Books always make great gifts

Here is Christmas time again, the holiday gift-giving season par excellence. And if all of us always strive for the best and most special present for our nearest and dearest, why not a book this year? A print book, I mean.

Electronic books could also work, but the emotional connection is greater with paper ones. In fact, we usually keep good memories of each single book we have in our home libraries: where and when we got them, who bought them to us... Besides, isn´t it a really depressing image seeing us more and more pushed towards a screen all the time? Wherever we look nowadays, we see everybody attached to their smartphones and digital devices, obsessed with downloading the latest mobile apps or snapping selfies, for instance. 

Books are affordable, they last a lifetime and they can provide hours of emotions, whatever the reader´s age. There are lots of must-reads in the market (and not necessarily the bestsellers of the moment; on the contrary, I´d be ashamed of getting some of these!), ranging from ageless classics to contemporary ones.

Books fire the children´s imagination and they also broaden the teens´ minds. Helping them to understand and deal with this increasingly complex world, they are essential for their growth and development process. But in today´s digital environment, where most of them would rather play a video game or surf the net chatting with friends or updating their Facebook profile, getting them to read may be a challenge. Their love of words and stories can be fostered introducing them to books that match their interests and hobbies. Once they discover they can travel through time, back and forth, with both historical and science fiction or they can become an expert on that subject they are mad about, books will become allies in their pursuit of adventure and learning. Furthermore, they will also realise that any dream can come true within the pages of a book. Can you imagine a more wonderful present than a world of dreams wrapped in pretty colourful paper?

Happy Christmas and happy readings!

The act of reading according to Doris Lessing

"There is only one way to read, which is to browse in libraries and bookshops, picking up books that attract you, reading only those, dropping them when they bore you, skipping the parts that drag-and never, never reading anything because you feel you ought, or because it is part of a trend or a movement. Remember that the book which bores you when you are twenty or thirty will open doors for you when you are forty or fifty-and vise versa. Don’t read a book out of its right time for you.”     (The Golden Notebook, 1962) 

 Doris Lessing, another Nobel Prize for Literature who has just passed away...  The image of her, sitting on her doorstep in London, surrounded by the journalists who had just communicated her the news when coming back from grocery shopping is now a legend. The Swedish Academy had phoned her home a few hours earlier, but she wasn´t in ("Oh! Christ! ... I couldn´t care less", she said to them).  Something which also said a lot of her character was the fact of having turned down the offer of becoming Dame of the British Empire because "a British Empire no longer exists". However, there was no problem in accepting the Prince of Asturias Award in Literature.

In her novels and short stories, she explored a great variety of topics ranging from the mystery of being female in a male-dominated world or the degradation of the educative systems nowadays to racism in British colonial Africa or her disillusionment with communism.

Doris Lessing was one of the most vividly representative literary figures of our times, and she will be best remembered for her semiautobiographical Children of Violence and the experimental The Golden Notebook. Many readers will sorrow the loss of her courageous outspokenness, her intellectual restlessness and fierce curiosity about the changing world around us.

Seamus Heaney, Dante and Asturias

Seamus Heaney, who was born Catholic in a predominantly Protestant Northern Ireland, never forgot the world where he came from. He was intensely aware of the often violent political and religious struggles that plagued his country and the unrest and oppression it entailed. At the same time, his roots and poetry lay deep and were grounded in that Irish rural countryside. 

The Little Canticles of Asturias is a beautiful tribute to a region he loved and used to visit because one of his sisters-in-law lived here. Besides, Asturian landscape lovingly evoked his homeland. This work is also a version of The Divine Comedy, the well-known 14th c. epic poem where Dante describes his journeys through Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, an allegory of the soul´s pilgrimage towards God. Like the Italian genius, Heaney looks into human experience trying to explain the mystery of our own identity. 

All along three stanzas, he renders a splendid account of a drive in Asturias. In the first one, it is midnight, they are driving through an industrial area among furnaces and hot refineries and they curse the hellish roads. (And then at midnight as we started to descend / into the burning valley of Gijón, / .../ for we almost panicked there in the epic blaze / of those furnaces and hot refineries / ... / and gathered speed and cursed the hellish roads.). 

In the second canticle, during the purgatorial next morning, the farmers who are working in the fields on both sides of the road wave at him. Their rural labour brings him memories of his childhood in Ireland. (Next morning on the way to Piedras Blancas / I felt like a soul being prayed for, / ...). In the third and last stanza, he arrives at a paradise of rivers under sunlight. (At San Juan de la Arena / it was a bright day of the body. / Two rivers flowed together under sunlight. / ...). The final words (of distant Compostela, stela, stela) emulate the Italian stelle which also finish the three canticles of Dante´s masterpiece.

Seamus Heaney, Nobel Prize in 1995, and one of the most productive, lauded and beloved of the living poets, has passed away. Ireland, Asturias and the whole world mourn his death. Life is ephemeral, we know,  but let's remember poetry is not. Cherished and celebrated, his verses will remain forever.

Pilgrimages and literature

When Chaucer wrote The Canterbury Tales at the end of the 14th century, pilgrimages to shrines like St. Peter´s at  Rome, St. James the Greater´s at Compostela or St. Thomas Becket´s at Canterbury were very popular. Pilgrims, who used to go in company for protection, had a wide variety of purposes: to venerate a saint, to do penance for sin or to be healed of some sickness.

In Chaucer´s masterpiece, a group of them meet at an inn as the starting point and, on their way to the cathedral of Canterbury, they engage in a tale telling contest. The landlord has offered a free dinner for the best story. The tales, mere entertainment for a hard journey, turn out to be a remarkable anthology in Middle English of medieval literature: courtly romance, saints´ legends, sermons, fabliaux, beast fables...

