Journeying On

As I thought I might, I completed Ackroyd’s London on Sunday. There’s a marvelous quotation from Will Self which appears in the blurb, something on the lines of wanting to finish the book as quickly as possible so he can start to re-read it. I know just how he feels, but will resist the temptation to start dipping in, at least for the moment. I’ve got a lot of other books to get on with.

At the head of the list, and what I’m now reading, are Carole Hillenbrand’s The Crusades: Islamic Perspectives and Robert Fagles’s translation of The Odyssey. Embarrassingly these are both books I’ve started on before (my bookmark was at the three quarter mark of Hillenbrand’s history) but miserably failed to complete. In fact, I suspect I’ve actually mentioned both works, and my problems reading them, in this Place before. I’m pretty sure I’m going to complete both this week since the house is now empty, I haven’t got much to do in the way of work for work (if you see what I mean) and Noi is heroically determined to clean the house without my help, or getting in the way, as she puts it. But even then, I find I’m really having to push myself on The Crusades. It’s a fine book, beautifully illustrated by the way, but Hillenbrand doesn’t pretend to be an exciting writer, just a faithful historian presenting important research in a reasonably accessible manner.

However, I am well on my way in the journey of that most cunning man of twists and turns. What held me up initially was my lack of sympathy with Telemachus in the opening books. I resumed just when he was finishing things off with Menelaus, another dull dog, at least for this reader, and soon found myself with Calypso on her little island and it’s been steady sailing for me since then. I assume that Fagles’s translation is a brilliant one for two reasons. First of all, everybody says it is. Secondly, it’s fabulous to read. The English just sounds right somehow.

I also found time to read Pirandello’s Six Characters in Search of an Author on and after the weekend, in the translation by Eric Bentley. Again, I like the sound of the English so I’m inclined to think Bentley has done a good job. At times the dialogue sounds sort of prissily old-fashioned, but this seems to fit the context rather well. I found it easy to act out the play in my head as I went on. The play was another present from Karen actually, from about two birthdays ago, but I wasn’t in a rush to read as I know the piece quite well from years ago.

On this reading I was more struck by the emotional force of the drama than on previous occasions. The core suffering of the ‘characters’ lived for me in a way it’s never really done before, even when I’ve watched the play (on television, never, sadly, in the theatre.) Bentley mentions this (the emotional force) in his introduction, and I’m rather pleased I didn’t read this until I’d finished my reading of the play. It’s nice to have something about your reading confirmed independently. That way you don’t feel quite so alone on your journey, a major function of criticism, I suppose.