It’s the last day of the year, so here’s a very quick roundup of my favourite posts from 2025. As I finish I’m observing the banner (bane of my roundup life) that this post is too long for email, so you may want to read it in the browser or the app.

Things I wrote

My favourite poems, of all the ones I wrote this year, came of stories. Here’s Merlin:

Melusine:

And there were several on Greek mythology:

And this, the odd one out, born of a slight cold and mystery novels:

In terms of fiction, I didn’t write much, but my best story is probably this one, which I wrote after re-watching Andor, thinking about the idea of prison planets, and having a very strange dream about grass.

And then there’s this very short story, which I wrote after reading a book of Irish fairy tales.

Things other people wrote

I’ve not been great with keeping up on my Substack reading this year, but here are a few pieces that have stuck with me:

A Stream of Words

Haunted by Christ

It is almost summer, though the weather here in Iowa gives no indication: we have had little sun, much rain, a surprising chill; only today, the light slips at last from behind storm clouds and linge…

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a year ago · 57 likes · 16 comments · Olivia Marstall

This was a marvelous essay, besides introducing me to Joy Davidman’s poetry, which I was unfamiliar with.

Bad Catechumen

Watching Towers Grow

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a year ago · 23 likes · 7 comments · Sam Downey-Higgins

The world described here is palpable. Everything is strange and familiar at once.

Across the Spheres

The Dunce Song of PJ Frufrufrock

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a year ago · 31 likes · 16 comments · Nik Hoffmann

Read it out loud, and you’ll see.

Automatic Writer

ρєяѕιммσηѕ

Bernard was a happy baby; no matter the weather outside or the mood of the house, he would look out from happy, if not docile, eyes. Pappa used to say that without Bernard’s cheerful disposition, our…

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10 months ago · 127 likes · 68 comments · Sean Thomas McDonnell

Very much enjoyed this, actually forgot where I was while reading it.

Turn Me Back Again

Cassandra

The wheel of justice grinds forever on and we are grist beneath it as it spins, ground down for all the sins of those who’ve gone, as others will be broken for our sins. Their blood cried out to us; ours calls again; the wheel grinds on; the wind unceasing blows; the count of crimes to answer only grows. I lied once, to the god and to myself, that I wo…

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5 months ago · 19 likes · 15 comments · Kate Bluett

I may have to copy this one out in my notebook. I’ve been reading through the Oresteia since March, and Kate’s take on it is still going round in my brain.

Mimesis Kinesis

In the Silence of God

Your breath, caught where the flowers wither in dry vases. Your voice, drowned out in the silence of God. There is a quiet like a blade held to the throat, a quiet something like unmaking, deeper than the grave— the lack of something fundamental, missing breath, delayed reaction to necessity. The house around us listens, waiting for a proclamation…

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7 months ago · 34 likes · 12 comments

The absence of sound in words, and it works perfectly.

And that’s all for this year. I will see you in 2026.

Iris Shaw

Hello all,

It’s been a while since I’ve done one of these. So, partly to inform you (but also to remind myself how it goes) this post is a summary of what I’ve written this month, as well as a number of Substack pieces I’ve enjoyed. Feel free to skip through at your leisure!

Quick Aside: A Journal Update

As I mentioned (back in December, I think?), the next spate of Journal poems will be on the Oresteia. I’d hoped to start writing these in March, but unfortunately I was quite sick for a month around that time, and have struggled to write much of anything since. Things have taken a turn for the better the past couple of weeks, though, and I’ve gotten a few poems down. I’m hoping to re-launch the project this month, and will probably be sending out an introductory post soon.

Things I wrote:

Just poems this month. I am particularly proud of Galatea, though, which may be one of the best things I’ve written this year.

Things other people wrote:

Horace & friends

The only baby in all of Horace

Obviously, since this blog or essay-site or column or newsletter or whatever it is is called Horace & friends, Horace is a favourite of mine; and as most of you know, because I mention them quite often, I also have three children ranging from toddler to 12. I had terrible pregnancies — record-breakingly so with the first two, spending weeks (#1) and mon…

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a year ago · 41 likes · 4 comments · Victoria

Poetics with Robert Charboneau

Misfortune blinds us like the driven snow

’Pretending to be disgusted by the drab old buildings ... [Nero] brazenly set fire to the city ... This terror lasted for six days and seven nights, causing many people to take shelter in monuments and tombs ... Nero watched the conflagration from the Tower of Maecenas, enraptured by what he called ‘the beauty of the flames’; then put on his tragedian’s…

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a year ago · 27 likes · 8 comments · Robert Charboneau

The Palace of Night

DREAM SEQUENCE WITH WHALESONG

In 2005, I wrote a poem inspired by a recurring dream in which I found myself afloat in a nighttime sea. The stars were scattered like diamond dust across the sky and reflected in the calm, dark water, and I could not really tell if I floated in the embrace of the ocean or the heavens. I was not afraid—only steeped in wonder. All was silent and still un…

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a year ago · 28 likes · 22 comments · Liz Zimmers

Andras Kisery

Shakespeare authorship: "a sense of how things do not happen"

I seem to have gotten myself into a debate about Shakespeare’s authorship of his own works, something I am generally trying to avoid…

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a year ago · 37 likes · 16 comments · Andras Kisery

Across the Spheres

The Branch’s Spark

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a year ago · 12 likes · Nik Hoffmann

Sonnets and Other Stories

Beatrice Replies

First, fear not for Dante. Though his trail Is long, and though his journey far from done When he’s in Heav’n these doubts will not prevail. For him, for you, Christ has the victory won. Have confidence. You know, I think, that men With various gifts of intellect are born. But ‘ware the greater gift. Great vice comes thence Once we believe we know…

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a year ago · 19 likes · 1 comment · Caelyn Snyder

Bad Catechumen

Watching Towers Grow

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a year ago · 21 likes · 6 comments · Sam Downey-Higgins

Penny Wagers

Unseen Asgard

Beneath the scenes of holiday brochures Where paradise is promised, never found Forgotten souls await behind the doors Of destiny’s Collector of the Drowned Above a city’s strangled arteries Where wealth and opportunity are born A Watchman tells a Seeker what he sees Then rests before it’s time to blow the Horn Across the bridge of reason and routine A …

Listen now

a year ago · 22 likes · 14 comments · James Hart

Song:

Thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Today’s post is short — not even a recap, really, just some of the best things I wrote this year, some I really enjoyed writing, and some you clearly enjoyed reading! So without further ado, the best of Long Oddities in 2024:

Poetry

Fiction

Thank you so much for reading Long Oddities this year! Your kind words, comments, and encouragement mean more to me than I could ever say. I look forward to whatever it is that next year holds, and in the meantime thank you, once more!

Iris Shaw

Hello all,

Welcome back to the monthly review! It’s later than usual getting out, for which I apologise — I have a cold and am currently sniffling my way through a box of tissues.

We had our first proper snow of the year on December 1st, and it was snowing again when I started this. We tend to have our first snow in October, so frankly I was feeling a bit cheated until now, but Canadian winter has finally decided to step up. Cue a cheer for very picturesque snow, and a sigh for all that shoveling.

This post is a summary of what I’ve written this month, as well as some Substack pieces I’ve enjoyed, and a song (as per. You know the drill). And as always, feel free to skip through at your leisure.

Things I wrote:

In November there was a return of the work injury (not so bad, just a lot of aching) so there were four poems and not three poems plus a short story, as I’d hoped. But I did quite enjoy writing the poems, which include some of the weirder ones I’ve posted here.

I also wrote four Journal posts:

Things other people wrote:

Petra Glyphs

Don't Push The Button

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2 years ago · 12 likes · 9 comments · Petra Hernandez

From the Mountains of the Sun

Old Myth

My last villanelle watched the dryads among the trees; this one looks up to the Fates…

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2 years ago · 18 likes · 19 comments · A. Christine Myers

The Height and The Depth

The Bard - He Sings

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a year ago · 10 likes · 4 comments · Brit McReynolds

Rhyme n' Metre

Sonnet XVIII

Italian Girl with Flowers (Joaquín Sorolla, 1886…

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a year ago · 27 likes · 14 comments · Thomas McKendry

Verdurous Glooms

On His Baldness

I realize my audience for this one must be very narrow, but I send it out to my small corner of the internet in the hopes that someone can appreciate the jokes. Dear John, forgive me. When I consider where my glory went, Those spendthrift follicles of flitting youth (Now impotent to shroud the glaring truth) Still issue, from their sacs incontinent, D…

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a year ago · 5 likes · 4 comments · J. Tullius

A Stream of Words

beatrice to benedick

Let never mortals scorn the god of love…

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a year ago · 31 likes · 11 comments · Olivia Marstall

Tales of Calamity and Triumph

Clint Eastwood's "Pale Rider" - A Tale of Faith, Retribution, and True American Mythmaking

Let’s get this out of the way now. I adore Pale Rider…

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a year ago · 20 likes · 7 comments · The Man Behind the Screen

Mimesis Kinesis

Native & Form Friday Sonnet

This month’s theme: “Where I Am: Poems of Place…

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a year ago · 14 likes · 11 comments · Mark Rico

A work of fiction

The Milkmaid

Among the green rolling hills of the countryside on the finest day of spring, you’d be hard pressed to find a smile more glorious than that of the milkmaid, content in her work. In one small village, called Norwood, you’ll find the prettiest milkmaids in the world, and your life will be all the better for it. They each sit among the cows, perched on sto…

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a year ago · 36 likes · 25 comments · Hanna Delaney

Song:

This post’s title comes from this Emily Dickinson poem.

Thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello all,

Welcome back to the monthly review! As I write this it is entirely dark, cold and windy outside, and I’m draped in a blanket, toga-style — not very imposing at the best of times — and the less said about those penguin fuzzy socks, the better.

This post is a summary of what I’ve written this month, a handful of pieces by other people I’ve thoroughly enjoyed, plus some photos (say what you will about the summers, autumn where I live is like nothing else), and a song. As always, feel free to skip through at your leisure.

Things I wrote:

In October I published five poems:

I also wrote a piece of flash fiction for the Macabre Monday Halloween writing contest, and I’m happy to say it was the winning entry! If you enjoy this one, I’d suggest taking a look at the other entries, many of which you can find through here.

Finally, I wrote four Journal posts:

Things other people wrote:

Bad Catechumen

Orpheus on All Hallows AM

program 1: Signing On Go (static) fully. Very (static) fully. Go carefully. Very carefully. I’m still back here bowing horsehair to goatgut When and where the veils are thin. This is Orpheus at All Hallows Station, Maintaining the song while you drive Like a line of pink lightning from Heaven, Followed by horses in e…

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2 years ago · 17 likes · 4 comments · Sam Downey-Higgins

Dunmore Dispatch

Ice & Candlelight

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window…

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2 years ago · 12 likes · 4 comments · Ian Dunmore

Verdurous Glooms

A Reflection on Reflection

“Memory, once waked, will play the tyrant.” —Orual, Till We Have FacesFailed Correspondence You died and left me—after I left you— our many letters left to capture me forever in a pose of eager life with burgeoning assumptions of a We, abstractions of the husband and his wife. But in my eye there glittered other fruit. Then was I glad to dine again al…

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2 years ago · 7 likes · J. Tullius

Penny Wagers

Galilean: a dream poem

We used to know about dreams…

Listen now

2 years ago · 18 likes · 14 comments · James Hart

May the Sun Shine On Us In the Depths by Honeygloom

It's For A Story

Master of Puppets

Radiance is a lighthearted fiction serial about one of Earth's darker timelines. It takes place around 2013 in a world where atypical abilities have become increasingly common, with the storyline following a group of minor-league superheroes based in Washington, DC. Our protagonist is Lady Radiance, former teen sensation, aka Christabel Jones, professio…

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2 years ago · 9 likes · 10 comments

A Stylist Submits

Verse in the Discord

Verse in the DiscordUnwritten dark matter in scroll always / no / no wasteland there is no land to waste / nuclei can’t hold electric thoughts can’t bear / no / unwriteable diodes not even decay exists / where can we / no / grayed space that doesn’t unfurl form beauty or fine sounds / thumbs can’t grate stop or feel / no wasteland Then came five couple…

Listen now

2 years ago · 15 likes · 3 comments · Kevin LaTorre

The Palace of Night

The White Duchess

From the diary of Lucienne Ste. Martin…

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2 years ago · 26 likes · 27 comments · Liz Zimmers

Photos:

Song:

Thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello all,

Welcome back to the (slightly belated) monthly review. The leaves are turning and starting to fall where I live, and when the wind blows it has an edge to it, the kind that’ll go through your bones by the middle of November.

September was a quieter month for me, writing-wise. I had a work-related injury at the beginning of the month, which left me unable to write or type for very long, and definitively quashed my October writing plans (especially the short story-related ones). But things are healing now, if slowly, and I’ve found myself writing down new ideas again, scraps of verse and bits of dialogue.

This post will be more like the ones I’ve done this summer, in that it’ll be a summary of what I’ve written this month, and a few other pieces I’ve enjoyed (I’m undecided about re-introducing the short book review section I used to have). As always, feel free to skip through at your leisure.

Things I wrote:

In September I published four poems:

(I have a special fondness for No more yielding, since I wrote this one back in high school, around the time I realised that I could actually write proper poetry.)

I also wrote four Journal posts:

Things other people wrote:

Dispatches From the Basement

On the Cusp

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2 years ago · 42 likes · 7 comments · Joseph Massey

Mimesis Kinesis

Rain’s the Bard That Sings My Heart Alive

Movement grows slowly before fall crawling as the ground, parched for months contracts to yield space for cracks dry mouths unsealed to drink deep when clouds jack their wallets open to close summer’s tab at the bar like a friend who knows. Puddles bar my way on sidewalks, shadows fall more softly and windows open on Euros as he chases months of old ai…

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2 years ago · 14 likes · 4 comments · Mark Rico

Economical with Fiction

Part 1 of The Charlotte Brontë industry: Victorian victimhood and literary legacies

I am not really a Charlotte Brontë fan, and so it’s a bit odd that I chose to read a book about her final years and legacy. Part of the reason is I admire the author – Graham Watson edited my book Wolfie, back when I was writing for children, and more importantly I know that he absolutely loves his subject and academic research gen…

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2 years ago · 39 likes · 16 comments · E.J. Barnes

olivet poetry

the ikon.

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2 years ago · 13 likes · 2 comments · Ollie Burgess

Silver Door

A Child Considers His Senescene

Make no mistake I know the sort: They pick blackberries and they drink To well-intentioned spirits in the morn. Their coats are always wet with mist; They used their legs enough to limp. They have a golden-handled pocket-knife Studded with horn. And they write poems beneath a lamp Designed with panels of the Wild Hunt; They grow for tea the blue-leaved …

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2 years ago · 10 likes · J.Z Schafer

Ferns of Columbo

Laundry Day

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2 years ago · 29 likes · 18 comments · Jon T

A.N. Wilson

Annunciation in Norfolk

I like anomalies. Today is the Feast of Our Lady of Walsingham . You don’t get anomalies much more anomalous than Walsingham. When King George V visited the Norfolk village , he poked his nose into the shrine which had lately been built by the Anglican vicar, Alfred Hope Patten, in 1922. Gazing with amazement at the Holy House, supposedly a replica …

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2 years ago · 19 likes · 3 comments · A.N. Wilson

A NEW MOON

Middle Age

Every day of late I close my eyes…

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2 years ago · 24 likes · 1 comment · Huck

At Home and In Exile

The Organ Underground

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2 years ago · 15 likes · 8 comments · Peter Harrison

Song:

As always, thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello all,

Welcome back to the monthly review. August was a bit of a rough month here, but I’m looking forward to this fall and some cooler weather.

Today’s post is a roundup of the things I’ve written and other Substack pieces I’ve enjoyed (my original draft said nice and short here, but it’s not really now I’ve finished. Let’s just say my saved list really got out of control this month).

Oh, also, a quick reminder that the normal weekly schedule at Long Oddities resumes this Tuesday!

Things I wrote:

In August I published two poems:

I also wrote five Journal posts. In July I started toying with a new format for these, including some of the passages that the poems are based on.

