My eclectic reading

                                   

This time I am reading Art as Therapy by Alain de Botton and John Armstrong. I mean, I really read few other books at the same time like Dunbar - the Hogarth version of King Lear, a Polish book about a spirited Polish painter Stryjenska and others as well. Just listing some of them made me aware that such eclectic reading may cause a great confusion in my thinking. It most likely does but my attention span shortened somehow and this has influenced my ability to complete a book in a single stream. My chaotic reading has its pluses, I would like to say. Like coming across Glenn Murcutt and getting sidetracked to look at architecture from a new perspective. My preferences have been mostly for European architecture with Gothic as my favourite church style. I know that most of the people would not share my liking of old churches. I am not sure where it came from, but I get mushy and nostalgic when I think of old European towns their market places, town-halls, palaces and churches. Always churches. I remember when I discovered the Pelplin Basilica. My husband and I were traveling from Warsaw to Gdansk by car. Looking through my tourist guide I found out that we were going to pass one of the national treasures in Pelplin. As it was time for lunch I did not have much problems to convince my husband to make a little detour to see the place and have something to eat in this small town. The church was closed but there was a possibility to open it on requests of tourists. I made such a request and the huge doors of the cathedral opened for us. Somebody turned the lights so we could see the interior. It was magnificent, the paintings, the sculptures and most of all the vaulted ceiling from the XIII century.

                             

I was spell bound. My companion did not quite share my artistic euphoria so we did not spend all that much time there, but some years later I went to spend few days in the place and had an opportunity to see the church at more than one occasion and many more beautiful things there.  Like shrine Madonnas or one of the original Gutenberg's bibles.

  

I can feel the next post taking a shape in my head already. But this will be one of my next posts and this was only a “small” introduction to write about that beauty has many names and many representations. Thinking about all those treasures that the history and various artists have left for us to admire one may think that the young countries do not have that much to offer. So, Australians travel to foreign countries to find more beauty there than we can see around us. Often, we even do not notice this unassuming beauty that Australia offers in abundance. And here I read about Art as Therapy covering subjects of: Methodology, Love, Nature, Money and Politics and discover artists I never heard of and find out much more about those I thought I knew well but really did not. At one point to my surprise come across a picture of War Memorial in Canberra. The caption says – One is moved by the sacrifice, but unsure quite in whose name it took place. On the next page there is a picture of Glenn Murcutt House in South Australia. Here the caption says: An Australia to love – and, if it comes to it, die for. The picture of this country house shows the corrugated iron, big cylindrical water tanks, and the shed and the garage doors. All the elements beautifully belong to one another and the whole composition is magnificent in an unassuming way. So clever, so aesthetically pleasing and so Australian. Suddenly I saw something different to a Gothic cathedral but making me feel quite similar as when entering a monumental church and in owe thinking wow…. I wish I could see the house in reality. Maybe one day?

P.S. My list of books “in reading” has grown again;  I just got To Kill the Mocking Bird from the library.  

Why do we read?

There are different reasons for different people and even the same people read for various reasons at specific periods of their lives. I have realized that lately I read heavier type of books, and started to ask myself the question why do I read at all and what is my need for reading based on those days. Some suggestions which convinced me are to be found in one of the Alain de Botton’s books in the chapter about reading. Maybe the answer is “Because books are so good at helping us to become aware of certain things we feel”? Do the books provide us with answers? De Botton does not think so. He says “our own wisdom begins where that of the author leaves it off…” or “Reading is on the threshold of the spiritual life; it introduces us to it: it does not constitute it.”
                                                        
So, let’s say that I read in this period of my life to uncover some of my feelings that may have been dormant or I have been blind to. I am not sure if I am progressing as my emotional life is still full of confusion. Things are messy while I like them nice and neat, well structured. Looks that I will not be able to have it my way, no matter how hard I try. Control over my life is also doubtful. Perhaps it always has been that way but I was not forced to see it so clearly as I am now, that I need to submit to medical treatments playing havoc with my well-being. So, I am looking for new answers to my perennial question: “How to live, prime minister?” Will books help? They should to some extent, at least I can use them to amuse myself while waiting till some difficult times pass. The only problem that reading purely for amusement does not work for me. At least not now. I thought, I try though. Since I am in still in a catch-up mode to cover the years of break in reading fiction, I thought that it is time to read some of Ian McEwan. People rave about him. I got two of his books from the local library, not exactly my pick, simply what was there.

