Summer Stars runs from Tues 4 June to Sat 31 August. Get Reading! Now that school is over you can still spark your imagination, join in activities and take part in our exciting Summer Stars challenge.
End Times: Elites, Counter-Elites and the Path of Political Disintegration by Peter Turchin
By some estimates, 49% of the world’s adult population is due to vote in elections in 2024 and what better way to begin the year than with Turchin’s brilliant book about how much trouble some of these same societies are in.
“ Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me”
So begins this dark, suspenseful novel. From the beginning we are drawn through the iron gates of Manderley and down the drive towards this great house. We accompany the young heroine who is never given a name other than the second Mrs De Winter. Through her eyes we see the world of the first Mrs De Winter, the beautiful and accomplished Rebecca.
Welcome to the thirteenth entry of our blog series 'Lost in the Stacks' - with recommendations by Dublin City Libraries staff. This one was submitted by Brian from the Relief Panel/Home Delivery Service for Cocooners. In his introduction to Donald Barthelme’s ˈSixty Storiesˈ, David Gates reports that Barthelme once described the typical short story as being ‘constructed mousetrap-like to supply, at the finish, a tiny insight typically having to do with innocence violated’.I feel my gobsmackedness at the twist in many stories I have so enjoyed being mocked by this comment but maybe having written the most audaciously brilliant and hilarious short story ever - ˈSome Of Us Had Been Threatening Our Friend Colbyˈ (from ˈForty Storiesˈ) – Barthelme could feel entitled to have a pot-shot at whatever and whoever he likes.This gets me thinking about what (along with an insightful twist ?!!) makes for a good short story and as soon as I do this I’m sorry I started. On re-reading ˈThe Penthouse Apartmentˈ, my favourite story by William Trevor, I note a twist of sorts triumphally heralded by the line ‘“You had trouble with the pipes,” said Mr Morgan’. The said Morgan is a hammy storyteller when compared to the deft and subtle Trevor. We realise, in retrospect, that a throw-away early comment – ‘…animals, within reason, were permitted’ – contains such portent. Truth eludes Miss Winton’s ‘…great mound of words…’. Her reasonableness, with the rally cry ‘“I am trying to promote understanding”’ is dashed on the twin rocks of Morgan’s resentment and the Runcas’ philosophy ‘…that efficiency and a stern outlook were good weapons in the business of accumulating wealth’. This little ˈslice of lifeˈ contains a microcosm of societal strata and stresses but perhaps more striking and Trevoresque is the start-to-finish, slow-burn ˈsinister of the ordinaryˈ (also funny, in the drollest and darkest senses of course). A special ingredient of this is Trevor’s purveyance of drunken conversation, entwining and descending into nonsense but perhaps more scary for its retention of some sense. For me with William Trevor to adore the writing is to adore the man.On re-reading ˈThe Love Of A Good Womanˈ, my favourite story by Alice Munro, let’s agree for starters to forget about twists. This story is about strange goings-on in a town called Walley (ok, I’m out of my depth here). It is perhaps more ˈslices of lifeˈ than ˈslice of lifeˈ and yet the slices are linked and more to the point it has that element of encapsulation essential to a short story, albeit a long one. We begin with an elegiac depiction of a vanishing world where each role is precisely, unambiguously and unsparingly delineated, typified by the following:- ‘Most members of that company were between nine and twelve years old, too old to be bound by yards and neighborhoods but too young to have jobs – even jobs sweeping the sidewalk in front of stores or delivering groceries by bicycle’. How from here do we descend (down we go again) incrementally into a miasma of ambivalence? Go figure why Enid gives up her nurse’s training and still ends up nursing. Then consider the likes of the following:- ‘Lies…could be waiting around in the corners of a person’s mind, hanging like bats in the corners, waiting to take advantage of any kind of darkness. You can never say, Nobody could make that up. Look how elaborate dreams are, layer over layer in them, so that the part you can remember and put into words is just the bit you can scratch off the top’. And as Munroesque as ambivalence, behold that most intangible and terrifying of feminine qualities – emotional intelligence. This story is divided into four sections, each one sub-titled for the readers’ convenience. The first is my favourite, where Munro uncannily inhabits the hearts and minds of a trio of boys in the aforementioned 9 to 12-yr-old bracket, but in truth this whole story is a miracle of the uncanny. In the extremely unlikely event that, at this late stage of my efforts, I attain adulthood, perhaps I might even earn the right to bathe fully in the balming (if roiling) waters of Alice Munro’s stories.
Liz Buckley here reviews If Walls Could Talk; An Intimate History of the Home by Lucy Worsley, available as an eBook from Borrowbox. If on loan, you can reserve a copy.I read this book at the start of the Corona virus pandemic in Ireland. I was really fascinated to learn of the dire consequences that ignorance, myth and misinformation had on world health down through the ages. Poor sanitation in the home and at local level was behind several pandemics throughout history and the spread of germs from person to person or animal to person is an ongoing battle and often misunderstood.If Walls Could Talk; An Intimate History of the Home by Lucy Worsley reflects how the basic practices of hygiene good or bad have always meant life or death for the individual. The saddest place and most rife of germs and disease was at local level and the author’s portrayal of the birthing bed proves the risky business of childbirth and accounts for the outrageous death rate of mother and child over time.The author demonstrates the dark subject of infection and disease very well throughout her book. Worsley is an outstanding historian with an eye for detail and a gifted storyteller who can draw the reader in. The book is colourful with many excellent illustrations and her wry sense of humour make what is essentially a history lesson, uniquely entertaining.Some may think the subject matter “heavy duty” but the book is successful in that it manages to prevail as a light-hearted and humorous look at the history of the home, comparing Tudor, Georgian, Victorian, and homes of the present day. She captivates life from both ends of the spectrum describing the homes of the rich and the lives of the people who worked in them. She explores societal changes in behaviour through the prism view of a functioning household and she often chooses the Big House to begin with, and then introduces the reader to the lives of the servants.The history of the bedroom and bathroom or privy is explored with hilarious revelations as lots of people pass through for all kind of reasons other than sleep, sex or simply to do one’s business and compares public forwardness to today’s great and urgent call for privacy. Toilets and toilet roll, nickers and drawers, house fashions and utensils are examined to give the reader a real feel of the era and you can share some of the bygone practices with younger members of your family who will be astounded and unbelieving. I thoroughly enjoyed this book and if you have seen the BBC series of the same title you will hear the quirky voice of the author as you read and appreciate her wry yet factual account of how we lived in times gone by.