Things other people wrote:

Automatic Writer

Muid

Diving was a daily baptism; he sank like a divine stone, bubbles rising to the surface of the River Thames, popping and releasing his prayer to some unnamed god looking down on London. It was his thirteenth dive this month, but this time, this time felt different. This time, he would find what he’d been searching for…

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2 years ago · 26 likes · 21 comments · Sean Thomas McDonnell

Naptime Novelist

The Gardener

Thanks for stopping by! Below you’ll find “The Gardener”, a fantasy flash fiction written for the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Contest. You can find more information about the contest and the prompts at the bottom of the post…

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2 years ago · 35 likes · 24 comments · Bridget Riley

Golgonooza

(a trifle)

That cold aristocrat Fell for the young milk-maid; No sense, his father said, in that, Yet he could not be swayed. He bought a ring of Chinese jade, And called upon her father’s house; The girl she answered in a blouse That was a faerie hue Of green freckled with blue. Her father was out back she said Digging the grave in which he hoped His seed-bones w…

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2 years ago · 12 likes · J.Z Schafer

The World We Are

Oral surgery villanelle

Nelly Bryce over at Poetry Pals recently shared the following prompt about villanelles…

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2 years ago · 35 likes · 48 comments · Margaret Ann Silver

Bad Catechumen

Willow River Conversation (for Michael)

Nobody knows the Willow River’s name, and in her anonymity, she runs. The colours on the ruined statue run, the sun blares down conversationally. Her honest Sumerian symmetry is acquired through honest conversation in an unusual reflected reign. Willow River, there will be nothing left to say if you are not dammed. There is much tha…

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2 years ago · 14 likes · 4 comments · Sam Downey-Higgins

Past the Dragon

The Actual Point of Literature Most Readers Forget

**This essay contains significant spoilers of the books Piranesi by Susanna Clarke and The Magician’s Nephew by C. S. Lewis…

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2 years ago · 111 likes · 49 comments · Clifford Stumme

The Palace of Night

Death Is No Land for the Weak

The first thing you need to know is that I knew I was dead. That’s important because I’m not claiming I was lost or confused. It’s true that I had a sudden death, the kind the psychics like to say creates an angry spirit, or a stupefied one that wanders around moaning. I can remember the event, but it doesn’t hold any charge for me. It’s like it happene…

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2 years ago · 16 likes · 22 comments · Liz Zimmers

Ferns of Columbo

Freeple of Braid

I’m a robot. You’re probably a robot too. Process wants me to start keeping a journal, so this is entry number one. They tell me it’ll make me a better robot—more content with my work—more understanding of my existence and what I’m here to do…

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2 years ago · 20 likes · 13 comments · Jon T

Across the Spheres

From the Cosmos, A Blade

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2 years ago · 10 likes · 6 comments · Nik Hoffmann

Song:

I’ve had Yeats on the brain recently, and happened to remember the existence of this song (a setting of his poem The Two Trees), which I first heard years ago. Enjoy!

As always, thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello everyone,

I hope your respective summers are going well. I’m really enjoying my break — I’ve been working on my day job, catching up with my looming TBR pile, and playing around with a few writing projects.

Just so that you know, today’s post (and probably next month’s as well) will simply be an overview of what I’ve written this month, and a list of a few great posts by other people on here. Short and sweet!

Things I wrote:

In July I published one poem and one short story:

I also wrote four Journal poems.

Things other people wrote:

Poems Ancient and Modern

Today’s Poem: By What Mistake Were Pigeons

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2 years ago · 19 likes · 9 comments · Joseph Bottum

Readymades

Hammershøi

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2 years ago · 16 likes · Chris Hunt

Silver Door

This is The School in Which We Learn

What will become of you and me (This is the school in which we learn...) Besides the photo and the memory? (... that time is the fire in which we burn.) Calmly We Walk through This April's Day, Delmore Schwartz…

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2 years ago · 14 likes · Nathan Woods

Mostly Aesthetics

King Lear as Tragedy

In grand ceremony King Lear parcels out his kingdom, intending afterwards to retire, and “unburdened crawl toward death.” But who shall get what? For this he runs a royal bonus round, and the contestants, his daughters, must answer, “Which of you shall we say doth love us most?” After insincere speeches from Goneril and Regan, Cordelia…

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2 years ago · 15 likes · 3 comments · Brad Skow

English Republic of Letters

Now You See Us

Tate Britain feels like the poor cousin among the great art museums in London. It lacks the scale and buzz of Tate Modern, the location and dazzling collection of the National Gallery, and even palls beside the colourful glamour of the Wallace Collection…

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2 years ago · 81 likes · 59 comments · Jeffrey Streeter

Song:

I wasn’t originally going to add one for this post, but this rendition is fantastic:

As always, thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello everyone,

Welcome back to the monthly review. This one is definitely too long for email, so you’ll probably want to view it in the app or your browser. Below you’ll find the usual sections, and as always, feel free to skip through at your leisure.

(Some) books I read:

The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt (first time)

I wanted to enjoy this one, I really did. And the first quarter (maybe third) was quite good, in a Dickensian-meets-contemporary-semi-thriller sort of way. But it fell apart after that — it was incoherent (especially the sermonising at the end, which went on forever), characters made sillier and sillier choices the older they became, and at least two fairly major plot events were simply passed over and summarised later. Actually I think the summarising was really what did the book in for me, though I did finish it, which says something, if a very disappointed something.

The Lathe of Heaven - Ursula K. Le Guin (first time)

Really enjoyed this one, in part because the plot got steadily less predictable as the dreams multiplied. One thing that did strike me as funny was the bit where really “high” property prices are mentioned — sad to say they seemed like a very good deal.

A Canticle for Leibowitz - Walter M. Miller (first time)

I knew exactly which friend I would recommend this to as soon as I finished the book, whereupon I remembered that he had already recommended it to me years ago and I had completely forgotten it until that moment.

Things I wrote:

In June I published three regular poems and one short story, as well as five posts in the Journal.

I’m really happy with all three of these poems, especially Midsummer, which I wrote back in March while on holiday.

This was the story I wrote for the sadly canceled Macabre Monday writing contest. I had a couple of ideas which perished along the way, but the one that survived was more or less along the lines of “something like the Weeping Angels — but infectious — they can turn you into a statue by touching you and you wind up standing on your own gravestone — also Gothic”. I think it turned out very well, despite the fact that I realised halfway through I can’t actually spell cemetery. Slight oversight there…

Macabre Monday

Unquiet Grave

It was Patrick’s idea to visit the cemetery. I wouldn’t have gone at all, except that it was mid-October, and everything was dull and grey and dripping with rain, and I was depressed as hell. Actually I was a photography major with a project due, and dating time (or any kind of free time) was a sick joke for Patrick, who had decided to be an architect. S…

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2 years ago · 21 likes · The Chronicler and Iris Shaw

And here are all the Journal poems I wrote this month:

Things other people wrote:

A Year of Bach

June 25: Cantatas (Bach Academie Stuttgart; Hans-Christoph Rademann, conductor)

You get one guess as to what the Apple Music algo is recommending to me these days. I’ve become an easy mark, it’s okay. So, courtesy of my very particular “For You” page, we will be listening to new cantata recordings from a most excellent German chamber orchestra and chorus: the Bach Academie Stuttgart with the Gächinger Kantorei conducted by its musi…

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2 years ago · 11 likes · 5 comments · Evan Goldfine

The Palace of Night

Snow Eva

Once upon a time, I made a fairytale that was a retelling, a re-imagining, of Snow White. I thought about the classic tale’s touchstone components: the magic mirror; the evil(?) queen driven mad by the sight of young Snow White’s growing beauty; the huntsman dispatched with his dire charge; the queen transformed and of…

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2 years ago · 13 likes · 18 comments · Liz Zimmers

just a guy

Rhythms

Droplets from the sprinkler sway (Back and forth) (Back and forth) Thrumming on what's in the way (Back and forth) (Back and forth) Leaves become a snare and ride (Back and forth) (Back and forth) Polyrhythmic beats subside (Back and forth) (Back and forth) As the sprinkler moves away (Back and forth) (Back and forth) Irises receive the spray (Back and …

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2 years ago · 22 likes · 16 comments · erniet

Golgonooza

(a trifle)

Through meadows that no feet have trod That drop through worlds of flame and dew The hand of God has reached from me to you; He brought me as a rose your heart. His arms were scratched Because I scratched them, being blind. Because he knew What thing he made when he made me, and you, He did not cease to reach. And though I clawed With all the forethough…

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2 years ago · 9 likes · J.Z Schafer

Treats of Writing

His House at R'lyeh

*Tape static* …Those of us who reached shore were pretty beat-dog tired, shell shocked from the crash. My senses must have been rusty. Only explanation. God never made nothing like what I saw. What I heard. The other gal who survived - the stewardess, Ms. Azani - did you talk to her? She might've seen something when she got left alone. I heard she's gone …

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2 years ago · 23 likes · 12 comments · Sam Rake

olivet poetry

splinters / paper & ink

listen to a recording of the poem here: the library is not made of stories, but of wooden leaves that leave splinters. to read Flannery O’Connor or Dostoevsky is to be Sleeping Beauty pricked by the spindle. the world is not made of life, but of death and resurrection. even Adam and Eve were mortals, needing stitches of olive splinters to stop …

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2 years ago · 12 likes · 2 comments · Ollie Burgess

Pictures I took:

Song:

RIP Françoise Hardy.

Thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello everyone,

I was looking at my to-do list today, making note of what I still had left, with the vague feeling that there was something missing from the list. Which of course there was; namely, this post. My apologies for the lapse!

Below you’ll find most of the usual sections, slightly abbreviated, and as always, feel free to skip through at your leisure.

(Some) books I read:

The Mauritius Command + Desolation Island - Patrick O’Brian (first time)

More of the same, enjoyable as (almost) always, except for the sea jargon, which still goes over my head. Have portioned the series out to allow myself two books a month instead of one for the rest of the year.

Stalingrad - Antony Beevor (first time)

Moved this up in the queue thanks to . What struck me most was how the book details the astronomical waste; so many lives thrown away in gratifying the egos at the top of both German and Soviet commands. Perfectly captures the idiocy and brutality on both sides – though the Soviets, in the end, came out rather worse than the Germans. Never bothered to note how many times the words suspicious, tribunal, and execute came up in relation to the Soviets; I soon stopped counting. Fascinating, never once dragging, obviously very well researched.

The Sea, the Sea - Iris Murdoch (first time)

Brilliant. Not least in the way she can make you care what happens to a man who is a snob, a jealous idiot, and a probable madman – I never once put down the book out of exasperation. She never condescends to her characters, or looks down on them; nor does she feel the need for a comfortable moral.

Things I wrote:

In May I published three regular poems and one short story, as well as four posts in The Journal. No flash fiction this month, but I’ve got a few prompts saved up for when I have a bit more free time.

I wrote this piece while stuck on my serial. Actually, I’m still stuck on my serial, but writing this (set in the same world) was fun. And probably cheating. But fun.

And here are all the Journal poems I wrote this month:

Things other people wrote:

English Republic of Letters

Poetry in Oxford: Fit for verse

And if unfit for tombs and hearse Our legend be, it will be fit for verse. John Donne, The Canonisation * Some of you may remember that in my post about my attempt to introduce Kurt Vonnegut to an audience in Oxford on behalf of the Literary Society…

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2 years ago · 77 likes · 71 comments · Jeffrey Streeter

Poems Ancient and Modern

Today’s Poem: Clerihews

On Wednesdays here at Poems Ancient and Modern, we try to offer entries a little more airy, a little more comic. And why not? The tradition of light verse in English is long and deep, filled with entries by famous poets and talented little-knowns alik…

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2 years ago · 22 likes · 4 comments · Joseph Bottum

Automatic Writer

The Children's Song

Three children swim between split brown stilts. Their songs can be heard by the jovial Sunday crowd going about their day above them on the pleasure pier. It’s a pleasant sound. Alluring. Kent Summers is on lifeguard duty. He yells to the children to come out from beneath the pier, to play out where he can watch them. “It’s not safe,” he yells…

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2 years ago · 28 likes · 23 comments · Sean Thomas McDonnell (Horror)

Bad Catechumen

Hearing Ghosts, South England

miles away his bodiless voice ajar seeking paradise - Don Domanski, 'A Dirge' ___ Try to say it gradually, with cadence flexed against the ivory chatter of the whining in the chest: the ghost-whispering of Kent then Sussex in the rumble of dead tongues and fossil jaws, turning old cottages to ru…

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2 years ago · 7 likes · Sam Downey-Higgins

Andrew's Substack

An Amulet Against the Ennui:

In the art of writing we expose our inner lives to examination; we bring hidden dragons to the surface and contend with them. We scrutinise our unwelcome thoughts on the page, and, in some sense, purify them. In this light, writing is a purgatorial practice…

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2 years ago · 73 likes · 16 comments · Coffee With Keats

Shades of Blue

Thomas Tallis / Spem in alium (Hope in Any Other)

When anyone asks for an off-the-beaten-path destination to explore in New York City, I implore them to visit the Cloisters Museum, the Metropolitan Museum of Art's outpost for medieval European art. Located near the northern tip of Manhattan, the muse…

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2 years ago · 14 likes · 10 comments · Michael Cirigliano II

Pictures I took:

Song:

Thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello everyone,

I’m not going to start this by talking about the weather in April, because there’s really no point. This month we got everything. Let your imagination run wild.

Aside from that it was a decent month, quite busy work-wise for me, but when compiling the Things I Wrote section I was actually surprised how much I’d gotten done. I’m quite pleased with that, since in the past I’ve tended to let my writing slide during busy periods.

Below you’ll find the usual sections, and as always, feel free to skip through at your leisure.

Books I read:

20 000 Leagues Under the Sea - Jules Verne (first time)

I was extremely disappointed by this one, as it is mostly descriptions of ocean life, or Captain Nemo being cynical about life on the surface, and the narrator eating up every word. Around the World in 80 Days was much better, as it featured neither a fawned-upon Byronic hero, nor a rather dimwitted Canadian, as central characters. This book more often read like an old biology textbook than an adventure story.

H.M.S. Surprise - Patrick O’Brian (first time)

These books are growing on me. The naval cant, I confess, grows no clearer, but I’m surprised by how familiar the characters have become. Would not at all be surprised if O’Brian had never been on a boat in his life, but he can make you believe it.

Never Let Me Go - Kazuo Ishiguro (first time)

Not entirely sure I’ve gotten over this one. Ishiguro observes so well how the things you say - especially the smallest, most inconsequential ones - can change your entire relationship with someone else. They can both ruin and resurrect lives. I finished it knowing I’ll come back to it very soon.

The Razor’s Edge - W. Somerset Maugham (first time)

Got this off a bargain cart at the library. I read The Painted Veil back in September & had a similar experience - you think it’ll be rather boring, but after the first few pages you can’t stop. I finished most of this one in a day. Massively entertaining characters, including the world’s greatest snob, a serial artists’ mistress, and an American out to find the meaning of life. My local used bookstore has a fairly good selection of Somerset Maugham’s novels, so I’ll look those up when I’m next in.

The Dark Lord of Derkholm - Diana Wynne Jones (re-read)

The cleverest way of incorporating fantasy clichés I’ve ever read.

Things I watched:

Slow Horses Series 2-3 (first time)

Finished these too quickly as I don’t think there’ll be another series before the end of the year. Oh well. These were brilliant - not a particularly original opinion, but it’s true! I’d watch another two happily.

Les Trois Mousquetaires : D'Artagnan (first time)

Very good, nice score, excellent hats (honestly, not many actresses can pull off smoking a pipe and wearing a feathered hat, but Eva Green certainly can). My French comprehension was embarrassingly bad (I understood maybe 5-10%), but the English subtitles were more than sufficient. I’ll definitely watch the next part.

Things I wrote:

In April I published four regular poems and one short story, as well as one piece of flash fiction, and four posts in The Journal.

I used ’s prompts and a few old characters for this piece, which I enjoyed writing very much.

And I finally finished this short story, which has been on my to-write-soon list since, erm, last fall.

I also properly started The Journal this month! Writing these poems is the new highlight of my week. We’ve come to the end of Wolf Hall, so poems here will be responding to Bring Up the Bodies for the next little while.

Things other people wrote:

A few excellent pieces from my saved folder:

The Semi-Serious View

Francesco

At sixteen, I played in a band. We sucked. I can’t even remember our name. Maybe I removed it. But I do remember Francesco. Francesco lived far from our rehearsal place. It’d take him an hour to drive in from his small village in nowhere land, if it wasn’t raining. On rainy days, driving up and down those rough, curvy c…

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2 years ago · 17 likes · 20 comments · Silvio Castelletti

Andrea_igadwsp’s Substack

Farewell Party for Wolf Hall

Time to celebrate The Wolf Hall Menu Some Culinary Quotes Looking back Time to celebrate, fellow WolfCrawlers! It's time to celebrate our reading journey through the first book and to round off the end of the book in style with a feast. Below is the Wolf Hall menu, there should be something for every WolfCrawler and don't forget to pick up a souvenir from…

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2 years ago · 66 likes · 45 comments · Andrea

Golgonooza

(a trifle)

To braid out of the air a son’rous crown Much deft requires; and for thy head, much more. Upon thy lips like clinging dew they drown Into such cauldrons of ambrose that war And famine seem the blue tongue o’ a struck match, And Holy is the darkness what does close In purple tides around that treacherous watch; The needle is best thrid by one that knows…

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2 years ago · 5 likes · J.Z Schafer

Naptime Novelist

Down in the Holler: The Dream

This is Down in the Holler, a serial speculative mystery novella featuring Judith Temple, psychic detective. Click here for the Down in the Holler Navigation Page. Mist leeches through the mountains like a living thing, pouring down undulating hills and entombing the wet-leafed ground, darkened by the clustered trees…

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2 years ago · 36 likes · 28 comments · Bridget Riley

Silver Door

Bear Lake Encyclical

At this cross of unhoused roads an unbuilt county; here's its wreckage rusting on its beach; this iron body off the northern highway scabbed and dyed by rust and sunlight, strained the red and white of bearing knuckle baffling brightly muscled August’s reach into the lake's nocturnal straits. It lays a scintillation in black certainty…

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2 years ago · 12 likes · 13 comments · Nathan Woods

Pictures I took:

Song:

And that’s all. Thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello everyone,

Welcome to the monthly review! It’s a bit shorter this month, since I took some time off in the middle to do not much of anything except have ideas — an experience which I recommend but would not repeat too often in case of spontaneous combustion by idea overload.

