Retrospective

I'm now gearing up for the rigours of what will be a busy term, 'busy' here functioning as euphemism for impossible. The break in Malaysia was a restful one, despite the various nieces & nephews in attendance. I forgot to mention the reading I completed at Mak's place the other day. I reread an old favourite, Narayan's The English Teacher. One of my students wants to write his extended essay on the novel and I was more than happy to be his supervisor. This time round I was struck by the glorious casualness of the narrative. (I think the first time it was a case of simply being beguiled by the story and sort of surrendering to it.) Has any writer ever got closer to the accidental nature of our lives - and the preciousness of their pettiness? is there a saner writer to be found?

I also read a children's book that I bought many years ago, before coming to Singapore, yet never got started on. My discovery of the excellence of so-called children's literature was possibly the single most liberating aspect of my career as a teacher and I was a consistent reader of such in the eighties. Sadly, I've not devoted as much time in recent years to the genre (if that's what it is) as I was doing then, and my life is the poorer for it. This novel, Helen Cresswell's The Winter of the Birds, remained stored away in England for ages, with a pile of other books, but I finally shipped them over when we settled in the house in KL. There remain one or two unread ones amongst these and I must amend this situation over time. Anyway I sort of enjoyed The Winter of the Birds, but I don't think it's in the league of Cresswell's classic The Piemakers. This one seems to be aimed at slightly older readers and has a kind of working class 'real world' setting, as opposed to the fantasy world of The Piemakers, but it doesn't really convince in terms of making that real world believable. It deals with the need for freedom of the imagination but seems more interested in enjoying that freedom rather than convincing you of a real world in which it might be earned. The action takes place as Christmas is approaching and something of the potential magic of the season lifts the second part of the narrative but we're quite a while getting there.

Blogger still isn't providing its usual full range of services, so no pictures at the moment. I can't even get my usual font.