl who lives next door to the couple during the summer (who ended up being my favourite character having not really liked her at the start of the book). I left the book feeling that some things could have been expanded upon and others written about in less detail, and in the hands of another author it could have been much better, but on balance I liked it more than I didn't, if you see what I mean.
As promised, here are some photos from the graffiti festival. My top 50 photos (I took over 150 in total!) are in this flickr set, and you can also see some pictures and read about the background to the festival here. I had lots of favourites, so it's difficult to single out just one or two to put on here, but here are a few I particularly liked:
We're at the outlaws, and spent yesterday flat-hunting. Actually we found a couple of flats we liked, one though was too big and expensive so were all set to sign up for the other one. But the outlaws have offered to have us stay here with them, which will save us a lot of money. I'm not 100% sure yet that it's an entirely good idea (I've told HD we'll have to go to the pub a lot so I can be sweary sometimes and relax from being on my best behaviour!) but we've agreed that we'll try it for a month and see if we can get through it without any of us killing each other.
Today we went into London to this exhibition which was fab. It's open tomorrow as well (Monday) for any of my London readers who fancy a day out. You'll have to queue for ages, but it's well worth it. I took a million pictures, and when I'm back home I'll put some up on the blog. It was brilliant, and I was so excited to see some real-life Banksy.
In other news, someone found my blog by searching for "the strangest student in the world". HD thought that was very funny (so did I, actually!).
the maturest student in the world 
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