Below you’ll find the usual sections for books and photos, pieces I wrote, and a few pieces I found on Substack this month. As always, feel free to skip through at your leisure.

Books I read:

The Bell - Iris Murdoch (first time)

Very good - she is incisive without ever disliking or “seeing through” the characters, and insistent on the marriage of both reality and ideas in order to live well. Not particularly encouraging if one has a passing desire to be a hermit, though. I read this mainly because of Henry Oliver's excellent posts on Iris Murdoch back in February.

Mansfield Park - Jane Austen (re-read)

It’s taken a very long time, but I am warming to this book. Mrs. Norris is one of Austen’s most vivid and most horrible characters - I hesitate to say of Dickensian proportions, because one can’t imagine even Dickens’ worst characters delivering such constant little soul-destroying slights over years. None of his villains are such perfect blends of ridiculousness, pettiness, and cruelty, nor so acceptable to society at large as Mrs. Norris is. No wonder Fanny Price is so timid, with such an aunt as that. It’s a miracle she sees as clearly as she does.

Post Captain - Patrick O’Brian (first time)

I enjoyed this one rather more than the first book, probably because Aubrey and Maturin spend a lot more time on land and there isn’t nearly as much sea jargon.

Tamburlaine the Great, Part I - Christopher Marlowe (first time)

Not for me. Too blunt & too many long speeches. Also, because it’s Marlowe, two characters die by bashing their brains out on metal bars.

Vigils - Siegfried Sassoon (first time)

As I’d never read Sassoon’s poems (apart from a couple of the war ones), I downloaded this book from a public domain website. I read it in one long morning, sitting beside a canal. On the whole I enjoyed the book well enough, but imagine my surprise when I came across the phrase “library of time”! His library is a library of the dead, though, and a shadowy sort of place.

Human Histories

The multitudinous dead, like books unread,

Are somewhere in the library of Time.

Glimpses we get, of what they felt and said,—

Humdrum and homely, or loftily sublime:

But mostly they are ghostly, nameless, nought,

Whose journeying shadows fell and left no trace;

Whose worlds in worlds of woven and welded thought

Are now the language of a vanished race.

Nothing exists in life more strange than these

Lost lineaments of human histories.

Things I watched:

The Prestige (first time)

The final reveal didn’t do it for me - I felt that the science fiction elements sat at odd with the rest of the story, which is really just Amadeus, but they’re trying to kill each other.

Slow Horses (first time)

I loved this - very much like le Carre, but the characters aren’t thinking about sex/death/philosophy all the time; definitely a plus, and also they are believably incompetent. Thank goodness there’s another full series to go, and more planned.

I also went to see Dune Part II, which was all right. The images and sound are very good in the theatre, of course, almost visceral, but the changes to the story were a great deal less subtle than in the first part, and I’m unsure if they worked overall.

Things I wrote:

In March I published three poems and one short story.

I wrote the short story for the Macabre Monday writing contest. The theme was music, and of course, I went for classical.

I also launched a new section, the Journal, which I’m dedicating to shorter poems.

Things other people wrote:

A smattering of poetry and fiction this time.

RiverWords

Icarus Descending

Icarus DescendingI wonder if the sun tastes like an orange or is it a grapefruit full of bitterness had I gone at night I might have heard a knocking on this hollow earth the precious sound of footfalls bones rattling in the soil the great cooing of a collective wind the fickleness of petty gods and the brief tenure of their days the overturn of silver …

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2 years ago · 49 likes · 26 comments · Mathew Snyder

Prosopon

The Case Against Talking Fridges

It was the day the fridge gained consciousness. It had been, before that, a perfectly inanimate cooling thingy. It gave you ice, cold water and told you, in what she interpreted as a passive-aggressive tone, how many times you had opened it since this morning…

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2 years ago · 7 likes · Prosopon

Silver Door

The Sacred Wood

Perhaps that I could find you in a Sacred Wood, Once there, a flag to plant, and dub Nowhere, Elsewise by caterpillar crowds no doubt it would Be sooner overrun than could I glimpse you there Washing in purple water your grey dappled hair, Until the bath wherein I found you should Become the firmament of worlds unmade, Or splash you me, and me become a …

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2 years ago · 10 likes · 2 comments · J.Z Schafer

Pictures I took:

Song:

You know, some day I may stop picking Bach. This is not that day. Here’s the final chorus of the St Matthew Passion:

And that’s all for now. Thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello everyone,

Welcome to the monthly review (which I am emailing out for the first time)! I am glad February’s over - it’s been the mildest one I can remember, except for the wind, which would strip the skin off your bones if it could but instead settles for making your nose hurt, your eyes water, and your teeth freeze, while cold saliva dribbles slowly out the corner of your mouth.

Yes, the weather was not pretty today. But I digress.

Below you’ll find miscellaneous thoughts on the books I’ve read this month, as well as a quick overview of what I’ve written, some photos I took, and a few interesting pieces I enjoyed this month from other Substacks. As always, feel free to skip through the post at your leisure.

Quick note: this month’s edition will definitely be too long for email, so you’ll probably want to view it from the app or web browser.

Books I read:

The Masqueraders - Georgette Heyer (re-read)

Think Twelfth Night, sort of, but set in 1750’s England. Very predictable but none the less charming for it.

Anansi Boys - Neil Gaiman (re-read)

Honestly the closest story I have ever read to anything written by P. G. Wodehouse, but not actually written by him. Occasionally laugh-out-loud funny, too, in a kind of way one doesn’t usually associate with Neil Gaiman.

The creature laughed, scornfully. “I,” it said, “am frightened of nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” it said.

Charlie said, “Are you extremely frightened of nothing?”

“Absolutely terrified of it,” admitted the Dragon.

“You know,” said Charlie,” I have nothing in my pockets. Would you like to see it?”

“No,” said the Dragon, uncomfortably, “I most definitely would not.”

A Man for All Seasons - Robert Bolt (re-read)

Read this for a book discussion (& saw the film for the first time). Doing the Wolf Hall read-through, it’s interesting to get a look at the other side of the coin. Mantel’s More is stuck in his old ways - he calls Cromwell a man without principle because Cromwell’s principles are not his principles. But the novel is so closely wedded to Cromwell’s point of view that we cannot perfectly trust the depiction of any character.

Meanwhile Bolt’s More is a saint, and the play a hagiography. And if More is a saint, then Cromwell is the devil, the faithless, smiling politician without any real allegiance. Bolt’s Cromwell is villainous because he can be, whereas Mantel would have it that he is villainous because he must be - and really, in the end, he isn’t all that bad, only ill-served by history.

The Loved One - Evelyn Waugh (first time)

A very short novel that I’d never heard of until I came across it in a bookstore (I picked it up based about 40% on the fact that it was by Evelyn Waugh and 60% on the amazing cover by Quentin Blake). Satirical comedy along similar lines to Vile Bodies, only set in Hollywood and about the American funeral industry.

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle (re-read)

My mother let me borrow her copy of this when I was thirteen. The first thing I did, of course, after reading the first story, was to count how many steps there were going up to the second floor (Fourteen, if you’re interested).

It’s been a while since I re-read the full thing, complete with “The Engineer’s Thumb”, whose ghastly description of a severed digit once made me blanch, but I enjoyed reading it now as much as I did when I was thirteen. Although now I have a little more sympathy for Doctor Watson, who is settling down in life and gaining weight.

A Wizard of Earthsea - Ursula K. LeGuin (re-read)

My copy of this is annotated in ballpoint pen by a student who is trying very hard to understand the metaphors, especially the ones involving shadows and birds. It also has a very poorly printed map, so I have never properly understood the Earthsea geography, and the cover is positively lurid, but for all this I would never give it up, because it was my first copy.

A Gentleman in Moscow - Amor Towles (first time)

There are books that arrive at the perfect time for you to savour them, when a year ago they would have made you indifferent, or five years ago would not have appealed to you at all. This was such a book. And savour is the right word too - I have never read a book with such veneration for good food.

