A successful day

Good news today.  My friend Vee's poem, 'Father', is to be published.  William Thirsk-Gaskill reminded us of the launch of the 2012 'Grist' poetry anthology, in which three of his poems are included.  It's too easy to put poets and writers on a pedestal, so it's good to see ordinary people, with hard work and talent, making a success of their writing.

Although not on the same scale, I'll consider my day successful too.  The Zola/Hardy essay is taking shape which is no bad thing since the deadline is tomorrow.

We're finally replacing our sixteen-year old cathode ray TV with a flat screen one.  Trying to watch 'Zookeeper' with a view the size of a letterbox was the final straw.  So, on Saturday we'll be able to watch Sky Sports in glorious 40 inch LED technicolour.  I can hardly wait.

Finally, a poem by another one of my Open University friends inspired me to write a poem of my own about my grandmother.

So, all in all, I'll call this a day well spent.

The trouble with studying literature

... is the sense of guilt that stops you reading for pleasure.

Take today, for example.  I should be writing an essay on Germinal and Far from the Madding Crowd.  I've done the reading, taken notes and started one of my chaotic mind maps that usually transform themselves into a well structured argument. I have most of the salient points, and plenty of examples, but I can't quite get to the heart of the matter.

In my defence, I am recovering from a vile sickness bug and have barely left my bed since Saturday.  Yesterday I spent all my waking hours in the company of Radio 4. From Poetry Please to Gardeners' Question Time, via trading with Iran and the omnibus edition of the Archers, it's remarkable what you can learn.

So for today at least, I'm pleading for compassionate leave from literary studies to read The Fault in our Stars, as recommended by one of my Open University friends.  After all, it's OK to play truant once in a while, isn't it?

Germinal

'He squatted down inside one of the tubs with his workmates, it plunged down again, then, barely four minutes later, it surged back up again, ready to swallow down another load of men. For half an hour the pit gulped down these meals, in more or less greedy mouthfuls, depending on the depth of the level they were bound for, but without ever stopping, always hungry, its giant bowels capable of digesting a nation. It filled and filled again, and the dark depths remained silent as the cage rose up from the void, silently opening its gaping jaws.'

Germinal is set in a mining village in northern France in the 1860s.   When the 'Company' cuts the wages of the already impoverished miners, a strike is called, fuelled by the idealism of the young outsider Etienne.  As the days turn into weeks and then months, the miners are driven to desperate measures and a series of appalling events is set in motion.

Germinal is the thirteenth in Zola's twenty volume series depicting the life of ordinary people during the second French empire.   It pulls no punches in its description of conditions down the pit, or of the poverty and promiscuity of the mining community. His writing was driven by his belief in naturalism and the desire to portray, in a scientific fashion, the effects of heredity and environment on individuals and their community.  His description of the miners' life is detailed and convincing, but his powerful prose goes beyond observation into the realms of myth.

From time to time, in the course of my literary studies, I come across a book that leaves a lasting impression.  Germinal has moved and disturbed me as much as anything I have ever read.

Shiver

It's minus two outside and the Lakeland hills are dusted with snow.  As I drove to school, the delicious winter light painted the bare trees a hundred shades of green and brown and then lured me to Williamson Park with my camera.

In the end, the cold was too much for me and I have retreated to my kitchen, warming my back against the radiator.  Time to settle down now to some Italian grammar and striking miners in 1860s France.