Apparently and coincidentally the book is a remake of Hamlet even if not a part of the Hogarth project. McEwan was not invited to it and some think that it was a mistake in Hogarth Press judgement. So, he wrote his version without any invitation and published it before Gillian Flynn’s rendition of Hamlet will be finished. Did he win the race? This we will find out. The book did not resonate with me on a deeper level, but I admire the masterful story telling. At the same time, it was a good example of a mostly good book that did not do a job for me. Looks that I do not read books for their story line only. I think that the readers pleaser were the descriptions of the embryo imbibing the alcohol drunk by his mother and making in depth wine connoisseurs’ comments. Cute, I would say, and the writer perhaps could not take my complement as pleasing. Looks that I needed  to have my jibe as I only reluctantly give the author credit for the book. There is a bad taste in my mouth it left. I have ticked off Ian McEwan and do not have to return to his writing, unless persuaded.  

                                              

The children Act and Nutshell. After few pages of The Children Act, I realized that this is not going to be a book to read for fun. Well written, yes. Interesting, yes. Only I knew the film with Emma Thompson and Stanley Tucci and I remembered it well, so I put it aside and started the next one. I must say that it was a novel idea to make an embryo a hero and the narrator of the book. One has to smile and shake one’s head at the concept. I responded to some of the humour, but a bit reluctantly. The style of writing is impressive, but style only never impressed me. I need some essence, meaning.

Fascination with Mountains

It has been a long time since I wrote a new post. The delays are due to lower spirit caused by not the best stretch in the health department of mine. It is time for allergies to flair up and that added to my general health maintenance issues.

I wonder why I started my post in the way I did. Do I think my readers need an excuse from me? Has my old friend - guilt (I am working on getting rid of it) kicked in again? Is it that I have not come up with an interesting subject to write about and am asking for understanding? All the above? Looks like it.

Some time ago I concluded that my blog will be a series of essays or as my very European soul prefers to call it - feuilletons. “Feuilleton” seems to me more like literary type of writing while an “essay”  indicates something like a school assignment.

So, the subject of my feuilleton today will be – Fascination with Mountains. 

There are two things that brought the subject of mountains to my attention. One of them is the a series of posts by one of my favourite bloggers Hans the Hiker. He impresses me with his determination to put dreams into plans and then into action. From what I can observe he succeeds big way. His most recent writing relates to his Mont Blanc walk. New posts are still being added but the first ones were enough for me to get into the mood of the hike and want for more. I recommend his  site.

I do not think I am particularly pessimistic thinking that such trips and views are beyond me now. Actually, many years ago when I spent time in Polish Tatra I had some altitude problems and was advised to avoid high mountains in the future. But mountain views are stunning; on Hans’ blog and in my recollection from student days. As I lived in the middle of rather circularly shaped Poland, summer trips were usually planed with change of scenery in mind. That meant either the mountains on the south of Poland or north at the Baltic shore. The two of my closest student friends and I went few times to Polish Tatra staying near Zakopane, the most fashionable place in the Polish mountain region. This was a great time for bonding and building trust one thought will last for life. And this is one of my most  profound disillusions and the saddest experiences of the recent. I know it is time to let it go, so I salute to the old friendship. 

                                 

Back to Zakopane and our holidays. We walked a lot in beautiful valleys with refuges feeding us local specialties. Reading Hans’ blog I came to a conclusion that Polish Tatras are a small brother of Alps but they beat even Italy as far as feeding tourists is concerned. Now and in communistic times, I can remember.

This looks like enough calories to prepare for a long hike

The cheese is very special and you can buy it only in Polish Tatras. 

Being young girls, we laughed a lot (maybe all the time?), we talked a lot and we read a lot as well. Magic times…

This is Giewont. Can you identify a laying man? His head and torso?

