Tag Archives: book

For the Love of Books

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This is not the post I intended to write today; but then again, I did not expect today to go as it did.

I am a big believer in the wrong turn; the accidental; the unexpected.  Diversions can take you straight to the point; wandering around might show you a new destination. Allowing yourself to be surprised might be the first of a series of events that will enrich your life in ways you never expected.

And now I am standing here, surrounded by mountains of paper with streets made of letters, paved with black and blue ink. The day started with the sun and a to do list, and ended with the stars and a pile of books.

Now, let me explain: I am not entirely sure I always liked books; I remember as a kid when guests came to my party, spotting a book-shaped gift meant a wave of disappointment. Then, books meant school, and teachers, and grades. Books were the manuals for TV and films, instead of a form of entertainment.

But as an IKEA couch remains an object of mystery without the 4 sheets of instructions that come with it, so is life incomplete without the pages of a book. Reading for the first time passages that made me laugh, cry, or realize how similar, different, and unique each person is, are moments that I will always carry with me.

So, I became a bookworm; I always carry at least one book with me. I know that some people are very precious with their books, but I cannot say I am. I crack the back, write, draw, underline, spill coffee, drop tea, and all forms of actions that would make other book lovers gasps. In my books you will find dried flowers from days out, sand from days at the beach, and dried pages from reading in the rain.

So, today I decided to cheer up a friend by making a small photo set of 10 ways to be happy using books. I chose 10 books, put them in an eco bag from Tesco, grabbed my iPhone and walked out of the house.

In between pictures, I flipped through the books, and slowly the intervals got longer. I was reminded of all the parts that made me fall in love with the characters in the pages; I remembered why I love Ali Smith’s work so much, and why every single page, every singe sentence, every single word that escapes from her mind is a work of genius.

I fell down the myriad of complex issues that are discussed in Alice in Wonderland, lived life in the bright colours of Andy Warhol and blew the candles of Truman Capote’s birthday cake.

I saw beauty through the rose-tinted glasses of fairy tales and the realistic eye of Zadie Smith, wrote my notes on a scandal and took a picture of a the theory of taking pictures.

And then I got lost in the words that explored the city I was reading these words in. I got lost in the moment, in the page. The day became more than a project; it became a collection of moments, of words, of feelings, of memories, of smells, of sounds, of the books I read, how they became part of me.

Time for the next page.

Love,

G

Gay’s the Word: The Epicentre of the London LGBT Written Word

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I decided to take the bus today. I had time to kill, a book to read, and a headache creeping up, the reminder of that third glass of wine from yesterday.
The sky was a darker shade of grey when I looked up, and I was near Kings Cross. I checked the time on the screen of my phone, took a deep inhale, and pressed the stop button.
I got off and made my way across the street and into the British Library. I went to the ground floor cafe, queued for a lemon and poppyseed cake, took my latte in a paper cup, and found a table in the corner. I sat in the admittedly uncomfortable chair and turned my phone off.
About two hours later, when my cup was almost empty and my plate licked clean, I decided it was time for a walk. I gulped down the rest of my coffee, got up and wrapped my scarf around my neck as I was walking towards the exit. I knew where I was headed.

I started walking towards the Brunswick centre. I used to live close about 4 years ago, so I knew the streets and shops relatively well. A few more steps, and I would stand in front one of the most important shops in LGBT British identity. And, sure enough, there it was.
Sandwiched between an Internet Cafe and a spa, Gay’s the Word looks a little out of place; a little queer. The blue sign, the wooden frames, the charm that it exudes making it look like it just appeared out of nowhere. If there ever was a gay version of Harry Potter, this would definitely be the Ollivanders Wand shop.
Greeted by a bell on the door and a warm smile at the counter, GTW can not disappoint. It is a literal literary tardis, housing in a relatively small space a plethora of LGBT work: in its shelves, one can find the latest queer studies, academic work, non-fiction, fiction, magazines, DVDs, postcards and small gifts (for others; or yourself; or bought for others, but kept by self).
The space’s relaxed atmosphere is partly due to the clever layout and quirky interior, but mostly to the mesmerising presence of Jim Macsweeney. Cool blue eyes and a knowing smile, Jim greets people that walk in as if they used to know each other from a different past, a different life. He radiates a disarming warmth, his face lighting up when talking about the space, the events, the customers.

