arundhathi: (people say that life is the thing)
I am still reading the same 15 books as last week and the week before, so I don't have any new stuff to recommend. For myself, I have something way more exciting, because I spent lunchtime browsing secondhand shops and found a totally pristine copy of The Nightmare Before Christmas colouring book, which is quite possibly the most adorable thing ever. Granted, I'm not sure what I'm going to do with it, because it seems a shame to spoil its total pristineness, but it is a lot of awesomeness for only a quid.
arundhathi: (people say that life is the thing)
Vita Brevis: A Letter to St Augustine
Ostensibly a translation of a transcript of a letter to St Augustine from the concubine he renounced when he turned to Christianity and chastity, Floria Aemilia, who went mentioned but unnamed in Augustine's Confessions. It's part love story, part philosophical response to the Confessions - the latter inevitably coloured by the former - and a pretty captivating take on how it would feel to be this woman, rejected for God and the supposed salvation of her lover's soul.

'Years have passed and much has changed since we two had our arms around each other. Thus what I write will perhaps be equally a letter to the whole Christian Church, for today you are a man of great influence.'

Other stuff I am reading/have read/want to read is on my goodreads


In unrelated news, I spent last night reading Star Trek (reboot) RPS. I haven't seen the film. I'm not even sure what Chris Pine looks like when he doesn't look like Kirk. Delicious is a ridiculous, dangerous thing.
arundhathi: (people say that life is the thing)
day 01 | a song
day 02 | a picture
day 03 | a book
day 04 | a site
day 05 | a youtube clip
day 06 | a quote
day 07 | whatever tickles your fancy

Pies & Prejudice: In Search of the North by Stuart Maconie
This is the book of my people, and a charming and funny love letter to the England that starts way, way north of Watford Gap.

'My name is Stuart Maconie, and I am from the North Of England. Some time ago, I was standing in my kitchen, rustling up a Sunday brunch for some very hungover, very Northern mates who were 'down' for the weekend. One of them was helping me out and, recipe book in hand, asked "where are the sun-dried tomatoes?"

"They're behind the cappuccino maker," I replied.

Silence fell. We slowly met each other's gaze. We did not say anything. We did not need to. Each read the other's unspoken thought: we had become those kinds of people, the kind of people who had sun-dried tomatoes and cappuccino makers, the kind of people who did Sunday brunch. In other words: southerners.

Other stuff I am reading/have read/want to read is on my goodreads.

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