Category: Media
The North
22nd January 2014 Having been tempted by a recommendation from Simon Armitage (Yorkshire poet and author of Walking Home) on the cover of the hardback edition in a bookshop, I got a digital copy of Paul Morley's The North and set to making my way through it. Anyone seeking something with a linear narrative will not find it here yet it lets one on a lot of the spirit of northern England in its own inimitable way. The mixture of memoir, digressions and side notes takes some acclimatisation and I found the sense of repetition in the book's early stages a little frustrating in that it felt as if not much progress was being made. Maybe that was because of the description of a young mind's developing consciousness and sense of place and belonging to there. Later on, things grew more linear when it came to telling of how Morley worked out his place in the world and what trade was to allow him to pay his way in it.
Interspersed between these, there is a reverse chronology of notable events in the north of England, especially when those relating to the development of the place and those who come from there. These include politics, industry and the better known folk associated with these. The interjections complemented any explorations of the conceptualisation of what it meant to be northern English and how the north of England came to be how it is in the main text.
Because I read the book in fits and starts before longer journeys allowed me to spend more time with it and grow accustomed to its eccentricities, a few months elapsed before I finished it during that trip to Edinburgh a few weeks ago. The non-linearity of the narrative meant that that it took some work before I got used to it and the fact that I was reading it on my Nexus 7 made me wish for hardback so that I could see more progress (one came into my possession later so I can dip in and out of it during free moments at home). However, it was the electronic gadget that ensured that the book was with me when I could make time to read it, a common failing of mine when it comes to paper editions of books. Apparently, the inspiration for the book's structure came from The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman and it was the familiarity of many of the places described within its pages that drew me along while filling me in on a lot of details that I otherwise would have missed. For one thing, I never realised how fluid the Cheshire-Lancashire county boundary has been over the centuries and there was but a single lesson found in those pages.
After the effort of working through The North, it's time for a more leisurely read and Ramble On by Sinclair McKay is just that. The story of how recreational walking became what it is for so many of us today may be somewhat familiar to me but there always are other insights and these are to be found here too. Still, I am tempted to sample Tristram Shandy to see just how contorted its narrative is and test how it inspired the flow of The North. For now though, that can wait because it is best to take things easy while life's events allow you to do so.
Why not a thousand?
16th October 2013 It seems that September is a time for releasing books and showing new documentaries on television. At it has felt that way with what I have seen in branches of Waterstones and on the BBC. The latter's iPlayer has made me aware of the television efforts of Paul Murton with his Grand Tours of the Scottish Islands still on BBC 1 in Scotland and three previous series of Grand Tours of Scotland. The viewing is undemanding and Scotland's scenery is the real star. Just like the country itself, the television series features a real variety ranging from inland islands on Loch Lomond to Lismore, Colonsay and Oronsay on Scotland's western seaboard. It's been a while since I explored and offshore Scottish island so revisiting their delights sounds like a plan to have in hand give the pleasures that I have met on them on previous trips.
Returning to the topic of books, it may be the looming end of the year and the lengthening of nights but there was an explosion in book launches last month. While my yearling Google Nexus 7 spends part of its life as an eBook reader and that has made sure that some more fleeting volumes actually do get read and not just collected, there remains a certain something about the traditional paper book than has been with us for hundreds of years. The packaging is part of the appeal and probably will ensure that at least some of us stick with them in preference to the lure of electronic gadgets. It seems that publishers have improved on presentation exactly when it was needed but there is one thing about the dead tree tome that I haven't found as easy to do with an eBook: dip in and out of the pages out of sequence as and when the mood takes you.
Both attributes certainly apply to Simon Jenkins' latest offering: England's 100 Best Views. This almost is the sort of book to have on a nearby shelf for spontaneous perusal of some random page in there. The same approach probably applies to predecessor tomes from the same author like England's Thousand Best Churches, England's Thousand Best Houses or Wales: Churches, Houses, Castles. Extending the analogy further, you even could apply this thinking to any walking guide that you care to have in your possession. Maybe, that added randomness could spice up route planning more than checking out the route pages of a walking magazine.
England's 100 Best Views does betray its associations with the National Trust, of which Jenkins is its chairman, as it seems that there seems to be some element of man's presence in any selected view so as a grand house or another equivalent focal point. In Britain and Ireland, it is hard to avoid human influence on a landscape but it seems even harder in England though featuring buildings pretty well makes this most obvious. Landscapes completely manufactured by man hardly are excluded either though the author is not a fan of such modern intrusions as wind farms, car parks and the wiring needed all over the place for modern living.
