Authors Electric

Back in 2015, somebody made a clever joke that I wished -   a) I’d thought of myself (naturally)   b) the person had made it five years before, giving us so much longer to enjoy it.   It went something like this:   Prospective employer : So, Ms ------, where do you see yourself in five years’ time?    Interview candidate : I don’t know. I don’t have 2020 vision.   No 2020 vision here Photo by  Ksenia Chernaya  from  Pexels With 2020 behind us, that joke has taken on a kind of tragic grandeur, of Socratic irony even. Nobody had 2020 vision. E xcept for a few far-sighted scientists and medical experts who knew we were in for a pandemic but couldn’t say when. And if they had pointed to 2020, who’d have believed them? Yes, yes, we’d have said. Don’t worry, we’re used to flu. We’ll be fine.  A wonderful thing, hindsight. By the time you read this, we’ll all have 2020 vision. Just, er, backwards.  Spectacular sour...

2020. Perfect vision and all that. What a joke. 2020 was the year it all started; the year of the pandemic; the year of lockdown. The year the economy nose-dived into oblivion and life as we’d known it changed forever.  If we’d known how it would end, would we have done things any differently? I don’t know. I suspect society would have collapsed sooner rather than later. I don’t think we’d have spent a year and more sleep-walking into a political and cultural nightmare – with shops and businesses closing daily, neighbour tattling on neighbour and the surge in sales of black shower curtains, furtive comings-and-goings at all hours, and the police too busy arresting people who mostly didn’t have a clue whether today was rule-of-six or two-household (not including children) meeting outdoors in a private place that wasn’t a park and didn’t sell alcohol except as part of a substantial meal, which had to be eaten in two hours. Although you could go to the gym with whoever you liked. An...

Raw materials for wood engraving: a seasoned boxwood log, blocks and tools. Depending on what the UK Government announces ( literally as I write), the subject of this post will either grab your interest as something to do on a wet afternoon - or fill you with frustration at yet another plan that can't be done because the iron grill of lockdown (ooh, I like that) has descended once more. That is, dear reader, if you are the kind of person who takes delight in bookish things (and let's face it, who isn't?). Clare Leighton: The Farmer's Year. Between now and 31 December, 2020, the Blackwell Hall in the Weston Library (the splendid modern Bodleian building in Broad Street - just watch out for the disappearing steps outside) is holding a small but fascinating exhibition. Celebrating all that goes into the making of a book, Out of the Wood marks this year's centenary of the Society of Wood Engravers . Engravings and their blocks by Hilary Paynter and John Nash. Wood engr...