Monday, February 02, 2009
Still trying
Back from Epsom to a phone call from the Total Broadband technical support people. Once again, the line, having been dead for near 48 hours, springs into life as I speak with them. But we agree that the call is still open.
Having finished the previous post, find out that the Internet part of the library is doing normal business but there are very few other customers. Clearly the need to surf is greater than the need to read. Or perhaps the differance is far simpler: if you already have a book you can always read it again. But you can only surf at the library. After the library, a short cruise through Epsom town centre, also mainly inhabited by young people. Witherspoons about to open at 1100, only two hours late, having swept one of their various entrances. The market place boasted a couple of quite respectable snowmen and several snowball fights; the road home several large pine trees well bent down with the snow.
In the warm, pegging on with Babbitt by Upton Sinclair, courtesy of some charity shop or other. First time I have read the man since reading 'The Jungle' in my lefty youth. This one seems rather more mainstream, more about the life of a suburban man in Middle America in the prohibition twenties than the iniquities of capitalism - although he does get a few swipes in. Quite a funny book really although the heavy slang takes a while to get used to and can be a bit tiresome at times. An experimental book in that things like newspaper advertisements and newspaper articles are included, in a sort of display format, in-line. I wonder how such things would be handled today with the printing facilities we now have? Full colour inset? Illustrated novels - that is to say with illustrations crafted, perhaps by the author, to the text, do not seem to be the thing. Last time I recall seeing anything warm was the rather crude woodcuts for the chapter headings in the US edition of an Everest climbing book called 'Into Thin Air'. I think Ian Fleming used to include some display text in his Bond books. And there used to be woodcut illustrated books in the thirties of the last century; pretty but perhaps a touch precious. Furthermore, while those pictures were keyed to the text after a fashion, they tended to be full page pictures. No attempt to integrate with the detail or layout of the page. And, of course, childrens' books are usually illustrated. But full blown illustrated novels for adults in my time, no.
In this part of prohibition Middle America drink was reasonably available. No self respecting host would put on a dinner party without something. But one had to talk with unshaven people on the wrong side of the tracks to get it. On the other hand, the suburban men who are the subject of the book appear to do a lot of cigar smoking (and Babbitt spends a fair amount of time giving up cigar smoking, indulging in various familiar dodges along the way) and a lot of pipe smoking with cigarettes not so much in evidence. A very most amount of chewing tobacco.
Having finished the previous post, find out that the Internet part of the library is doing normal business but there are very few other customers. Clearly the need to surf is greater than the need to read. Or perhaps the differance is far simpler: if you already have a book you can always read it again. But you can only surf at the library. After the library, a short cruise through Epsom town centre, also mainly inhabited by young people. Witherspoons about to open at 1100, only two hours late, having swept one of their various entrances. The market place boasted a couple of quite respectable snowmen and several snowball fights; the road home several large pine trees well bent down with the snow.
In the warm, pegging on with Babbitt by Upton Sinclair, courtesy of some charity shop or other. First time I have read the man since reading 'The Jungle' in my lefty youth. This one seems rather more mainstream, more about the life of a suburban man in Middle America in the prohibition twenties than the iniquities of capitalism - although he does get a few swipes in. Quite a funny book really although the heavy slang takes a while to get used to and can be a bit tiresome at times. An experimental book in that things like newspaper advertisements and newspaper articles are included, in a sort of display format, in-line. I wonder how such things would be handled today with the printing facilities we now have? Full colour inset? Illustrated novels - that is to say with illustrations crafted, perhaps by the author, to the text, do not seem to be the thing. Last time I recall seeing anything warm was the rather crude woodcuts for the chapter headings in the US edition of an Everest climbing book called 'Into Thin Air'. I think Ian Fleming used to include some display text in his Bond books. And there used to be woodcut illustrated books in the thirties of the last century; pretty but perhaps a touch precious. Furthermore, while those pictures were keyed to the text after a fashion, they tended to be full page pictures. No attempt to integrate with the detail or layout of the page. And, of course, childrens' books are usually illustrated. But full blown illustrated novels for adults in my time, no.
In this part of prohibition Middle America drink was reasonably available. No self respecting host would put on a dinner party without something. But one had to talk with unshaven people on the wrong side of the tracks to get it. On the other hand, the suburban men who are the subject of the book appear to do a lot of cigar smoking (and Babbitt spends a fair amount of time giving up cigar smoking, indulging in various familiar dodges along the way) and a lot of pipe smoking with cigarettes not so much in evidence. A very most amount of chewing tobacco.
# posted by Jim @ 4:10 AM 