The memory of my holidays in the mountains was triggered by watching rather silly old Polish series – In Stilettos on Giewont. Giewont is one of the most recognizable Polish mountain sites; it is often named a Sleeping Soldier. The TV series is really silly and I gave up watching it after a short while but it brought the memories that are very important for me. There is a very special climate around the place, very distinctive culture, even language is different and very melodious, architecture    and way of dressing.  Maybe a lot of that is the show for the tourists those days, but even if it is only a show it is a very good one. Back to Hans’ posts, I can not stop myself to put a little add for Polish Tatra and its resorts. They are wonderful walks there. Not of the magnitude or beauty of Alps, but there is enough beauty to be found on less strenuous walks that for many will be demanding anyhow.

How about that for a view? Valley of Five Lakes.

Or this one? This valley was our favourite walk.

With some luck I will get myself such a scarf to feel warm in Australia and dream of Polish Tatra.

Love patterns

While I tidy up things in my home or cook, I like to listen to the radio. In my case this is often not listening to a radio but to podcasts. For a long time, there were Polish political podcasts, but they became less and less interesting as the time went by. What is happening in Poland now is so tragic that in self-defense I do not listen to it much. The country is being more and more destroyed with each new “good change” introduced by the government. The people are not interested in their future but happy with little perks they get from time to time. Just like lemmings or the proverbial frog that is getting cooked not noticing gradual increase of the water temperature.  The journalists who I liked to listen to in the past irritate me more and more. They must be feeling powerless as they just complain, interrupt the people they interview and repeat themselves. They really don’t have much power to change the situation, but in my opinion, they make it worse. OK, I feel a little better getting my complains out of the system.

So, yesterday as I was washing up, I was listening to a podcast from the Sydney Writers Festival instead. Aciman, one of my favourite writers, was talking about his book Enigma Variation. This time I am not going to write about any book, but about love patterns, books and writing. Seems there is no escape from books for me. And now I know why.

Aciman said that our first crush determines how we will be in love for the rest of our lives. We will desire the same way as it was the first time and there is no escape from it. He says such a life sentence is beautiful but I wonder?

When I heard it, I started to think if this was true for me and I had serious doubts about it. I could not remember anything interesting about boys at school. Then my thoughts went into my preadolescent times and to my surprise, I found my first fascination with another person. Was it a crush? Maybe, but I was too innocent for realizing that at the time. I still would not call it a crush. I was maybe seven or maybe younger when it all started? She was older. And again, I do not remember how old she was but she was old enough to read serious books and she was good at telling the stories to me. I was in owe with her and I wanted very much to be her friend and to be taught by her about life and perhaps about love most of all. We met at a summer holidays I spent at my grandparents. She was a girl from Warsaw and that was very impressive. Tenia, this was her name, stayed during school holidays with the neighbours of my grandparents. She was much older than me but I do not think she was older than fifteen when we first met. She was a keen reader and her choice of books was rather advanced. I particularly remember her telling me the whole story of An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser. I never read the book myself but I still remember the plot as she told me. It was about a couple of young people. The man was weak and manipulative and the girl naïve and trusting. She got pregnant but the young man did not have any plans to marry her. During seemingly romantic rowing escapade the boat turned over, the girl could not swim, the man did not help her so she drowned and the court case followed. What I find amazing is that I still remember the story, the title and the author. Maybe we were older than I recall? I know that I did not understand much of what it meant being pregnant, so I was putting the story together over time as my knowledge gradually increased. I remember that she told me other stories that were love stories with actions I did not understand. We met during a number of summer holidays and I was always wondering if she is going to come the following year. Of course, I was hoping we will meet again and she will be telling me more stories during our long walks among the wheat fields or in the pine woods that were not that far from our respective homes. The wheat fields started just behind the fence of my grandparents' garden. Those were idyllic times and idyllic walks. I never thought about myself as having a crush on Tenia, but perhaps it was just that. When I recollect the times now the sweet feeling of nostalgia overwhelms me.

                              

So, if I use this relationship as the pattern for my future loves they would need to follow the pattern of me looking up to the men I loved and I needing to learn from them. And that is how it always was for me except for my first boyfriend. This is a subject which I would like to explore later. Maybe I will post it or maybe it will become too close and personal.

My conclusion is that in my case Aciman’s claim that our first crush determines how we will be in love for the rest of our lives and how we will desire the first time will determine all our future desires has been  very true.