To Thine Own Shelf Be True

An Idiot Flaps Odyssey - Introduction

I've decided to improve myself.

I'd like to do so with the addition of a bionic arm, or by having David Attenborough's head grafted to my shoulder. But my influence is limited, and my knowledge of cybernetics and head transplants is limited to what we all learned at school.

So I'm going to read some books.

I have read some books before, of course. I'm familiar with the spine/leaf/text combo. I've delved into the odd fictional world. And the odd non-fictional world. And the odd frictional world (that involved sandpaper).

But I don't read enough. I'm hoping that if I start a little reading project on this blog, it might encourage me to keep it up (or else I'll have to flee the internet in shame).

You might remember that I coined the term 'idiot flaps' to refer to books, in response to the stupid naming of television as 'the idiot box'. I thought it was foolish to suggest that television was inherently stupid when it's just a means of conveying information. You might as well name your ears 'Twatellite Dishes'. (Actually, that is quite good)

So I'm beginning an Idiot Flaps Odyssey, despite not ever knowing how to spell 'odyssey', thus making my life more difficult.

But I don't like leaving the house and have no money. So here's how it will work:

I've chosen one shelf from one of our bookcases, and intend to work my way through every book on there. I'll then write a blog post about them.

Here is the shelf in question:

It probably won't be a book review exactly, but will just include things I've noticed, good bits etc. It will be fun for all the family. Unless your children object to the word 'twatellite' (and I can't imagine why they would).

I like our shelves. We have a good mix of books on there, both highbrow and lowbrow (you might be able to spy Russell Brand's My Booky Wook there - I think that might be a combination of both).

You might say: "Paul, you nonce! They're your books. Surely you've read them all already!"

Well, no. A lot of them are Lucy's. Some are new. Some are things I've read and forgotten about. In any case, you should get to know your own shelves before throwing stones at the shelves of others. Or something like that.

A couple of throbbing caveats:

- I can skip books that I've read before (at least if I've read them recently and remember them)

- Very academicky non-fiction is optional. I'll try to read some of it, but I don't want to get held up on a textbook about moss

So. I think that's it.

Here is the beginning section of the shelf:

Lots of fun here. Incidentally, the blue lump there is a half-melted blue candle. It's not a Smurf torso.

It's not a Smurf torso.

It's not a Smurf torso.

So. The odyssey will begin soon.

***

By way of a preview, I've just finished a book which was on a different shelf. But I thought I'd look at it here to give myself a quick taste of what I've gotten myself into.

Graham Greene- Travels With My Aunt


Good. Very good. A novel about a man escaping the tedium of the suburbs and by travelling with his eccentric aunt. More details here.

I've read a bit of Greene before. Mostly short stories, mostly forgotten. I remember reading those short stories when I was working in Kidlington.

It was my first job, and it was out by Oxford Airport. There was nothing there, no shops, no cafe. It was a bleak, bleak industrial estate. There wasn't enough time to walk into Kidlington at lunch breaks, so I'd just wander around the car parks feeling isolated.

It was my first job of any sort, and it didn't make a very good impression.

Anyway, I remember trudging to sit on a bench in a little square of grass, reading Graham Greene. He's always describing interesting characters and exotic landscapes. I don't think he ever mentioned Kidlington.

There was one good bit of the area. On the edges of the car park, there was something close to countryside: a large bit of grassland surrounded by a chain link fence. It could have been a slightly rubbish nature reserve. Sometimes, I'd wander over to it and look through the prison-bar fence. It was small consolation. But it was consolation. I can get cheered up by small things, particularly nature.

At work, if I see a duck on the way in, it gives me a little boost.

One day, on the grass by the car park I saw a rabbit. It cheered me right up.

Luckily, it was alive. A dead rabbit probably wouldn't have done the trick. Animals need to be alive to make me happy. Or dead and in a hoi sin wrap.

Where was I? Oh yes, Travels With My Aunt.

It's a really cool book, funny and interesting, deep without being preachy. There are some really strong comedy scenarios in there.

Some things what I done liked about it:

***

He had an unnatural passion for sardines. He said they calmed his nerves, that eating them was like pouring oil on troubled waters. (p103)

I like that image. And it makes me imagine the evil twins of Simon and Garfunkel singing 'Oil Over Troubled Waters' with black goatees. Perhaps being the arch-enemies of Captain Planet.

***

There are quite a few references to Palgrave's Golden Treasury, which luckily we have a copy of. So, when poems were mentioned, I could read them and get little references.

One of the poems mentioned is by Wordsworth: the snappily titled Ode on Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

I like this bit:

Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie
Thy soul's immensity;	110
Thou best philosopher, who yet dost keep
Thy heritage, thou eye among the blind,
That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep,
Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,—
Mighty prophet! Seer blest!	115
On whom those truths do rest,
Which we are toiling all our lives to find,
In darkness lost, the darkness of the grave;

The poem seems to be about children being closer to God (as they were with him not long ago), and how they know the real truth, and are enlightened by their innocence.

Which, of course, is bollocks.

But I think Travels With My Aunt is a satire on these Romanticist ideas. The main character finds fulfilment in an exciting world of sex and drugs and corruption, and escapes the innocent simplicity of ignorance and Little England.

Hmm. That got a bit earnest. Sorry about that. I've probably missed the whole point of it. Hopefully, there won't be any clever people reading this.

... of course you ARE clever! I didn't mean to... Oh. Good grief.

***

Possibly my favourite bit is almost totally unconnected to the rest of the story. A character is explaining her boyfriend's art project about giant pictures of soup cans. It doesn't sound so great explained like that, but I can't be typing the whole page out.

Hey, you can embed Google books! I hope this works, here's the page in question. (The bit I'm referring to begins at the top of the page and ends, appropriately, with 'I was badly out of my depth').



***

So that's it.

They probably won't be this long usually. I must have been feeling particularly verbose.

Join me next time, when the Idiot Flaps Odyssey begins in earnest!

(If this has been boring, don't worry! I'll still be doing my usual blog posts too: boring self-indulgent whining, hilarious examinations of pipes, surreal lists that make you want to punch me, etc)