April, 2001 Monthly Feature : Each month I have been putting together some of my favourites to share with you. Archives

Unto my books

[Everywhere I have sought rest and found it not except sitting apart in a nook with a little book.

Thomas Kempis ]

What a luxurious feeling it is to see an entire rainy day through with a good book, a warm blanket, and a few thick, sweet pots of tea (especially if the cats will be still and keep my feet warm as they are supposed to do). Even when I have a stack of brand-new books eagerly waiting to be read, I find my comfort with old friends. Sometimes as silly as a children's series I read when I was eleven (or 33, if Harry Potter counts), other times books that aren't particularly good, but relate to some place or time in my life (a terribly cheap novel set in the town I grew up with), and then too are the classics sometimes the soft cushion a tired body longs to sink into (how long has it been since you've visited with Jane Austen?). Anne Frank said "If I read a book that impresses me, I have to take myself firmly in hand before I mix with other people; otherwise they would think my mind rather queer" which perfectly describes some of my favourite books. How disconcerting to be brought back into the 21st century by a phone ringing or a knock on the door after immersing myself for several hours in the strange and wondrous world of The Mists of Avalon. How mundane normal dinner conversation seems after a day spent with John Fowles. Thank goodness for April showers :-)

K.M.G.

Featured Artist: Jean Honoré Fragonard
A Young Girl Reading.
Featured Poet: Emily Dickinson
Unto my books so good to turn
Featured Composer: Johann Sebastian Bach
Suite No.3 in D Major: Second Movement (Air) 1
Consort of London (3.75 MB).

A Young Girl Reading by Jean Honoré Fragonard

Unto my books so good to turn
Far ends of tired days;
It half endears the abstinence,
And pain is missed in praise.

As flavors cheer retarded guests
With banquetings to be,
So spices stimulate the time
Till my small library.

It may be wilderness without,
Far feet of failing men,
But holiday excludes the night,
And it is bells within.

I thank these kinsmen of the shelf;
Their countenances bland
Enamour in prospective,
And satisfy, obtained.

Emily Dickinson

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March, 2001