Books! New! Old! Cheap!
I have been acquiring books (I know, makes a change, eh?)
I bought the Bone Clocks for two reasons – 1) it was just over £3 brand new, and 2) a friend has been saying ‘Have you read David Mitchell? Oh, you have to read David Mitchell. The Bone Clocks is amazing, you have to read it. OMG YOU HAVE TO READ HIM!’ And so for the purpose of shutting up said friend, I am going to read this book, and see what the fuss is about.
‘The Buried Giant’ I bought because I read a review that made it sound interesting, but really very annoyingly, that’s not a sticker on the front, it’s printed like that. People, this is serious. It’s bad enough we have to put up with stickers, but if said stickers end up irremovable parts of the printing process, all is lost. There will be no joy left in purchasing new books. None.
I bought the Paying Guests as I love Sarah Waters and I haven’t read this one yet, and if I don’t like David Mitchell, it will be an antidote to my disappointment. But there is also a printed sticker situation *sigh*
I am writing a thing which involves Nottinghamshire in the 70s and 80s, and found this book on eBay. Alan Sillitoe (there’s a name you don’t hear often), a man who feels there is no need to smile on his book cover, writes about walks around Nottinghamshire, with references to his childhood and there’s pictures to go with it. The era and location interests me, especially with reference to the miner’s strike of ’84, as Nottingham voted not to strike, and were picketed by Yorkshire miners. Some did go out on strike, but there was a bitter division not just between striking and non-striking, but also Nottinghamshire and miners in the rest of the country. When I lived there, over ten years later, one villager killed another with a cross bow due to a feud that dated back to the strike. That was pretty big and unusual news in the post office queue, I can tell you. This book doesn’t have that kind of feel, but it does have the 80s anoraks and perms vibe, canal tow paths and days out to castles and stately homes. I cannot imagine this book being published today, we demand so more from our travel/personal journals. These days if people are going outside with the intention of writing things down we want them to at least catch malaria or be chased through a desert by a Mexican drug cartel (or sleep in a hole pretending to be a badger) than a detour into Lincolnshire to visit Skegness. However, I am quite partial to a eating chips on a seafront bench, as well as museum visits followed by a mooch in the gift shop, then a cup of tea in the café, so this is all fine by me. Pass the scones, please.