On my recent "Camino", Way of Saint James, there have also been moments for stories and literature. Since every single item in my rucksack had to be weighed (travel light was a must!), I could only afford to take one paperback with me. After hours and hours of often silent walking every day, there was always some time for sitting and reading in the youth hostels or engaging in enriching talk with other pilgrims. Camaraderie and fellowship made it possible to exchange anecdotes and personal stories, other books or anything you might need.

More than purposes or goals set before starting the "Camino", I can write about the rewards gained during this life-affirming, physically challenging and fulfilling experience. Each completed day built on everybody´s self-confidence. For me, it has also turned out to be a journey of inner peace and faith in myself.   

Waiting for Godot, by Samuel Beckett

"Life is a chaos between two silences", said Samuel Beckett. The Irish playwright was only sure of two things: he had been born and he had to die. He left Dublin and travelled to Paris with the obsession of meeting James Joyce. He joined the novelist´s literary circle there and became his assistant. But Lucia, Joyce´s schizophrenic daughter, fell in love with him and his refusal of her caused Ulysses´s author to ban him from his home.

Nobel Prize for Literature in 1969, Beckett is one of the great names of the Theatre of the Absurd. First written in French, Waiting for Godot is a metaphor of the absurdity of human existence, of man´s loneliness and boredom and of the deseperate search for meaning in life. Throughout the play, and while they are waiting for Godot, the main characters, two tramps, try to fill in the empty time on an eternal Saturday which follows Good Friday but which never becomes Easter Sunday. Very little 

happens, life is meaningless. Like them, we also spend much of our time waiting constantly for something new to happen so that our life has sense. Their incoherent dialogue dramatically shows our failure to communicate. Literary critics have wondered who this Godot is, someone who seems to be on the point of arriving but who never does so. Beckett used to say that if he had had the answer, he would have written it.

One day, Beckett was flying to Paris when the chief flight attendant said: "I´m speaking in Captain Godot´s name..." Immediately, he wanted to jump out of the plane up in the air.

The Little Prince

Sometimes I look around and see nothing but foolishness and nonsense. 

Mankind, too worried with power, wealth and technology, seems to have forgotten about the importance of sincere friendship and true love. Most people don´t even realise that "to forget a friend is sad. No every one has ever had a friend." 

A great deal of grown-ups, full of prejudices and misjudgements, are not sensitive to the poetry, mystery and beauty of the world. They are dull, unimaginative, ignorant and blind to the simple things that matter. They don´t even know that "the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart."

Sometimes it seems to me that adults, so narrow-minded and absurd, are constantly rushing and stubbornly keeping on mindless pursuits, but at the end "no one is ever satisfied where he is." 

I´ve just finished rereading Antoine de St. Exupéry´s masterpiece (so proud to have been able to do it in French this time!) and, again, it has left me reflecting about the sense of life...

Sometimes, like The Little Prince, I am also bewildered by what I see and experience every day. Like him, I go on my quest for understanding the meaning of this strange world. And meanwhile, I continue gazing at the stars...

The Great Gatsby

So much violence and the nonsense of World War I left Americans in such a state of shock that those who could afford it turned to a wild life of excess to compensate. The unprecedented levels of prosperity of the nation enabled F. Scott Fitzgerald and his wife Zelda, icons of the Roaring Twenties, to live extravagantly staying out late and drinking heavily in continuous lavish parties. The couple, who idolized wealth and luxury, was really fascinated by the very rich and all their magic. Their sprees continued in Paris, so full of youthful idealism, where they soon became part of a celebrated circle of American expatriates. 

But F. Scott Fitzgerald could also see through all that glitter of the Jazz Age, discovering the moral emptiness and hypocresy beneath this pointless pursuit of pleasure. The Great Gatsby is the tragic hero, solely faithful to a dream. All the wealth he has been able to achieve has only one aim; to recover his former love Daisy. But the mistake is to try to recapture the past and carry it into the future. His spiritual quest, in a materialistic society,  is to be defeated by selfishness and indifference.

The story represents the disintegration of the American Dream and those times of economic growth and loss of moral values should sound familiar to us. They turned out to be a warning sign of harder times to come. 

Shakespeare & Company Bookshop in Paris

"On a cold windswept street, this was a warm, cheerful place with a big stove in winter, tables and shelves of books in the window, and photographs of famous writers both dead and living. The photographs all looked like snapshots and even the dead writers looked as though they had really been alive"

                                                                   Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast

These lines depict Sylvia Beach´s Shakespeare & Company Bookshop, a haven for all English speaking writers in Paris during the interwar period and a gathering place for regulars like Hemingway, Ezra Pound, Scott Fitzgerald or James Joyce. With the German occupation of the city it was closed down, but a few years later, an American bohemian, George Whitman, would open another bookstore with the same name and the same ideals. It continued to be a free boarding house for aspiring and penniless writers and the new owner went on playing host to well known authors like Nobel Prize winner Samuel Beckett or the Beat poets W. Burroughs and A. Gingsberg. Whitman´s daughter runs it today, still managing to hold on its original principles.

I´ve recently visited it for the first time and I can assure you it´s worth it: on the floor, piles of second-hand books stacked there because there is no room left on the ancient wooden bookshelves; on the walls, old photos, drawings and newspaper cuttings yellowed by the years; an old typewriter, a piano waiting to be played, worn-out velvet armchairs for sitting and reading... An incredible place to hang out for those instilled with a deep and passionate respect for literature.

Take note! Facing Notre Dame Cathedral, on the left bank of the river Seine... It had to be situated in the legendary literary Latin Quarter..