Up to Northampton again, where we visited bookshops and records shops and came home with quite a haul. I am blameless in all this, because no one in their right minds would take me to a used bookstore and expect me to come out empty-handed. Thus I am a mere twig on the seas of book fate.
- Lady Audley’s Secret – Mary Elizabeth Braddon (Dorothy’s fault)
- The Faerie Queene – Edmund Spenser (Emily’s fault)
- Frost in May – Antonia White (read this whole quartet many years ago and have forgotten everything about it; this purchase is also Dorothy’s fault, I think)
- Howard’s End – E M Forster (read this a few times years ago but one can’t have too much Forster)
- Dionysus Writes: The Invention of Theatre in Ancient Greece – Jennifer Wise (handed to me by my husband who knows I will read jump at anything with ‘Dionysus’ in the title because of my low-burning ambition to get back to studying).
But I did resist Burton’s Anatomy of Melancholy, because even I was shocked at the size of the pb edition. I would have to spend a couple of months at the gym paying far more attention to the weights to be able to carry that on the train. Have any of you lot read it?
And from the record store:
Walking back to Clarksville – Page and Plant
Manic Nirvana – Robert Plant
Discography – The Pet Shop Boys
and whatever the new Springsteen album is called. From which it may be discerned that most of the music I like is at least 20 years old. I mentioned this fact to my sister-in-law while in the shop and a lank-haired youth nearby said ‘Don’t worry, all the music I like is 20 years old too.’ Alas, I fear he fails to realise the difference it makes when the music was both released and attained classic status in your own lifetime.