I tell him about the first time I saw the store. It was my first year in London, and everything seemed so vast, so chaotic. Apart from my conviction that it was really cool to wear only red and black when going out (the delusions of youth), and that Topman was the centre of the universe (the source of the delusions of youth), I was pretty lost. I was out to my friends from home, but as I was making myself at home here, I did not know where the outside was. I was walking down the street from my student halls with my Sainsbury’s bags, and there I saw it. I stopped; walked past it; stopped; went back to it; inhaled; and walked in.

You see, like for many GTW customers, visiting this shop was a small brick to building my gay identity. It is not a badly lit bookshelf in the corner of a sex shop. It is not a pile of books next to displays of double dildos. It is an actual bookshop, a place where it is ok to be out: out in public; out in press; out in writing; out to the world. I bought a couple of books, went to my room, and read them at the same night, sat on the green rug next my bed, my phone on silent, my eyes sponges soaking up all the words. Since then, I would visit the store almost every month: from my AXM and Attitude copies, to references for my MSc dissertation, I knew I would find everything I wanted there.

Jim smiles. He tells me how the customer age group ranges from 16-85, and how just the other day, two young guys came in the store; the more confident was bringing the novice to browse. We started talking about the importance of a bookshop like this one in the normalising process, and he told me that after 32 years, GTW is the only remaining LGBT bookshop in the UK. Not surprisingly, it was in the Top 50 Independent Bookstores list, and was shortlisted for the Best Bookshop of the Year Award.
What really impressed me though is the unyielding positivity that Jim has. ‘Yes, customers are happy, we are happy, sales are great, everything is fine!’ he says. I look at him suspiciously. ‘What about ebooks?’ I say, ‘surely that must worry you. It is worrying most of the publishing world for their future’. Jim looks at me cryptically, tilts his head and says ‘I prefer to stay in the present. We have survived a lot of other things, and I am sure we will survive this one; ebooks can be something we can look for the future, but for now, life is good as it is.’
A constant LGBT presence, it must be a bit unnerving for him to see popular outlets like Waterstones and HMV to have a G&L section now, after GTW gave a fight for all the years that these stores would never commission LGBT literature. ‘Not at all’ he says, ‘I actually think it is brilliant. It makes LGBT literature visible. It makes it accessible. I would much rather prefer young people walking in their local Waterstones in Cardiff and finding LGBT material available’. He smiles. I am amazed, and a little speechless.

Here is a man and a store that have survived 32 years open, during which they have had their shares of threats and misfortunes, from rent raises to political boycotting. Even after all this, they choose not to be bitter, or miserable, or short-sighted. They choose to celebrate life. They stuck with it when the going was tough, and even if people do not necessarily realise it as they dance in clubs, or hold hands in public, or tell their colleagues they are gay, we owe a lot to this little store.

We close our discussion with talks about community: apart from a weekly Lesbian Discussion Group and monthly Trans Discussion Group, they now have a monthly LGBT Book Club, discussing works that are not necessarily under the LGBT umbrella. And if all this was not enough, Jim tells me how excited he is about the March events, and the work that GTW customers can explore:

First, the fascinating work of psychiatrist and criminologist Donald J West, who 55 years after publishing Homosexuality, can write openly as a gay man about his own experience of marrying a ‘deviant’ sexuality with a ‘mainstream’ career. The event centres around his new book Gay Life, Straight Work (01/03/2012, 19:00-21:00), and is absolutely free.
Then, the new and exciting voice of Justin Torres, in his new coming of age debut novel We the Animals (22/03/2012, 19:00-21:00, £2 entry); and Patrick Gale’s sold out event for his new book A perfectly Good Man. If you want signed copies of the books but can not make it to the events, fret not: just drop them an email at sales@gaystheword.co.uk, and they will find a way to make it happen.

LGBT History Month is almost over. I read a lot of material on the press, about the adversity and difficulties we go though. The discrimination, the pain. I have felt it as well. I know what it feels like, the taste it leaves in your mouth. I know how important it is to put it out there. You know that. However, I think that once it is out there, it is even more important to show the next step. The step of acceptance. The step of moving on. Of celebrating life. Of focusing on the positive. Of looking at the world through rose tinted glasses, that you chose to wear on a cloudy afternoon.

I have mine on now; and the world looks a little bit magnificent.