A Mind to Murder - P. D. James (re-read)

I encountered The Murder Room at fifteen and was, if not repelled, at least highly indifferent. During the second year of the pandemic I read all the Adam Dalgliesh novels through in order & enjoyed them generally. A Mind to Murder is great - James nails her style and her type of characters, recognisably human without recourse to overt stereotypes. I could not remember who committed the murder and was happy to find that each of my choices were, in the end, somewhat accurate.

Mexican Gothic - Silvia Moreno-Garcia (first time)

Not at all what I was expecting - in a good way. I felt the initial impatience I always have with Gothic novels (stop beating around the bush as if these people have good intentions and get on with it!) dissipate in favour of the atmosphere of the house. I had no idea what was going on and because of that was - when the moment came - just as horrified & worried as I was supposed to be. A masterful blend of genres.

Men at Arms - Terry Pratchett (re-read)

Sometimes it’s better to light a flamethrower than curse the darkness.

Things I wrote:

This month I published three poems, one short story, and a weird little piece of flash fiction.

I wrote this one back in 2022 and was surprised to find that it still worked really well. The story of Orpheus and Eurydice is a very old obsession of mine, so it’s definitely something I’ll be revisiting here.

This was a strange little thing I came up with based on a Flash Fiction Friday prompt from . I’m weirdly fond of it & considering expanding/toying with it further.

Things other people wrote:

SLAKE

Lacuna

Hello, The house is still, quiet, warm. Somewhere nearby, the cat sleeps. A low hum of traffic bleeds from the walls. This should be a time to relish, a time to sit rattling off words, giving in to the desire of the page. A time to stare at sentences containing the same words but arranged in a different order, my mouth not yet able to discern the subtle t…

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2 years ago · 52 likes · 64 comments · Nathan Slake

Amazing writing about not-writing.

Shalom Auslander's Fetal Position

Prayer Upon Arriving Again At The Writing Section Of The Local Bookstore

Dear Father in Heaven, God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, Who doth provide for His followers in their time of desperate need, let there be a new one. Let there be a New Release, oh Merciful God, a new book of invaluable writing advice, a book filled with never-before-revealed methods…

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2 years ago · 200 likes · 76 comments · Shalom Auslander

A poem about the eternal failure of books to tell you properly how Shakespeare Shakespeared.

The Heroine's Mirror

Nine Signs Your Smart Phone Is Actually a Ring of Power

It lets you disappear for a little while. It has become precious to you…

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2 years ago · 11 likes · 1 comment · Madeline

Makes you wonder…

Ancient Origins UNLEASHED

The Puzzling Horned Helmet of Henry VIII

Displayed prominently in the Royal Armouries Museum in Leeds, England, is the enigmatic horned helmet of Henry VIII, a relic that has captured the curiosity of scholars and visitors alike. Despite it…

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2 years ago · 45 likes

Fascinating - also incredible craftsmanship on display.

A Year of Bach

February 9: The Goldberg Variations (BWV 988); Vikingur Olafsson, piano

Years ago, I was sitting in a medical gown when my doctor introduced himself, looked at my chart, and said, ‘Ah, Mr. Goldfine, one of the Goldberg variations.’ It broke the ice with me, but would likely have left most of his patients puzzled. Did he know that I’d like his Borsht Belt schtick, or was he feeling anticipatory smugness that I might become c…

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2 years ago · 11 likes · 13 comments · Evan Goldfine

Great piece - also an amazing Substack. I’d been saving up this recording for a while & listened to it two weeks ago. It does not disappoint.

Pictures I took:

Song:

Vikingur Olafsson playing Bach, of course.

And that’s all for now. Thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

Hello everyone,

Welcome to the monthly review post! I thought several times perhaps this month I won’t write it, but a week ago I still found myself hitting the ‘new post’ button: for though I am an untidy person, I enjoy setting my thoughts in order. Feel free to peruse them at your leisure!

Books I read:

Paradise - Dante, trans. Dorothy L. Sayers/Barbara Reynolds (first time)

Pure intellectual ecstasy. I understand why most people don’t get past the Inferno, but I promise you it is worth it. Paradiso and Purgatorio are harder to read in that you need to pay strict attention to the arguments & rely much more heavily on the notes, but you can feel the mounting joy in each canto, all the way to the end.

American Gods - Neil Gaiman (re-read)

Low-Key Lyesmith. You know, it always fascinates me how long it took me to figure that out the first time. I cut my teeth on Norse mythology; you’d have thought I’d get it on my own, but no.

The Road - Cormac McCarthy (first time)

I finished the last 100 pages on the toilet, if that helps. It probably doesn’t really. Actually I think the problem is that I am so very definitely not the proper audience for this novel, which would be why I slogged through the whole thing, closed the book, and immediately put it on a shelf I need a stool to reach. I did not like it. However, I did reach the end, so that must mean something.

The Magician’s Nephew - C. S. Lewis (re-read)

I began this right after finishing The Road. Reading it I remembered how I used to draw the city of Charn, over and over, in all my sketchbooks - what was I? Ten, maybe. What surprised me was how much else I remembered: the dialogue, the descriptions, even the colours of the illustrations. I re-read it for a book discussion in conjunction with Piranesi (more on that later), but enjoyed it so much that I’ll probably re-read the rest of the series soon.

Rebecca - Daphne du Maurier (first time)

The narrator of this book makes Fanny Price look like a strong-minded, confident, assertive female, and that is all I will say, because if I said any more I would certainly get carried away.

The Daughter of Time - Josephine Tey (re-read)

The antidote to Richard III (recommended to me by a Ricardian, naturally). Possibly one of the strangest whodunits I’ve ever read, particularly in terms of subject, but obviously well-researched. By my count I’ve read it at least five times over the past three years. Splendid short read.

The Mysterious Affair at Styles - Agatha Christie (re-read)

What an idiot Hastings is. Aside from that very good. I had forgotten who did the murder, and did guess correctly, so was extremely pleased with myself.

The Secret History - Donna Tartt (first time)

I was informed this would be a bit of a slog but only the beginning was a bit slow, really. Once the momentum starts, it keeps up until the end, and the prose is fantastic. A mesmerising look into what it might be like if one studied the Ancient Greeks’ way of life and tried to apply it seriously.

Deep Secret - Diana Wynne Jones (re-read)

A very weird book. There are wizards — sort of — and centaurs, and then there’s a lot about Babylon, and a fantasy convention and a hotel which is definitely bigger on the inside, and some very ugly sweaters, and I’m not sure I understood the whole plot even on the second time round, but you know what, it was fun.

Piranesi - Susanna Clarke (re-read)

A friend of mine has a theory that one of the defining characteristics of Susanna Clarke’s writing is how interested she is in how people relate to the supernatural - to magic, in most cases. Nearly all her characters are defined by the way they react when faced with other worlds and strange beings. In Piranesi, Piranesi himself is devoted to the House, while other (more scientific types) wish to probe into it and extract its secrets. Like Uncle Andrew in The Magician’s Nephew, they desire only to strip the House of whatever value it has, in their eyes (very little) and use it to their own benefit. In Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, Mr. Norrell wishes to “make magic respectable”, stuffing it into boxes and rules, and then to reign alone as the sole magician in England, while Jonathan Strange is more interested in the wild, uncontrolled side of magic - deeply enough, however, to risk his own happiness.

I realise I’ve written another mini-essay on Piranesi. Ah well. It was an excellent discussion & sparked many ideas.

Here in Avalon - Tara Isabella Burton (first time)

Shades of Pamela Dean’s Tam Lin (the original ballad is referenced). Grapples with the question of whether we can have true beauty without lies, and without cost to those we love. Unexpected but very good.

The Railway Children - Edith Nesbit (re-read)

Pure nostalgia trip - only I’ve got a new copy, now, that isn’t falling apart, and my childhood one is lost to a Rubbermaid bin somewhere.

I am also taking part in the 2024 Wolf Crawl hosted by Simon Haisell, where we are reading Hilary Mantel’s Cromwell trilogy over the course of the year. If you haven’t heard of it, or have heard and are interested, I’d encourage you to check it out. The reading is about 40 pages a week, so it’s not taxing, and the comments section is crammed with interesting ideas. Here’s the introductory post:

Footnotes and Tangents

So now, read Wolf Hall with us!

Dear reader, Today’s letter is all about Wolf Hall, the Cromwell trilogy, and why I would like to invite you to join us for a slow read of these books in 2024. But my USP is to begin these letters with a creative tangent. So here is something I wrote long ago. A gentle pastiche of…

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2 years ago · 193 likes · 111 comments · Simon Haisell

Things I watched:

The Hollow Crown

Absolutely splendid, no idea why I’d been putting off watching this for so long. It also got me to finally finish reading through the Henriad plays, which I have been trying to do for too long.

