Getting stuck in….Russian novelists for 2011

We have a library in Drumnadrochit, which is part of the new school building – it’s at the front in the round bit. I’ve just started going again recently as I fancied delving into Russian novelists once more and  it looks like I gave my own copies of Tolstoy etc away  a long time ago.

I had Pasternak’s Dr Zhivago out before Christmas and very much enjoyed reading it again along with the coincidence of the film being on the telly during the holidays. Very indulgent days along with a glass or two of Cava and florentines. Returning to the library today to only take it out again, I asked the librarian if  there was any Tolstoy. The shelves in the public part of the library were void of anything ‘old’.

“Yes”, she said. “In the back here we have all the Millenium Project fiction and non-fiction”.

And so they did. Books donated to schools through the millenium commission. ‘A series of 250 volumes in Everyman’s Library which have been distributed to 4500 state schools throughout the United Kingdom’. So why were they in the back I asked. The reply was that children at the high school showed no interest in the books, so they were given to the library. Apparently the children didn’t respond readily to the look of the covers. She was clearly disappointed, as are all of us who have worked with books, when people seem to dismiss a good story because they are judging the book by its cover. They were kept in the back as they weren’t that popular. The books I took out today hadn’t been touched since 2003 to 2006, Dr Zhivago being the exception – a year before  me.

If you look up The Millenium Library’s website, you’ll find that it doesn’t exist. But if you go to your local high school or library, they may well have those volumes in there, hopefully…..

I’m not going to break into a rant about the teaching of the subject known as English, our modern-day emphasis on plot-driven instant story-telling or cheaply made paperbacks with tacky type. Nor will I suggest that we should be more grateful for what we have been given.  So you can carry on reading from here. But what I would like you to do is to take a look at the list of the books and ask yourself what the relevance of them is to the interpretation of human existence and what we can learn from the stories told. 

The librarian and I shared a love for Russian authors, one visitor said she thought it was all too high-brow for her. But, I said to her, “They write so simply in our modern-day language”.  And they write about love, politics and pain. Maybe that’s what puts people off these days. Love hurts in real life, Hollywood offers fairy tale romances where all ends well. Alas, not so in these books. I will enjoy my Tolstoy, Pushkin, Pasternak and Dostoyevsky. I do meet people on occasion who have a similar taste in novels as I do -but not many….unless there are more to confess out there?

A Different World Today

It’s Christmas day again today  -a very different experience to 25th December though.

Always has been, mostly because my mother observed orthodox rituals with diligence every year, as the priest noted at her funeral. She was ‘a true orthodox woman’, he said. So 7th January and the week leading up to it involved a vegan diet and spiritual contemplation. By the time Christmas eve came, I was in a different frame of mind after the hectic holiday season of the western world. Serious and contemplative, appreciative of the food made for me.

I always liked going to church on the eve and watching the oak branches burning outside after mass. Then that would be it -home. Always, people would call by for a black coffee and food. One small living room-come-kitchen would fill with up to twelve people for no more than an hour -just to talk with each other again – a favourite pass-time. No exchange of gifts, just a blether.

It’s been over a year since I started to wear black as a mourning colour and understand its significance in reflecting that dark, dead feeling inside that evolves over the months. I can see now why all the Babas would spend twenty years and more in the hue (which it is of course). Washing and ironing black clothes every week adds to their ritualistic existence, drawers of neatly folded black items, interspersed by jade, crimson and stripes.

I vow to wear less  black this year, if it feels right. I may even take part in a vegan fast right through to Easter -fish is allowed twice a week; Wednesday and Friday. Which is okay, plenty of Chowder and Cullen Skink.

I’ve grown used to the different influences in my life -my music collection reflects that and the muse has reappeared in the guise of old masters again. The bonfire of Badnja Vece heats up the soul ready for the remainder of an icy winter til the light changes and the flowers come again. There are threads of life appearing already.

Mir Božji Hristos se rodi.



New Year’s Revolutions

1. To wear make-up most days

2. T0 dance every day when it’s appropriate

3. To wear my red shoes once a week

4. To crack a smile on the face of each person I meet

5. To instigate a universal movement for the love of humanity

6. To write, write and write

7. To edit, edit and edit

8. To hone my audio-clairvoyancy

9. To be a listening and empowering mum

10. To procrastinate more, it’s highly meditative