Love,

G

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Yumchaa: Chai Latte Escapes in the Middle of the City

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Before I begin a book, I go to the last page (avoiding the text there at all cause), and look at the number of pages. Then I turn to the first page, and pencil it down. I stare at the numbers for a while, following the curves of my illegible hand writing, and then turn the page.

I always want to know where I am in a story: in a good book, it reminds you to take your time and savour the experience; in a bad book, it gives you hope that its liberating end is fast approaching.

I was reading Hotel World by Ali Smith. Reading anything penned from Ali Smith is a journey to be experienced, every word a step, every page a masterpiece. I absolutely adore all of her work, and can not wait to dig into her new novel ‘There But For The’ (however, as I have promised, I am putting Ms Dalloway next in my reading list!).

I knew I had to chose an environment that would match the overwhelming beauty of the book, and stealing a few moments from work, I knew exactly where I was heading.

I can not describe the sense of calmness that comes with walking into a Yumchaa tea shop. It is almost as if the door has a filter, stopping the outside world from coming in with you, allowing you to breath in the amazing blend of the teas, stacked on the wall behind the counter.

Yumchaa manages to make you feel warm inside, and this is not only from the magnificent selection of tea it serves. Bathed in neutral tones and equipped with an eclectic mix of quirky seating, (some more comfortable than others), it provides the perfect time out from the world, and the perfect excuse for a quick catch up with a good friend, or in this case, a good book.

Sitting on the sofa under the skylight in Camden, or soaking the gold tones from the vintage lamps in the lower ground floor in Soho, having tea in any Yumchaa is really an experience to savour.

I got so lost in the book that my chai latte got cold and the people around me were replaced by a new set of faces. I gulped it down, put my coat on, and run down the chilly street. The sun is out. It is such a beautiful day.

Love,

G

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What Are You Reading?

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Today sounded like Claire Maguire and Elbow, tasted like apple and ginger tea, and smelt like Tesco Cleaning Spray. Day off meant cleaning a house in dire need of cleaning.

I opened the windows, and embraced the freezing cold that came with the fresh air. The pavements outside were wet, even though it did not rain. People across the street were exhaling hot clouds of breaths and smoke, getting on and off buses, talking on phones, talking to others.

I planned my resolutions for the year. I wrote them on my new skywriting journal; every page is a picture of the sky, and my words are spreading over clouds and sunsets. On the next page, I wrote what 2011 taught me, and it only took one page. Looking at who I was and who I am now only makes me wonder who I will be by 2013. People change constantly, the changes are just too small to perceive. You just hope that you change in parallel ways to the people in your life, because if you don’t, then what?

I decided to give away 74 books from my library. Now, I know that this gasp-inducing fact might seem strange. I love my books; I love walking in and seeing a full bookcase, a testament to the fact that my eyes have travelled the vertical lines of letters that decorate their pages. But is that what my bookcase should represent?

As I was taking the books out, I was surprised to see a lot that I did not enjoy reading (If I begin a book, I have to finish it). Books that were piled behind the good ones; those I could not put down, and had to read in bed with a flashlight, getting impatient grunts from my partner.
Why was I keeping these books? Was it to remind myself that I read them? Or to satisfy my hoarding genetic tendency? Or even worse, to get the admiring look of a friend coming over for tea? I stared at the softback spines, and tilted my head. It was time.

I do not want a book case filled with books; I want one filled with books I love. And I don’t want a life filled with plans and events; I want one filled with cherished memories and people that enrich it.

So, I took the books out (followed by what can only be remembered as the 2012 DVD massacre), and decided to make a book resolution. Books that I want to read this year, and I would love to share it with you:

(From January to March)

Two books from one of my favourite authors, Ali Smith:
Hotel World
There but for the

Then another two from Michael Cunningham:
By Nightfall
The Hours

Followed by a trip into dystopic futures:
The Handmaid’s Tail by Margaret Atwood
Delirium by Lauren Oliver
The Crystal World by JG Ballard

Listening to stories of the human loneliness:
Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Wolf
A Single Man by Christopher Isherwood
The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

As well as art from the artist’s mouth:
On Photography by Susan Sontag
My life in a Column by Tracey Emin

Last but not least, I am planning to start April with the remaining 4 books in the True Blood series (my unashamed guilty pleasure!).

Rather excited. Better start reading!

Love,

G

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