Authors Electric

When I’m reading a book review or looking at notices of coming play performances, there’s one word that tells me I need read no further. I know at once that this novel or this performance is not for me.  The word is ‘reimagining’.  Instead of the writer’s creating his or her own original work of art in novel or play form, they have piggy-backed on a classic, taken over the well-defined characters (saves the effort of creating their own), invented new plotlines and generally ‘updated’ the story to add ‘freshness’ and ‘relevance’ for today. A particular favourite at the moment is to go for a minor character – Mary Bennett, say – and retell Jane Austen’s great novel from her point of view . The result is a kind of Cosy Classics in which readers are duped into thinking they’re being given a new, original story when much of it is simply borrowed finery from an infinitely greater creator.  The Mill on the Floss by George Eliot. Told through the eyes of Maggie, NOT Tom Tulliver....

Thanks to a clever company called Slightly Foxed , I find myself reading a lot of memoirs nowadays. For those who haven’t yet discovered it, Slightly Foxed brings out a quarterly magazine  of essays about books - fiction, non-fiction, all genres - particularly prized by the contributors. Not recently published ones, no Booker shortlist here, but ones that have stood the test of time and become personal favourites. Reading these articles have not only reminded me of much-loved titles, but got me tracking down others I’d never heard of before.  Slightly Foxed Editions: pleasingly harmonious. (from foxedquarterly.com)  It was a natural progression, then, for Slightly Foxed to start its own imprint, Slightly Foxed Editions, a delightfully produced series of pocket hardback reprints of classic memoirs, unjacketed, each with a different colour binding, so that a whole shelf of them gives a pleasingly harmonious look. I know this because we have two and half shelves full, and ...

Monet: The Magpie : Wikipedia   A lonely, peaceful magpie... Best kind. Earlier this month, a gang of rowdy magpies had a right old ruckus with some crows in my garden. I was reading in a back room, but the noise was so loud and so persistent, I went into the garden to find out what on earth was going on. Magpies and crows, chasing each other round the trees and chimney-pots. Screeching. Cawing. Croaking. Flying at each other. You never heard such a racket. Not much Peace and Good Will there. And just yesterday, in a supermarket carpark, I saw two magpies chivvying a rat. You can't live for 'em. Let's change to quieter and more contemplative creatures... c   THE OXEN   Thomas Hardy   Christmas Eve, and twelve of the clock. “Now they are all on their knees,” An elder said as we sat in a flock By the embers in hearthside ease.   We pictured the mild creatures where They dwelt in their strawy pen. Nor did it occur to one of us there To doubt t...