I am ending my September book list with the nonfiction and poetry I read. While I am not currently jazzed about recent fiction, I am still interested current work in these genres.
Build Your Own Boat by Camonghne Felix (audiobook read by the author)
This poetry collection is a new addition to the e-audiobook selection on the library website. The poems are powerful, but often difficult to listen to due to the subject matter. The poet writes about her life, from childhood on, as a Black woman in the US.
The Adventure of English: 500AD to 2000 The Biography of a Language by Melvyn Bragg
This book belonged to a friend’s late wife. I never met her, but I am told that, like me, she enjoyed Melvyn Bragg’s show on BBC Radio 4 called In Our Time (I listen to the podcast). In listening to that, you can tell that he has a great curiosity about many aspects of life. This book also reflects that. In the introduction, he states that, ‘This book is about where the English language came from and how it achieved the feat of transforming itself s successfully.’(p. ix) His writing style is much like his podcast, where he asks questions of experts that regular people without a specific background in these subjects might ask. He tries to get beyond the jargon specific to each discipline. This book is a fascinating look at the English language. It is written in, well, plain English, so a background in linguistics is not necessary. I found out that this book came about as a result of a TV series on the topic that the author hosted.
‘Twas the Nightshift Before Christmas by Adam Kay (audiobook read by the author)
From the blurb on the library’s e-audiobook listing:
‘Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat . . . but 1.4 million NHS staff are heading off to work. In this perfect present for anyone who has ever set foot in a hospital, Adam Kay delves back into his diaries for a hilarious, horrifying and sometimes heartbreaking peek behind the blue curtain at Christmastime.
Twas the Nightshift Before Christmas is a love letter to all those who spend their festive season on the front line, removing babies and baubles from the various places they get stuck, at the most wonderful time of the year.’
There were parts of this book that had me laughing so hard tears were rolling down my face and there were sad parts as well. I will give a warning to people who do not like harsh language that there is a lot of that in this book. Also, he worked in urology and gynaecology so many body oarts are discussed, sometimes in slang terms.
The author has another memoir as well, but I haven’t read it. I might in future.
The Knitting Map: Textiles, Community, and Controversy, edited by Jools Gilson and Nicola Moffat
Until I saw a piece about this book in a book-related email, I had no awareness of this project--The Knitting Map--that took place over a couple of years (2004-2005) in Cork, when it was named a European Capital of Culture for 2005. I quickly googled and discovered that it was a collaborative project, mired in controversy at the time, that combined performance, technology, and knitting. The latter was done mostly by older, working class women in Cork. I immediately clicked over to the library website, found the book, requested it, and eagerly called Fiona (our local librarian) when it came in, to avail of the call and collect system now in place.
The Knitting Map itself is a large piece of knitting that is 300 square metres (the size of a tennis court). It was knit in strips by over a thousand women over the course of a year. It is not an actual map, with streets in grids and stuff like that. It is a record of the activity and weather in that particular place during that particular year. It was the brainchild of a duo called half/angel, one of whom is a performance artist and one who deals mainly with technology and art (of course the technology was very different in 2005 than it is today). How the knitters would knit was determined by both weather and the amount of activity on a given day. The latter was determined by CCTV cameras set up at 4 points around the city that would measure the density of traffic (both pedestrian and on wheels of some sort) and the amount of movement. This was translated into code, which was then translated into knitting stitches/patterns. The more movement and density, the more complicated the patterns. The weather determined the colours, which were all chosen to correspond to colours in nature. The knitters would sit in a circle with computer monitors in front of them. The monitors would display the patterns and colours they were to use. So the digital technology was used to translate data into meaningful symbols so that natural materials (wool) could be manipulated using digits (fingers).
The knitters themselves were part of the performance, as people came to watch and photos were taken, but it also proved to be a wonderful experience for them. They talked with each other and shared stories of their lives with one another. They got to participate in an art project in a way that does not usually occur and they felt a sense of pride in the work that they did. I learned that someone did an oral history project with these women and I have requested that book as well. In some ways, I think I will like that book even better than this one, which tends to be a bit dry and academic at times, albeit fascinating.
In addition to the performance aspect of the knitting itself, one of the organisers of the project went out into the community throughout the year preceding the start of the knitting and taught people to knit in car parks, on buses, and even to people stuck in traffic. She got an enthusiastic response to these activities as well.
In spite of the response by participants, however, critics, other artists, uninformed journalists and members of the public who read their work were often extremely hostile. Many of these people did not even bother to see the work or try to understand what it was about. There was some of the usual snooty crap about how this cannot possibly be art. There was the usual sexist, classist claptrap about how it cannot be art if it’s women (and working class women at that!) doing what is traditionally women’s work. There was the usual jealousy about the fact that the project got funded when others did not. Having spent a fair bit of time involved in a couple of local art communities, all of this is familiar. There can be a gazillion paintings, photos, and prints of a local landmark or some other overdone subject matter and that’s art, but do something actually original and the torches are quickly lit. Like so much else in life, art is subjective, but when there’s money to be had, things can get ugly.
There was also some Ireland/Cork-specific dismay, in that many commentators thought it reflected badly on the place that this was the central artwork of the Capital of Culture year. Interestingly, when the finished piece spent a year in Pennsylvania, it was enthusiastically received.
In 2015, there was another exhibit of The Knitting Map, to celebrate the 10-year anniversary. This book is a collection of 13 essays reflecting on and analysing the project and the response, and situating it in the larger context of women’s work and textile art.
Celebrations: Rituals of Peace and Prayer by Maya Angelou (audiobook read by the author)
I quite enjoyed this short audiobook. Not only did the poet read her own work, but she described what the poems were inspired by—even singing some spirituals that inspired one of the poems—and she told the listener who each poem was written for, whether as a gift or as a result of a commission.
May October be filled with many excellent books! Happy reading!
