Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label kids. Show all posts

September 15, 2010

The fruits of 22 labours



It's been some time since I've written any kind of a book report here. Let me amend that lapse now. I know that's what you're all have been clamouring for at the backs of your minds, without really even knowing it. 

I won't go through all the historical books I read last summer - for after checking my reading diary I noticed that there is quite a number of them, most dealing with the Austen/Napoleon period, most appropriately. The memory of most of those, however, has now been blocked by Wolf Hall - which I'm reading now, and which is every bit as fantastic as they say it is. The (perhaps only) problem with a book of that stature is that it tends to overshadow everything else I'm reading at the time, diluting the pleasure of other books by reminding just how good prose can get. 

Fortunately Wolf Hall is facing some fierce competition; one of the books I read about a month ago refuses to be blotted out by another. I'm talking about Stella Tillyard's Aristocrats, a real-life story of four Lennox sisters whose lives spanned the latter part of the 18th century. The book has been made into a TV series, and that's how I first became aware of  the lives  of these quite amazing women some years ago. The splendour of the setting is one thing (after all, Caroline, Emily, Louisa and Sarah Lennox were aristocrats born and bred, and wed into well-connected and wealthy families), but what strikes me most is the sheer tenacity of the Lennox women and their strong mutual affection and loyalty, which must have carried them through some hard times.

I mean, if you've given birth to 22 children (like Emily did), you'll be mighty glad of some family support. 

Tudor times were also an era when family connections paid off; this at least was emphasised in Philippa Gregory's The Other Boleyn Girl.  I really liked the novel, especially Gregory's effortless depiction of Renaissance England and the court of Henry VIII, as well as her frank descriptions of the ribaldries that went on there. Placing Mary Boleyn in the centre of the story (instead of her more illustrious sister) is a good choice, as it gives the plot an element of suspense (after all, we all know what happened to Anne Boleyn). Yet I was somewhat disappointed in the rather straightforward solution of making Anne the scheming shrew and Mary the motherly lady-in-waiting who is all heart and loving tenderness. The Career Woman vs. the Mother debate in a nutshell = one gets her head chopped off, another gets to settle down with a good man of her choice.

Another book which gave me some ambivalent feelings is Mrs Caliban and Other Stories by Rachel Ingalls, which I just finished. I liked the slightly twisted starting points of the stories (including people being kidnapped by grannies in Switzerland, cheating their wives with a lifelike doll, or getting caught in a rain of frogs), but their solutions were depressingly rather similar. Most of the men (boyfriends, husbands, bosses) were portrayed as heartless bastards who only use women for their own gratification and start slapping them around when they show some character. That may work well to illustrate an important point in one novel, but after seven or eight of the same, the reader (or at least I) begins to feel the need of some more life-affirming stuff. 

Perhaps that's why I've been listening to a lot of Monty Python lately.

October 15, 2009

Lady in Black Eats off Swedish Plates



Here's what I accomplished today. After a couple of hours of babysitting M's daugther (with M safely in the same room, having her hair dyed) I took a turn in the local charity shop. My intention was to find something suitable to wear at my colleague's post- doctoral defense dinner: something rather more formal than the stuff currently lurking in my closet.

Now I'm the proud owner of a lovely black velvet dress - the first black dress I've ever owned. As can be gleaned from the photos, it's not entirely black (which made it less threatening for me), and judging by the label, it's none of your  usual [your favourite Swedish clothing chain] stuff. It cost me 6 euros.

Not bad, eh? Coupled with my 20s necklace it'll look right classy (and in a Viking-themed restaurant completely out of place, probably).

I also found a lovely stack of Rörstrand - my favourite Swedish vintage platemakers - plates. They cost an euro apiece, and don't clash too badly with my Finnish tablecloth, at least not yet. :)

Since Tuesday I've been floating in a kind of haze - glad that my thesis was so well received, and also so well criticised (after all, that's what this middle work between Master's and PhD is for), and at the same time uncertain of what to do next. My supervisor can probably help me with that, so until our next meeting I'll be killing time between lectures.

Which suits me just fine.

Here's what Kate Bush has to say about it:
 





May 12, 2009

New arrivals


This is "Eino". He was born on Sunday - just in time to make a great Mothers' Day gift for M - and I got to meet him when he was only a few hours old.

I'm not of the 'Miracle of Birth' school (meaning that I'm not overawed by the arrival of new life), but I'm a keen supporter of the 'Baby Animals Are Darn Cute' club. I would also be terrified to be left in charge of a newborn human (or indeed any human under 5); yet, I had no scruples watching over little Eino and bottlefeeding him until he learned how and where to get the milk himself (he finally mastered this at around 1 am).

September 22, 2008

A nose by any other name would smell

Went to an overly optimistic seminar today - there were people there trying to teach us poor PhD students how to turn our theses into commodities, i.e. how to make them sound more interesting to the general public, how to sell articles to newspapers and get rich and famous overnight. We'll see what happens. If I won't get famous by Xmas, I'll sue the History Department.

An interesting little incident occurred towards the end of the lecture. A youngish man put on his coat and collected his stuff: a dead giveaway that he was going to get out before the session was through. He excused himself to the lecturer by saying that he was leaving because of "family logistics".

Sounds important, doesn't it? It's not just picking kids up from the kindergarten; that's what mothers do. He made it sound like he was planning some sort of intricate process of moving people from place A to place B with the greatest efficiency. Which is exactly what mothers do. They just never make it sound so important.

I don't mean to denigrate his choice of words (or indeed the fact that he was picking up his kid(s)). In fact, I kind of admire what he was doing. I seriously think we women too, need to come up with such ponderous-sounding appellations for our daily tasks. If nothing else, it might just promote the idea that none of the domestic duties (cooking, cleaning, shopping, childcare etc.) is our biological destiny.

I'll leave you with this brilliant clip:










(via feministing)

September 01, 2008

Two stories that made my day


I'm fond of dogs, and not all that fond of children. So both of these stories brightened up my day considerably.

First, a link via Kaleidoglide about child-free zones in India. Hope this catches on in this country as well.

Then, a really awwww-inspiring story courtesy of The Cellar , proving that animal welfare isn't just for hippies and batty old ladies: a group of New York bikers who call themselves Rescue Ink have started investigating cases of animal abuse.

Very cute, and very very scary at the same time...