Here we are. A large installation – a collage – one of David Hockney’s iPad works. Each of these nine ’tiles’ shows a constantly changing set of views of the same scene at different times, independently of all the others. The full image is in a case of constant flux, always showing a slightly different aspect of the snow scene Hockney was viewing. It’s a bit like those plastic puzzles that I had as a child with 15 tiles and one blank space, so you could move the tiles around till you made a picture. Or not, in my case, usually.
In the absence of actual snow this year, I offer you this snow scene for the week before Christmas, and for Leanne’s Monochrome Madness.
Today I bring you not just one, but twenty or more windows from the shop on the ground floor of Salts Mill in Saltaire. Its magnificent bookshop is upstairs, but here, as you come in, you can buy posters and cards, stationery and supplies, art materials – all temptingly laid out for browsers who wander around this space, decorated with vast ceramic pieces from Leeds-based Burmantofts pottery, elegant vases of fresh lilies. The window in the featured photo is in the entrance hall to the Mill, and hints at the treasures to be found within.
Last week, a blog post by Steve of A London Miscellany took my eye. It’s about a 19th Century French celebrity chef working in London who became struck by the plight of the city’s poor. Do read this post about a remarkable man: a talented cook and inventor with a practical social conscience.
I heartly recommend Steve’s weekly blog posts. He always has interesting and curious tales to tell about London’s past
Rebecca of Bookish Beck fame has a monthly challenge – Love your Library. She uses her own post to tell us what she has read, what she is reading, what she gave up on or never even started, and what she’ll read next. That’s what I’ll do too.
But first. Why do I love my library? Well, I’m lucky. Our County Council still prioritises books. It’s not often that we have a week when no new stock comes into our branch. New releases; books that have won some literary prize; works in translation; books from small indie publishers; old favourites and non-fiction of all kinds all get a look in.
These days, our libraries run on a mixture of professional staff and volunteers: some smaller libraries are entirely volunteer-run. And I’m a volunteer at our local, bigger library. I love it. First of all, it’s easy to get first dibs on new stock. But the tasks are varied. Processing books from other libraries requested by our own readers. Sending copies of books we stock to other libraries who’ve requested them. Helping the public with queries about books; parking; local clubs; photocopying …. And shelving. Always shelving. But that’s OK. Being shallow, I often judge a book by its cover, and I rarely get through a morning without finding something appetising to borrow. To go with the dozen or more I usually have on reserve.
And anyway, on the morning I usually volunteer there’s a pre-school music group in the children’s section, and I’ll find myself singing along (strictly to myself) to ‘Hola! A todos aqui‘, or ‘Row, row, row your boat‘, as I wander round with my book trolley, shelving. Friends turn up to change their books. We have a quick chat. The morning passes quickly.
So. What have I read during November? Normally I’ll do a mini-review, but this post is quite long enough already, so star-ratings will have to do.
Magpie Murders: Anthony Horowitz ⭐⭐
Carte Blanche: Carlo Lucarelli (Translated by Michael Reynolds) ⭐⭐⭐⭐*
Peace on the Western Front: Mattia Signorini (Translated by Vicki Satlow) ⭐⭐⭐*
A Station on the Path to Somewhere Better:Benjamin Wood ⭐⭐⭐⭐
The Rich People Have Gone Away: Regina Porter ⭐⭐⭐
The Dinner Party: Viola van de Sandt ⭐⭐⭐
The Frozen River: Ariel Lawhon ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Run Me to Earth: Paul Yoon⭐⭐⭐⭐
The Penelopiad: Margaret Atwood ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐*
The Wax Child: Olga Ravn (Translated by Martin Aitken) ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐*
The Silver Book: Olivia Laing ⭐⭐⭐⭐
Burnt Shadows: Kamila Shamsie ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Before you say that seems a lot, remember that 4 (marked *) are novellas, and therefore short, reviewed here. But you’re right. This has been a book-heavy month.
Borrowed and yet to be read, or currently being read:
A Short History of America: from Tea Party to Trump: Simon Jenkins
Reward System: Jem Calder
Close Range: Wyoming Stories: Annie Proulx
The North Road: Rob Cowen
As I have nine books on reserve, it’s possible some of the already-borrowed books may end up unread. You can never tell. Some books I reserve come straight away. Some take so long I’d forgotten I’d reserved them. One hasn’t even been published yet!
I DID abandon a couple of books, but I forgot to note them down, and they went out of my head the second they got back to the library.
So that’s my month in books … and in my library. I took most of the shots in the minutes before the library opened, in order not to ruffle any feathers. Actually, it’s well-used and should look rather more peopled. But at least nobody’s been upset by being photographed on a bad-hair day.
And they’d better be flying, to illustrate William Blake’s thoughts. Here’s an Arctic Tern. There’s another as the featured photo.
Here’s an egret landing. It caught me unawares, so not the whole of its wings made it into the image.
But most of my shots will feature birds at rest – all the better to demonstrate their plumage. Although here is a cormorant with wings extended. Not flying though.
Here are some of the rest. These images were taken at a demonstration at Thorpe Perrow, and while I know the first one is a ferruginous hawk, I didn’t note the owl names. Can anybody help?
I thought this female mallard deserved a close-up of her wing feathers.
Just as I thought this peacock could afford to show off his wing feathers, and I could for once ignore his splendid tail display.
And finally – a pigeon with slightly OTT wing markings.
Last on the phone, actually. Taken in a little backwater in Darlington, a town not too far from us that we’d never visited. I wish I could have stepped further back in this narrow alley. Then I’d have snapped four differently-coloured doors.
The other week, we visited Saltaire. It’s a Victorian Model Village built near Bradford by mill owner Titus Salt. Built between 1851 and 1871, it was a philanthropic project to provide better living conditions for the workers of his Salts Mill than were available in the crowded city slums. The village was designed with well-constructed houses, a church, a school, a library, and a park. But no pub. Salt had seen the dire consequences over-consumption of cheap liquor could have on workers and their families, so emphatically – no pub. Hence the name of this modern bar, which reflects Titus’ mill in its windows. The village and mill deserve a post to themselves. That’ll be for another day.
From Pyrenees to Pennines 
You must be logged in to post a comment.