I am – here – now – warming up for a morning of admin, or at least admin-type activity (proofreading for students; marking essays; email …). Every fibre is railing against this. I want to spend the morning with good book; not a ‘work’ book, but the new book by Andrew Greig, At the Loch of the Green Corrie. (Could I claim this as sort-of-kind-of-work because it’s Scots lit? Probably not ~~~). I splurged in a fairly small way in the campus bookshop earlier this week, and bought the Greig in hardback (which was sitting above the recent paperback edition of Wolfe Hall, reminding me that patience would pay, or at least reduce the outlay). I also bought Homer and Langley, E.L Doctorow’s most recent book, and, just because the idea intrigued me, Brian Clarke, On Fishing (London: Collins, 2007), not unexpectedly, a book of essays about fishing.
I doubt very much that Clarke’s essays will inspire me to take up a rod, or even find out how to put one together, but fishing seems to be an occupation which would both engender odd thoughts, and give the thinker time to pursue and develop them, so fishing essays sound promising. I have such sharp memories of the utterly unexpected pleasure of an essay by Ian Hamilton, on Paul Gascoigne, in Granta 45 (1993). I barely knew who Gascoigne was, and certainly had (or have) no interest in football, but was so intrigued, that I read the essay non-stop – twice! Ever since, I’ve sought out and read essays on subjects about which I know nothing. I suppose I approach them in much the same way as I do BBCR4, happily imbibing material on subjects about which I’d never claim knowledge or have any inkling of why I might find them interesting; and with no expectations about what I shall or should remember afterwards.
Anyway, I’ve earmarked both the fishing essays and the Doctorow for June’s week lounging in the Med, but want to start the Greig immediately.
I may be able to open it this afternoon
– but only if I’ve completed those admin tasks.
To which …
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