The Grand Budapest Hotel

A friend told me years ago that I would like this, and I didn’t believe him. I’m sorry, friend. You were right. I shall now go and compose romantic verse on my mistake.

Things I wrote:

This month I published four poems and two fiction pieces.

I wrote a piece of flash fiction based on one of Scoot’s Friday prompts, which you can find linked in the post. It was the first time I’d tried one, and quite fun to do.

I also wrote another short story taking place in the Library of Time, and tried my hand at illustrating it.

Song:

This gives me chills every time I hear it, so it’s perfect for January.

Thanks for reading!

Iris Shaw

I had fun doing this last time - I love reading and writing short reviews - so I’m doing it again. There isn’t quite as much to go through this month (I was busy with work & then got that lovely cold everyone else seems to have picked up too), but I got some good seasonal reading in, so I’m quite happy.

Books I read:

Possession - A. S. Byatt (re-read)

This was much funnier the second time around. Her conception of academia is hilarious (the American professor who can’t keep his hands out of other people’s china cabinets, the Scottish scholar who’s been writing and erasing footnotes for the past 20 years), and the poetry is astounding. Hands down some of the best pastiches I’ve ever read. I’ve been meaning to read her Quartet novels for a while now; I’ll probably add them to the stacks for next year.

An Experiment in Criticism - C. S. Lewis (re-read)

Not, as far as I can tell, a very well-known book, which is a pity. Intelligent and generous, and worth reading the entire book for that last paragraph alone:

But in reading great literature I become a thousand men and yet remain myself. Like the night sky in the Greek poem, I see with a myriad eyes, but it is still I who see. Here, as in worship, in love, in moral action, and in knowing, I transcend myself, and am never more myself than when I do.

Assassin’s Apprentice - Robin Hobb (re-read)

I read this book for the first time about two years ago and put it down completely cold, a reaction that still mystifies me to this day. I picked it up again last winter and tore through the rest of this trilogy and the succeeding one in a month. The plot is never lost in settings or politics, and the characters are as complex and contradictory as any in a well-written novel (fantasy or not); each element in them is perfectly balanced, making the story neither convoluted nor simple. I can’t remember now what repelled me the first time, but I remember why I tore through them the second.

A Little Princess - Frances Hodgson Burnett (re-read)

I had not read this in years. Pleasant enough, but I always preferred The Secret Garden. Sara Crewe is too good to be true from the beginning, and while she does not annoy me now as much as she did when I was twelve, we are still not entirely on comfortable terms.

Descent Into Hell - Charles Williams (re-read)

As weird as I remembered, if a little more so. More comprehensible though, and I found it easier to become lost in the prose (which is really worth paying attention to) than the first time around, when I was just trying to figure out what on earth was going on. What most struck me this time was the horror element - that is in the case of one man slowly shutting himself off from the world, preferring to worship at his own altar, yet less and less able to recognise its emptiness the longer he is removed from the world. Cotton wool of the ego I suppose. Not something I’ll forget in a hurry.

The World Cannot Give - Tara Isabella Burton (first time)

Fairly quick read. Powerful writing about the need for holiness which can be made to serve many ends. The music angle was well done, which I appreciated.

Master and Commander - Patrick O’Brian (first time)

I did the thing that I am not supposed to do & saw the film first. Which was, I confess, easier to get through than the book. I am as clueless about sailing, let alone nineteenth-century ships, as it is possible to be. Nonetheless I did enjoy the book despite my confusion, though I was more interested in the tension between characters and less in what the ship itself was doing.

A Christmas Carol (re-read)

I read A Christmas Carol twice this month, first in an abridged version in a group read-through (I cannot recommend this enough; the excitement in the room was palpable. I got to narrate the final stave and had the time of my life) and then on Christmas Eve, as I do every year. I always look forward to the third stave, where Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Present are wandering the streets - it’s crammed with the enjoyment of the senses, with the taste and smell and touch of Christmas, so much so I cannot help smiling, thinking of it.

The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde (first time)

I was underwhelmed. The epigrams were distracting (but why here, I wonder? I suppose you expect them in a play, not in a novel, where incessant wit is a style). I found the prose turgid and tiresome. The story seemed to become more animated in the last ten pages, or at least my mental notes say so, but on reflection I can’t remember why I should have thought so. A few days later, everything but the most essential detail has left me.

The Dark is Rising - Susan Cooper (re-read)

Another Christmas read. I have always found this one vaguely unsatisfying, and have yet to find a definite reason why. It certainly shares a problem with the other books in the series, where everyone is made to forget, all the time, the things that have happened, and no one ever truly seems to change. Still, despite that, I am a little fond of it, and it does do a splendid job of evoking a strange, cold, white Christmas.

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? - Philip K. Dick (first time)

For the longest time I thought the title was Do Androids Dream of Electric Sleep? which I just had to stop myself from typing above, and which, if you haven’t read the book, makes about as much sense. I saw the film before reading the book, alas. Below are my main observations:

1.       There are a lot more sheep than there were in the film.

2.       Opera!

3.       Mozart!

4.       More electric animals.

5.       Sixties sex.

6.       A real toad! No, wait, it’s electric.

And so forth. I much preferred the book to the film. Bleak as hell though. The film spends a lot more time creating atmosphere than digging into the – philosophical underpinnings, I suppose you’d call them – of the book. Which in the end probably makes for a more appealing film, because the book, as I said, is Grim.

Things I watched:

The Sandman (Series 1)

Tends much more towards the dark fantasy side than the horror side of the original stories. Tom Sturridge was fantastic as Morpheus - completely believable even (or perhaps especially) when not speaking a word, as in the first episode where he had practically no lines. All in all, much better than I expected, and the score was wonderful.

Doctor Who

I usually watch an assortment of the Christmas Specials in December, ending with my three favourites:

1. The Husbands of River Song

   Not very Christmassy but a fantastic screwball comedy.

2. A Christmas Carol

   I am not much given to crying, but I do tear up every time Katherine Jenkins begins to sing In the Bleak Midwinter. Michael Gambon is also very good in this.

3. The Snowmen

   That spiral staircase in the sky. What can I say? Also I appreciate the change from murderous Christmas trees to murderous snowmen - makes for a bit of variety.

Pride and Prejudice (1995)

Absolutely splendid, as always. I love this version with an unqualified love and usually watch it every year at Christmas. I confess that I once fell asleep during the arrival of Mr. Collins at Longbourn and woke up during his proposal to Elizabeth, but I put that down to having just finished school for the term.

Things I wrote:

Again, I published three poems and a short story, in what is probably going to be my monthly routine for the next little while.

The short story takes place in the Library of Time. It was my second time writing a story to a self-imposed deadline (I gave myself a week), and I’m pretty happy with the result.

Song:

Of all the songs I listen to during this time of the year, this is the one that always says “Christmas” to me most clearly when I first hear it. Enjoy!

And lastly: Thank You!

I’m taking this opportunity to send a brief but heartfelt thank you to all my readers, subscribers, and lurkers. I’m grateful for each of you, and wish you all the best in the year ahead!

Alternatively, I thank you. I am not of many words, but I thank you.

See you next year!

Iris Shaw

This is something of an experiment for me. I’m not sending it out by email (as a proper post or anything) since I don’t know whether or not I intend to continue it. But I thought it might be interesting to make up a summary of what I’ve read and written and watched this month, in part as a sort of journal or memory aid. Think of it as a list with extras.

Books I read:

Bleak House (re-read)

I first thought of re-reading Bleak House when I came across this fascinating essay on Esther Summerson. I confess I used to be of the opinion that “Dickens couldn’t write women”, and am now something of a moderate, mellowed by age, but I shall never forgive him for Agnes Wickfield.

I’d forgotten just how apt the book’s title is - the story itself is a vast house of many different styles, farce and tragedy and mystery and legal drama. The characters are unmistakably Dickens’, but they are generally less vivid than those in, say, David Copperfield. I found this highly enjoyable, though, as it allows the setting and plot to gain some ground and not be entirely overshadowed by various personalities.

What else can I write? It’s a November novel, full of things and days that drag on and on, of sleet and rain and snow, long journeys in the cold, and vast, empty corridors. I remembered it less well than I thought, but I remembered how it felt to read it, as if you too felt the cold creeping in.

Can I just say it, though? I’m going to. Death by spontaneous combustion. All right, I’m done.

