Dusting the Greats: The Blue Bicycle and Three Men in a Boat

Dusting the Greats is a blog-in-blog about literature. Unpacking crates of books – the books that made my generation what we are – I try to remember why they were important. Today: La Bicyclette Bleu and Three Men in a Boat.

Red cover of Blue Bike

Author: Régine Deforges
Title: La Bicyclette Bleu / The Blue Bicycle – which is pretty much a tale of shagging in the shadow of WW2
Language: Original French, I read it in Swedish
First Read: at 8 or 9, looting the parental shelf of “summer-reads”, which is a euphemism if ever there was one.
Number of times read: can’t count them. Funny thing is, I only ever read the 2 part of this reportedly 7 book series. Have no idea whether it would be improved or not by being put into context.
Influenced: My kissing technique. Having read about the great effects of hard kisses (at parting, at meeting again, in a rage, when reconciled, fearing for your life, hurrying into the night, and on the sly) I was dying to try them out on my first crush Martin, of jean-jacket and spaghetti-incident-on-tape fame. At a party – this back when cacti with sweets speared on the spikes was still ne plus ultra of hostess gifts – we were playing spin the bottle and I got my chance. The Bottle decided I was to KISS MARTIN ON THE MOUTH and I, blushing a hot crimson, decided to try my new move. Clamping my lips between my teeth, I set my jaw rigidly, and smashed my lower face into his. The effect wasn’t quite the leaping flame I had been led to expect, but rather some bruised and bloody lips on his part. Soon after, he started dating a 50 pound blonde little poppet of a girl, with very very soft and red lips. She was rumored to suck on crayons to get them that colour, but it was never proven… And I? I went back to the books. Turns out reading about passion is easier than inspiring it, at least when pre-pubescent.
Opinion today: Today I am flabbergasted at the author’s blatant theft of both plot and characters. This is the hugest rip-off from Gone With the Wind – except the dresses are different, and less slaves.
Shelf or Attic: Attic, I think. But if I ever have a daughter, it is coming back down. After all, can think of no surer way of keeping her out of mischief, than letting her learn the hardships of hard-kisses the hard way…

Not the Grand-Pa copy, but it'll do...

Author: Jerome K Jerome (Jerome Klapka Jerome. How about that.)
Title: Three Men in A Boat
Language: English
First Read: So far back I cannot even remember, this is what my Grandfather would read us when he baby-sat.
Number of times read: In its entirety, maybe twice. The funny parts? Oh, about once a week between the ages of four and 13.
Influenced: My grandfather had the pages with the funny parts written down on the fly-leaf. He’d sometimes try to read other bits, but my brother and I would protest immediately. So he’d consult his little list and flip directly to the one about putting up the tent, and the hanging of the picture, and the cheese on the train, and we’d be on the floor, listening, rapt and ready to laugh at what we knew were coming. Afterwards, we’d go in the kitchen and stir cocoa and sugar with cream for out morning hot chocolate. Our grandmother had measured out the ingredients, and put our mugs in the fridge, ready for breakfast. Then we went down to the twin beds where we slept, in the basement, and they’d come down and tuck us in. At this point, it was probably eight o clock at night, and we’d had the perfect evening.
Opinion today: Funny thing is, this is still funny. So funny I’ve even bothered to read some of his other titles, like for example Thought of an Idle Fellow, which isn’t as HA HA HA but still a pretty excellent little bit of writing. Also, every time I think I have cancer of the eyelids, a spell of H1N1 or am concerned about the shady coloring of my big toe I think of what would be likely to happen if I decided to take a holiday, and realize that it would probably make everything much, much worse…
Shelf or Attic: Definitely shelf. Or even nightstand.

Dusting the Greats: Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Bergdorf Blondes, Appassionata

Dusting the Greats is a blog-in-blog about literature. Unpacking crates of books – the books that made my generation what we are – I try to remember why they were important. Today: Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Bergdorf Blondes and Appassionata.

I have been briefly deterred from unpacking any more books, through the buying and devouring in fevered daze of Wolf Hall, by that author who got that award the other day. Forgive my forgetting, but the author and the prize are of no importance, when you consider the ABSOLUTE greatness of the writing itself.

I have been scrunched up on the sofa for days, the deeply uncomfortable and lumpy sofa, forgetful of the sofa still, peering at the text through glasses that could increasingly use a good clean – occasionally barking out orders for more crisps and cappuccino ice-cream to be brought into the Presence of the Book.

Anyhoodle, after that bout of the Cromwells, I thought it was time to wash the aforementioned crips and cream from my body, and thoughts of purgatory from my mind. For this I needed not only a bathtub, but also one of those books that go in the bath. (Puritans and Henry VIII, you definitely want to keep out of there). I plan to have a special shelf for these bath-books in our new apartment. The basic requirements are:

- there must be descriptions of clothes, which you may as you soak, imagine you would fit into once you get out of the tub
- there must be love and sex, in an approx 20-80 ratio, which you may as you soak, imagine would be yours if ever you exited the tub
- some sort of plot – I am not a stickler for this – but authors seem to pride them selves on putting one in there. Expect murder, slander, backstabbing and/or alcoholic foolery dispersed between the gowns and the nudes.