However, the National Trust was set up to conserve countryside and not the sort of old country houses of which it is custodian all over England and Wales. That only happened around the time of World War II and its role was sealed by the Office of Works (now English Heritage) being dissuaded from engaging in the same kind of thing by the government of the day in another time of austerity. It can be odd how things go with organisations at times.
There are landscape views without sizeable buildings in them too. The coastline of the south-west of England is an obvious example as is the Lake District. With his other books, it is surprising that Jenkins didn't try for a thousand views because they have to be out there. After Cheshire just has one entry - Peckforton Castle & Beeston Castle atop neighbouring sandstone outcrops in the west of the county - and gets into the West Midlands section for some reason. Quite why it is excluded from that devoted to the English Northwest is beyond me and there are plenty of other sights that could be added. A number from between Macclesfield and Buxton come to mind: looking towards Shutlingsloe from Tegg's Nose and looking north while descending from Shining Tor to Lamaload Reservoir are just two. Thinking about it now, views over reservoirs may not be amenable to Jenkins but it does highlight that there are so many alternatives from from which to choose. Of course, doing justice to each of them may have lead to cutting down the number so as to give descriptions of the chosen few more room to breathe. There are times when your cloth has to be cut according to your measure and so it seems with England's 100 Best Views. Any new viewpoints are to be celebrated and there always are more than a few to be found in a book like this; just like the aforementioned television series, it too does not disappoint.
Secrets of the Irish Landscape
15th October 2013 During May of this year, the Republic of Ireland's national broadcaster RTÉ ran a three part documentary series called Secrets of the Irish Landscape. The documentary series tells the story of the Irish landscape and is built around the work of Robert Lloyd Praeger that started a hundred years ago. His 1937 book, The Way That I Went, contributed to the inspiration for the series. With all of the references to this book, I am left wondering why a re-issue wasn't planned, especially since the last re-print was done by Collins Press around 15 years ago. The only way to acquire a copy now is to go out on the second hand market and I have seen prices reaching hundreds of pounds. Those may be for original editions but even a second hand paperback edition from Collins Press seems to attract prices of £20-30. At least, that's what my own copy cost me and it's in decent condition too, albeit with yellowed pages and bent corner to a few of them that I largely have straightened. What struck me though was the size of the book since he didn't write a slim tome while he was at the task. What really helps though is that it remains well readable from what I have read of it so far and spans a remarkable time in Ireland's history.
Praeger had much experience in writing since he co-edited the Irish Naturalist (when this ceased to exist in 1924, it was succeeded by the Irish Naturalist's Journal in 1925) and contributed also to the Proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy. One of those was published in 1901, Irish Topographical Botany: This was a weighty contribution with the descriptive treated almost as a preface with pages numbered using Roman numerals and what otherwise could be seen as an appendix gaining the Arabic ones to which we all are accustomed. Though largely a work of scientific reporting, mentions of fondness regarding the Irish outdoors were snook onto page lxxxix. Here is a first quote where a brief interlude of reminiscence was allowed:
The long summer days spent in the Limestone Plain,
where the gentle undulations of the ground
only occasionally hid the distant rim of brown and blue hills;
the marshy meadows, heavy with the scent of flowers;
the great brown bogs, where the curlews alone relieved the loneliness;
the bare limestone pavements and gaunt grey hills of Clare and Galway;
the savage cliffs of the Mayo coast;
the flower-filled sand-dunes which fringe the Irish Sea;
the fertile undulations of southern Ulster;
the swift brown current of the Barrow;
the fretted limestone shores of the great western lakes;
the towering cones of the Galtees:
all have left memories that can never be effaced.
That expression of affection was followed by another on the same page that suggests an innocence lost when it comes to access to the Irish countryside on foot. It sounds utopian to my ears now but it does seem that walking around Ireland in the late nineteenth century was more carefree than is the case today:
Ireland is a delightful country for the pursuit of work in the field.
Enclosed or preserved ground is but seldom met with,
and the country is free and open.
Few rivers but can be, forded;
few marshes or bogs but can be crossed;
few precipices but yield their treasures to the mountaineer;
few spots are so remote but they may be visited
in a good day's walking from the nearest stopping-place.
Praeger's scientific endeavours had him criss-crossing the Irish countryside on foot during weekend excursions and the Office of Public Works still has something on the web that offers a flavour of his itineraries. He depended on the rail network for these and never took to the car, perhaps seen as a newfangled development in his lifetime. His research was both done for the love of it and to sate a certain curiosity. It was the sort of enterprise that Brian Cox was describing in his documentary series Science Britannica on BBC television.