Beowulf (trans. Seamus Heaney) - re-read

My brother and I used to debate over who would win in a fight between Jaws and Grendel’s mother. Grendel’s mother always won, primarily I think because she could get out of the water and Jaws (hypothetically) couldn’t.

Why did we do this? I don't know. It made more sense at the time.

The Hound of the Baskervilles (re-read)

“He was running, Watson—running desperately, running for his life, running until he burst his heart—and fell dead upon his face.”

“Running from what?”

“There lies our problem….”

My first memory of reading this is on Christmas afternoon, balancing the Complete Sherlock Holmes on my lap while it rained outside, the light growing fainter and fainter until I could barely see the print. But I wasn’t there, I was on the moor, hearing the hound for the first time, watching clouds pass over the moon from the shadows of another house.

Funny, the things that stick with you.

The Name of the Rose (re-read)

My Latin is no longer good enough for this book, was the first thing I realised. But one can get along well enough with a dictionary for the most important bits.

Otherwise good, much shorter than I remembered. The destruction of the library made me just as sad the second time round though. I never can get over the loss of books in stories.

Still need to look up concupiscible/irascible appetites because I cannot for the life of me remember the difference and it’s going to take a while to figure out, at least from what I remember of Aquinas.

Hamnet (re-read)

Thanks to for the recommendation!

As the fabric runs through her fingers, as she puts each seam together, as she flaps out the creases in the air, her body remembers this task. It takes her back to the before. Folding his clothes, tending to them, breathing in his scent, she can almost persuade herself that he is still here, just about to get dressed, that he will walk through the door at any moment, asking, Where are my stockings, where is my shirt?, worrying about being late for the school bell.

Hamnet, pg. 289

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts,
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then have I reason to be fond of grief.

King John, III, iv

The Lantern Bearers (re-read)

One of the things that has always amazed me about Rosemary Sutcliffe’s writing is how vivid it is. Open one of her books and you can almost smell the atmosphere, or taste the weather. She wrote about dying worlds, mostly, things coming to an end, so I always find myself reading her when I first feel the cold coming in.

At the Mountains of Madness (first time)

I read this for a book discussion, and during slow periods at work, because I thought it was fairly short and wouldn’t require much commitment…. cut to me sitting on a five-gallon pail, glued to the page (not with alien slime, I feel it must be said) with my tea quickly growing cold…

I’ve never read Lovecraft before, so this may (or may not) be an accurate judgement, or it may be very obvious, but the most horrifying thing by far was not the unknowably ancient and decadent aliens, nor the gore, nor even the inability of the slime-creatures to speak except in the words of their abhorred and murdered creators. It was the unsettling-ness of the city, the nagging sense of evil which grew and grew, the slow acclimatisation of the characters to greater and greater horrors.

I doubt it will give me nightmares, but if I dream of it at all I will dream of that city.

Gaudy Night (re-read)

I was supposed to re-read Gaudy Night in November, but I finished my October list early and started this in the meantime. I loved Dorothy Sayers because I enjoyed Agatha Christie, and I loved P. D. James because, in particular, I loved Gaudy Night. It was the first detective story I ever read that set out to be a novel too, with complex characters, themes, and a vivid setting, as well as a classic detective story (with a crime, suspects, etc.). It was also the first book I read that seriously tackled what it means to be a scholar and spend one’s life at it, at a time when I believed that was what I wanted most. I chose otherwise and for other reasons than the difficult reconciliation of the head and heart, but I do come back to the book every once in a while and wonder whether it played any part in that decision.

“Do you find it easy to get drunk on words?”

“So easy that, to tell you the truth, I am seldom perfectly sober….”

Villette (first time)

I think this is probably better the second time round. I found it fairly entertaining, especially character-wise, and not by any means difficult to get through. I found in Lucy Snowe a quality not present in Jane Eyre (that I wished had been there), a coolness, stubbornness, a natural inclination not to be influenced unduly by others. Probably not everyone’s cup of tea but I enjoyed it. I’ll wait a couple of years, I think, and then read it again.

The Medieval Mind of C. S. Lewis (first time)

I came across this book in a review by Henry Oliver of The Common Reader (I’ve linked it here). It was, as he said, a marvelous book, and I found it particularly interesting when read at the same time as Piranesi (more on that below). It makes clear one of the most important facets of Lewis’ thinking; namely, that we should recapture the spirit of the Medieval world, without destroying the modern world we now inhabit - to regain the good we have lost without losing the good we have since gained. The best thing about the book is its clarity, of style (which Lewis himself was famous for), and of purpose. The theme is the mind of C. S. Lewis and the books that caused it to be so, and that is what you get, clearly and intelligently, in 165 pages.

Piranesi (re-read)

I had a vague idea that C. S. Lewis had influenced Clarke somehow from reading Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, but could not articulate it until I read Piranesi. The epigraph is from The Magician’s Nephew - and in some way the whole book is an articulation of an idea from The Magician’s Nephew. That is to say, what if there were other worlds, which contained reflections of the one we know as our own?

All around me doors into other worlds began appearing but I knew the one I wanted, the one into which everything forgotten flows. The edges of that door were frayed and worn by the passage of old ideas leaving this world.

I might have said, then, that Clarke’s House in Piranesi is a world of halls, of doorways giving on marvels. And like the World-Between-Worlds in the Magician’s Nephew, it is a kind world, but one that effaces all memory of life elsewhere.

When, however, I read the book this month, I was also reading The Medieval Mind of C. S. Lewis, where I found part of a passage from That Hideous Strength:

“No,” said the Director in a still louder voice, “that cannot be done any longer. The soul has gone out of the wood and water. Oh, I dare say you could awake them—a little. But it would not be enough…. If it were possible, it would be unlawful. Whatever of spirit may still linger in the earth has withdrawn fifteen hundred years further away from us since your time….”

And in Piranesi I read:

“Once, men and women were able to turn themselves into eagles and fly immense distances. They communed with rivers and mountains and received wisdom from them. They felt the turning of the stars inside their own minds. My contemporaries did not understand this. They were all enamoured with the idea of progress and believed that whatever was new must be superior to what was old. As if merit was a function of chronology! But it seemed to me that the wisdom of the ancients could not have simply vanished. Nothing simply vanishes. It’s not actually possible. I pictured it as a sort of energy flowing out of the world and I thought that this energy must be going somewhere. That was when I realised that there must be other places, other worlds….”

In both cases, something has left the world - the animation of things themselves, or else, as Clarke’s character Arne-Sayles imagines, the knowledge of how to speak to them. Something has gone out of the world.

Clarke takes the idea one step further than Lewis; these things have passed out of the world, into another and through that other - and they have left something behind. The statues of the House in Piranesi are Platonic forms of ideas, virtues, vices, and emotions in our world, and one is also Mr. Tumnus.

This is really turning into an essay, which I didn’t mean to do. I might write about this in longer form sometime. In short form, though, Piranesi made me appreciate The Magician’s Nephew a great deal more than I had done, and it is of itself a wonderful book which never grows stale in re-reading.

Things I watched:

Endeavour (most of Series 9) - first time

I don’t want this to end so I am artificially dragging it out by not watching the final episode even though the second one had a bit of a cliffhanger ending. Will be very sad when it’s over as it and the original Inspector Morse series are some of the only shows I’ve ever seen that use classical music intelligently. It’s sometimes very weird (I remember one episode finishing with the characters stalking a man-eating tiger through a hedge maze) and not all the episodes are of the same quality, but on the whole it is (was) a half-decent show.

Loki (most of Series 2) - first time

I am enjoying this a lot more than I thought I would, and some of it is surprisingly profound. I haven’t caught up with the Marvel spectacle/debacle properly in years but I think this show is probably the best to come out of it in a while.

The Godfather Parts I and II (re-watch)

During the book discussion I went to on At the Mountains of Madness, we talked about horror movies, and I had some Thoughts (namely could the first 2 Godfather films be classified as horror movies? Why/why not?). At the end of Part 2 Michael Corleone is left alone with this horrible self he’s created, that has lost him everything, and over the course of both movies you see him building it up. Definitely a tragedy. My thought is maybe it could be classified as psychological horror. Maybe I’m just sad after watching both of them in the same week?

Things I Wrote:

This month I published three poems, many of which have been hanging around in drafts for a while, but all of which I am very fond of (though the second is probably my favourite):

I also published a short fiction piece which takes place in The Library of Time, an invented world I am hoping to spend more time in next year:

Pictures I took on a walk:

Parting Poem:

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang

Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,

Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see'st the twilight of such day

As after sunset fadeth in the west,

Which by and by black night doth take away,

Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire

That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

As the death-bed whereon it must expire,

Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.

This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

Shakespeare, Sonnet 73

Song:

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