Stories & Shout Outs #17

One of the things I love about reading is the synchronicity that can happen sometimes. Last night I finished A Gentlemen in Moscow after a wonderful reading week in its company. This morning I started Frankenstein, which I thought was set in Europe somewhere, maybe Switzerland. It may still be, as I've only just tackled the four letters that begin the book. However our early epistolarian is writing from Russia no less, which has provided me with a lovely transition between my two books.

I also recently spotted the Personal Poetry Challenge thrown down by Karen @Booker Talk.

So I got to thinking that learning some poems by heart could be a) a good way to help keep my brain working and thus mitigate the potential of dementia and b) a means to encourage me to read more poetry.

It got me thinking. I have a number of snippets of poems under my belt. For instance every autumn I manage to get out at least one 'season of mists and mellow fruitfulness' and when I'm feeling harried and hurried I usually throw down a 'and miles and miles to go before I sleep'. It makes me feel close to my Pop. He grew up in the early 1900's and rote learnt numerous poems and odes that he could still recite just weeks before he died at age 84. He was very proud of his ability and didn't need much encouragement to recite. I particularly loved his knack for big words when reciting This is the Domicilary Edifice Erected by John (the much wordier version of This is the House That Jack Built) and I loved how he dared to stir up my sister when we were young with 'There was a Little Girl Who Had a Little Curl'.

I then had to learn large segments of the poems of Judith Wright and John Donne for my HSC exams, which I can still recall but not with confidence. More recently, I enjoyed learning about the six poems of Robert Frost that both boys studied for their HSC exams.

I have no way of fitting in another thing of any kind right now, but I love this idea and will tuck it away for future reference. If you'd like to join Karen in memorising William Wordsworth's sonnet Composed upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802 pop over to her blog.

One thing I always make time for though is Non-Fiction November with Katie @Doing Dewey! It's a lovely way to reflect on my year of reading non-fiction.

The 20th October is also time for the next 24 Hour Readathon. You can sign up here. The start time for Sydney is 11pm which means that most of my readathon will actually take place on Sunday the 21st.

Simon @Stuck in a Book reminded us that next week is time to go back in time with The 1944 Club. He and Karen host this biannual event where they encourage bloggers to read a book published in the same year.

I've been meaning to join one for years, but have managed to miss it every single time or failed to source a book from the appropriate year in time.

Any sort of book is welcome – novel, non-fiction, short stories, poetry – and any country or language, so long as it was first published in 1944!

This year I actually have a Maigret book on hand ready to go. Signè Picpus is #23 in the Georges Simenon ouerve. It has the added advantage of being a quick, easy read for me as well.

Grief and grieving has been front and centre of our family life this past year. The death of my much loved father-in-law has been hard. The sadness and sense of loss comes in waves. There's nothing new I can say about this that hasn't already been said or written before. However reading the words of others can sometimes provide solace or at least remind us that we're not alone, often when we need it most.

I think that's one of the reasons why we read - for those unexpected comments that speak to us across the page, like it was meant to be that we read that book at that particular time.

This week Shelf Love's review of Sabrina reminded me that "the way to get through grief is just to get through it" while reading Frankenstein reminded me that "nothing contributes so much to tranquillise the mind as a steady purpose - a point on which the soul may fix its intellectual eye".

We've certainly been keeping ourselves busy enough this year, but we're aware that the busyness is a way to avoid being consumed by our feelings. Engaging with our intellectual activities (work, blogging, reading) feels like a more positive way to use this busyness.

So, in memory of my dearly loved, poetry reciting Pop, who died in 1986, I will leave us with a poem. This is not one of the Wright's that I learnt at school, but given that I turned 50 earlier on this year, it seemed the most appropriate.

Turning Fifty

Having known war and peace
and loss and finding,
I drink my coffee and wait
for the sun to rise,

With kitchen swept, cat fed,
the day will quiet,
I taste my fifty years
here in the cup.

Outside the green birds come
for bread and water.
Their wings wait for the sun
to show their colours.

I'll show my colours too.
Though we've polluted
even this air I breathe
And spoiled green earth;

though, granted life or death,
death's what we're chosing,
and though these years we live
scar flesh and mind,

still, as the sun comes up
bearing my birthday,
having met time and love
I raise my cup -

dark, bitter, neutral, clean,
sober as the morning -
to all I've seen and known -
to this new sun.

Judith Wright