Just like its aforementioned BBC counterpart, the RTÉ series was a three part affair and these seem to be becoming a regular occurrence even on British television. Secrets of the Irish Landscape was a major effort for a national broadcaster whose finances have not been so healthy since the economic downturn of 2008 and its first episode was no shabby affair at all. But for what was going on in my life at the time, I might have caught up with all three programmes though only the first would have been seen in Ireland itself. RTÉ has a far more liberal approach to folk on the British side of the Irish Sea viewing or listening to its broadcasting over the web, more so than the BBC when it comes to seeing their output in Éire. The whole series could have been seen and there was a season of programmes under the Ireland Goes Wild banner to go along with Secrets of the Irish Landscape too.
Just as there has been no reissuing of Preager's The Way That I Went, Secrets of the Irish Landscape has not come out on DVD either; there is a teaser trailer still is to be found on YouTube where you can see how it took my fancy. What we have in its stead is a glossy coffee table format book featuring subjects covered in the series. It is a collection of scientific essays with accompanying photos from different experts with the whole being edited by Matthew Jebb of the National Botanic Gardens in Dublin and Colm Crowley of RTÉ. Given what's on offer, I am left wondering if a more portable format might have been a better choice; then, it not only would come on a journey with you or even live more easily on a nearby bookshelf to be picked up for a short perusal during a quiet few minutes. My own copy came from the Limerick city centre branch of Eason's a few months after the series had been on the Irish airwaves and has been perused in fits and starts since its organisation suits that more random approach. This also is something that can be done more easily with a book printed on paper than a digital equivalent.
There is one final thought that comes to mind when I think of what Praeger did. His explorations of Ireland remind me of my own outings though there remain great differences. The use of public transport over a hundred years ago and the long walks could be part of many an outdoors enthusiast's weekend away and they remind me of my own escapades. In place of seeking of peace and quiet for the soothing of the human spirit, Praeger had loftier ambitions and much more substantive achievements. In contrast to the seeking of an unperturbed ambience and fleeting light that brightened a pleasing vista for a photo that has motivated me, he wanted to know what plants were in Ireland and from where they had come after the last Ice Age. He sought knowledge and left a legacy while I have acquired memories that help to balm life's wounds. The comparison makes me wonder if something more would be in order but, for now, that's something for contemplation rather than rash action.
Better late than never
14th May 2013 If you are a magazine publisher, it helps if you can do so on a regular schedule. Walking World Ireland has fallen foul of that more than once within the last year, and it has taken five months for the current issue to arrive, both to subscribers and to shops. Last year's annual featured multiple walking routes taken directly from Collins Press' series of walking guides, instead of coming from regular contributors such as Dennis Gill and Tom Hutton. That left me wondering if financial troubles were the cause of that, though the content wasn't any less useful as a result.
For any struggling magazine, an irregular publishing schedule is the sort of habit that needs breaking. It also was one that afflicted the now defunct Cycling World magazine, and it leaves a gap in the marketplace these days. If you were after a magazine that prioritised route features over cycling kit, then this would have been the one to have. Now that it's gone, it appears that coverage and reviews of new bikes and other pieces of equipment is what sells, and that the experience of getting out in the countryside to clear your head is playing second fiddle.
Thankfully, walking is more about the experience of being outside in the countryside than about the kit that you use. The result has been that we are keen to read about new routes and the experiences of others. Walking World Ireland has done well on both counts for as long as I have known it and gives prominence to a country whose countryside deserves it. Reassuring, the latest late edition has something of the character to which I have come to expect of the magazine. There are two routes from a long-standing regular contributor (Tom Hutton) and Andy Callan is doing gear reviews. EastWest Mapping still supplies route maps, so things feel as if they may be returning to normal.
However, there are changes afoot too, and these are described in an otherwise apologetic editorial. The publishing frequency is set to go from bimonthly to quarterly, and a digital edition is planned too. Hopefully, that will be available for Android tablets (there is a Nexus 7 in my possession) and that blinding by iPad isn't witnessed as has been the case for other magazines. It sounds as if the last few months have been difficult ones for a magazine that has been with us since 1993, so I hope that it has a future in uncertain economic times. Hopefully, the ample amount of satisfying Irish walking will continue to have a place on new stands because it is more than deserved. With subscriptions priced now from €18, the offering looks more attractive than it ever did.
Update 2013-05-20: Cycling World magazine has turned out not to be as defunct as I thought that it was; the May issue is out now, and I have a copy in my possession after a visit to the Macclesfield branch of W H Smith on Saturday. However, the Walking World Ireland website is down as write these words, so that's not a happy harbinger for its continued existence after there being a troubled year for the magazine.
