I am currently making my way through the 12 short stories contained within Mary Costello's 'The China Factory', and so far, I have found them quite interesting. They deal with ordinary people experiencing big, life-changing events, set within the context of small, everyday minutiae, and are exquisitely rendered. The characters' worlds are small, but emotions run deep, although they are nearly always unexpressed. This creates a tension and a tangible sense of menace, with the reader just waiting for something awful to happen. However, for the most part, there is an absence of dramatic resolution, and life goes on as normal. For me, this collection is pretty intense, and although I greatly admire the style of the author – her beautiful economy with words and ability to bring us right to the core of her characters is breathtaking – the stories do not make for light reading, and I genuinely feel like I have to regroup after each one. Definitely worth a read, if you're in the mood for searingly honest portrayals of fear, loneliness, or despair in everyday life; this collection has a wonderful integrity and bravery. Saying that, I think it's probably best not to read all 12 stories in one sitting or if you're feeling in any way despondent!
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The past few weeks had left me with my hair practically standing on end and a permafrown (as an aside, I'm getting very worried about wrinkles; incessant frowning and squinting because I'm not wearing my glasses seems to have resulted in a vertical line that runs down my forehead, right between my eyebrows to the top of my nose. I'll add it to my list). So many different things to juggle at the same time; busy, busy, busy; and it seemed to have been raining since April. When I get like that I just feel cross and irritable - it really is a case of head down, power through, and self-medicate with chocolate, complaining, and self-pity. However! The sun has now come out, some of my stressful things have been resolved (Stress and I go way back; we're exceptionally well-acquainted), and I am slowly beginning to lighten up a bit...
There is a spider in my food cupboard, the one where the tins of tomatoes and jars of random cooking sauces live. I have a healthy respect for spiders, being quite terrified of them (I read somewhere that human beings have an innate fear of dark colours, angularity, and unpredictable behaviour in creatures, so we are predisposed to be wary of insects and spiders - isn't that interesting?!), but I wouldn't dream of hurting one, and ideally, would prefer to co-exist in perfect harmony, with each species carefully ignoring the other: I don't care too much that they're there, as long as they don't come too close or move too fast in my direction. This attitude means that I will not countenance any sort of violence towards a spider [it's just so wrong to hurt another creature because it looks a bit odd. Although, I also refuse to kill wasps despite being the recipient of a horrendous sting inside my mouth when I was really small and there was a wasp on my biscuit and I ate it anyway - it was a Jacob's Mikado biscuit, which were big in Ireland at the time, and my absolutely favourite kind of biscuit, so the wasp was always going to lose that battle. Anyways, my face puffed up like a big massive balloon and I had to be carted off to hospital, so you'd think I'd have some sort of acquired hatred of wasps. They don't bother me though, to be honest - they're just trying to go about their business as well] and my preferred method of dealing with them (if ignoring them doesn't work) is to dispatch Anthony to the scene with a jar and a piece of paper, and thereby facilitate the transfer of the spider outside to his natural habitat. There, job done and no-one got hurt.
"Faster than fairies, faster than witches,
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; And charging along like troops in a battle All through the meadows the horses and cattle: All of the sights of the hill and the plain Fly as thick as driving rain; And ever again, in the wink of an eye, Painted stations whistle by. Here is a child who clambers and scrambles, All by himself and gathering brambles; Here is a tramp who stands and gazes; And here is the green for stringing the daisies! Here is a cart runaway in the road Lumping along with man and load; And here is a mill, and there is a river: Each a glimpse and gone forever!" |
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Really, it contains a little bit of everything, from a celebration of science and the English language to the joys of travel and the Shipping Forecast. The title ('Meanderings') is a fairly accurate description of its content: I write about different things as the mood takes me, but hopefully there's something in here for everyone... Categories
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March 2021
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And on another note... |
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