Alas, I dove into the bags and boxes and came out with three contenders for the “Books, Bath, and Beyond” shelf. They are:

Words are half the price of diamonds

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author: Truman Capote
Title: Breakfast at Tiffany’s
Language: English
First Read: 12, at Christmas, just prior to taking up smoking and brittle laughs
Number of times read: 6, consecutive, with pauses for posing in the mirror and feeling inadequate
Influenced: Never having seen the movie, I got to make all the pictures in my own mind. And what pictures they were! For the longest time, I imagined that for a girl to be truly loved, she need be whip-thin, aloof, high as a kite and in possession of a cat weighing more than she. Actually, nothing as disabused me of this notion yet.
Opinion today: Arriving at the doorstep of actual Tiffany’s – 15 years later – was a huge let-down. It felt like someplace my grandmother would go – were she in to jewels instead of gardening. Frumpy, dumpy, if sparkly. However the Holly of my mind stays young, and wrapped in fox-furs. Those damn furs, they make me look boxy.
Shelf or Attic: Shelf. But cigarettes, I have quit for real.

Blondes eat more prunes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author: Plum Sykes
Title: Bergdorf Blondes
Language: English
First Read: 26, and even at that age it made me bleach my hair. Disaster
Number of times read: Never again, I can’t trust it close to a bottle of peroxide
Influenced: An agonising period of trying to get back normal hair, mousy brown though it may be. Also, I think it had me on an all liquid diet for a day or two, but this was more from looking at the picture of Plum herself than from the actual reading.
Opinion today: Has it or has it not been replaced by the devil wears prada ugly betty the moment gossip girl entire world of fashion blogs including that girl from texas? Well, kinda. And when I read those blogs, I can pretend to my boss that I am doing Important Reseach on Impact of Social Media.
Shelf or Attic: Shaftic – that is, I am undecided. I guess it should be packed away, but I may need that picture of Plum to ward of the evils of cheese and wine with boyfriend who loves me just the way I am…

There's a pun about bow-legged here somewhere, but I can't bring myself to it

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author: Jilly Cooper
Title: Appassionata
Language: English
First Read: 23, and that was when I first realised the glory of staying in reading about far-fetched sexual antics, instead of being out at clubs trying to re-enact them.
Number of times read: I suppose there was a time or a dozen I went back. But just for laughs, mind.
Influenced: If you haven’t broken up with a boyfriend because trashy books have given you an inflated view of what sex should be, you haven’t really lived.
Opinion today: I couldn’t say without a re-read. And as not to leave you wondering, I shall get on that right this minute…
Shelf or Attic: Attic, if for no other reason than that I actually rather like my current boyfriend. Long-haired Celtic horn players cannot bring you the satisfaction that a long-term relationship gives you. They are made of paper you see, and cannot be trained to heat chicken soup.

Dusting the Greats: Donna Tartt Secret History

Dusting the Greats is a blog-in-blog about literature. Unpacking crates of books – the books that made my generation what we are – I try to remember why they were important. Today: Donna Tartt’s Secret History.

Four years ago I put down Ulysses having stated that, it does, indeed, end in a full stop. Then I carried it, along with my other pretensions, into the attic. I barred the attic door with five different locks. I hid the keys well. I left town. And I did not look back.

An infinite number of chick-lit, bit-lit, frock-fic and Vouge later, this weekend saw the resurrection of my past life. 90 plus boxes and bags of Literature have been moved from their dusty confines to the floor, table, bathroom and kitchen sink of my present abode. There they will get a good cleaning, before being installed in the pristine shelves of The New Apartment.

Or so I thought.

Last night, after 48 hours of uncomplaining and tender lugging, carrying and lumbering, the Better Man sat me down with a calculator and a scale sketch of The New Apartement. Apparently, it was time for a reality check. If I were to have all my books up, and he all his, we would be left with a negative amount of space for anything else.

So, cutting a long story short: join me as I sort trough the Greats and the Pretentious, the Influential and the Hardly Recognized, the Speckled with Damp and the Smudged With Chocolate.

First out:

Author: Donna Tartt.
Title: The Secret History.
Language: Swedish.
First Read: 1995 on holiday in Greece
Number of times read: Astronomical, mostly in bath or while treating parents with contempt
It influenced: Choice of major, choice of cigarettes, entire sense of self between ages of 14 and 18
Opinion today: Naïve, over-laden, but sweet, like memory of childhood birthday cake
Shelf or Attic: Shelf on strenght of time served.

The Book Taped and Battered