Update 2013-06-09: Walking World Ireland has got its website up and going again, so all is looking more promising. Now, let's hope things stay that way for them...
Little snatches
26th February 2013 While I must admit a certain partiality to books of the dead tree variety and it's the presentation that often makes them an alluring acquisition. Of course, that's why they are made that way in the first place: books of pleasant appearance get taken into a customer's hands in a bookshop, become read a little and leave with their new custodian following payment. If lapses into temptation happen faster than your rate of reading, then a collection of unread volumes may build. Not being a book antiquarian, I tend to think this not a good use of money even if the outcome befalls me from time to time. Taking my time over reading means that I never got along with two week loan periods from libraries because I always seemed to find other distractions for one reason or another.
The trick naturally is to make some time for reading. Doing it before settling down for the night is what many do and it ends up in so many television and movie dramas too. There was a time when I did that but it has been a habit that I lost. Now, I am more likely to use a book to shorten a long journey but that means bringing one with me in the first place and that has been a weakness in the past.
Computer technology has been the cause of elbowing its way into time that I may have had for watching television or reading books and magazines. Ironically, it also has solved the problem of not having a book with me when I fancied a spot of reading. The rise of tablet computers was something that I resisted until last summer saw me acquire a Nexus 7 from Google. Within the last few months, I have gotten to adding books to it from the Google Play and Amazon Kindle stores.
This started with Ben Goldacre's Bad Pharma, perhaps a more serious polemical tome, and then moved to something more in keeping with the subject of this place. It was Robert Macfarlane's The Old Ways. This isn't the first of this author's books that has come in my possession since I also have a paperback edition of Mountains of the Mind on a shelf that got plucked from its roost to sit on the desk in front of me as I set to writing these words. While getting around to reading books the first time around has been an issue for me, it now feels as if I should re-read this one to see how it compares with what followed it. Currently, I am in the middle of the second member of the loose trilogy, The Wild Places and I first read through Macfarlane's first book over a Christmas and New Year stretch in Ireland the most of a decade ago now. The passage of time shows up the power of a memory so it'd be good to see what it says again.
In essence, The Old Ways is a series of essays with the ghosts of Edward Thomas and Nan Shepherd featuring in an attempt to thread them together. The resultant sense of connection is not so strong and some have wondered at whether it was a necessary thing to try. The immersive tales of personal journeys draw you along though and make you feel that Macfarlane is good company for a long journey; you can escape your immediate surroundings and virtually join him on his various journeys over land, by sea and over sea. If he is trying to attach a sense of history to the various trails that he has followed, then he has succeeded. However, I am unconvinced as to whether it does so as an attempt to understand the mindset of Edward Thomas before penning a brief biography of the doomed poet. Maybe it's best to have the sense that paths go in all sorts of directions and that it is difficult to reconciled them into a meaningful whole. That could be another lesson.
Not having read The Wild Places before The Old Ways might have produced the sense of approaching the former from an unintentional angle. The latter's series of stories is borrowed by its successor and maybe more successfully too. Going through a series of landscapes like moor, forest and river valley creates a sequences that allows even disparate tales and experiences to sit together far better than it might suggest. The sense of history turns up too as do those who have in past times written of those places less influenced by human activity. Still, apparent wildness can result from inhumanity and the Scottish Clearances have become a byword for that (the Irish farming folk of the nineteenth made sure that the same fate wasn't as easy to meet out to them, so much so that the British parliament acting to finance their buying of land and thus ensuring a more peopled countryside in much of the island). Plenty of immersive experiences draw me along and they work better in short sessions too, an attribute that works well for The Old Ways too. Maybe it might be good for ensuring a re-reading of Mountains of the Mind to replenish the memories of reading that the first time around.
After those, there's Simon Armitage's Walking Home too. This follows the Pennine Way and a suitably evocative passage recalling waking up in a YHA hostel got that onto my list too. Covers may begin the selling process of a book but it's the writing that matters. With the advance of eBooks, it's the presentation of paper books that is going to matter if we are to continue to have them; you almost are going to have be convinced of the need for a long term sale in some way. The electronic ones are great for portability but they are no so good for holding the hand and dipping in and out of random pages or of seeing how long chapters are, a sort of sneaky peek at your progress. Still, they're getting me not to forget some reading so long as I manage to organise a WiFi connection for the gadget. A spot of curiosity has seen me locate Nan Shepherd's The Living Mountain so who knows what could accompany me next? It would be even better if they came on a journey into hill country as well.
