Tuesday, March 16, 2010

"Marvellously revising at the beauty

of the Chappel, greatly praised it, above all others within her realm."

This sentence about Queen Elizabeth I caught my eye as I flicked through the book, as well it might, for there's something inordinately glittering about the language of the 16th century and language, glittering or otherwise, is something that has eluded me these past couple of weeks. If I didn't know better, I'd say I've had bloggers block - an oddly exhausting state of mind and fearsome loss of faculty.

I seemed to be doing well with my research into the Lost Generation then, one morning, I did not want to communicate - I'd had enough and was worn out. The subject matter was fascinating to me and continues to be but there I was, here I am, squatting back on my mental haunches with back to the wall, awaiting the day when I resume the, for me, important task of bringing these men to mind.

Thus, in my self-reproachful state, I ordered two books that were delivered today: two books, one, a veritable tome, so heavy it needs to be read from a lectern and the other lambently brilliant as befits is subject. To say I'm thrilled is an understatement.

Neither, alas, can be read whilst one is soaking in a bubble bath, nor should they be placed by the sink to be read in snatches between strokes of a razor - the usual fate of the New Yorker which has a daily migration schedule from nightstand to vanity and back again to whichever side of the bed is not, perchance, reading a trashy detective/vampire/inner-landscape-twaddle/Japanese fashion magazine/whatever. But, I digress. They are books that will afford me so much pleasure and I hope time to assimilate and tick over in such a way that my blogger's block may gently be breached.

The Chappel Queen Elizabeth praised was that of King's College, Cambridge or, more formally, The King's College of Our Lady and Saint Nicholas in Cambridge - one of the glories of English Perpendicular Architecture.

Photo of chapel from http://www.cambridge2000.com/index.html
Book images from Amazon.com


  1. Your block has not been that severe! A joy to read today's post.

  2. The B recipe: beautiful books for block breaching. Happy reading - your audience is patient!

  3. Both excellent choices (though I do not yet have the French Interiors book). Sometimes the past is a good place to seek refuge. I love Girouard's "Life in the English Country House"...I use it like an encyclopedia.

  4. Everyone needs an occassional break. I am glad you are back!

  5. Thank you, Columnist, le style et la matiere, Janet and John, I really do appreciate what you've said.

  6. I enjoyd 2 years of of the good life in Cambridge (England)when in the Air Force.
    Kings Chappel was a regular haunt. Ohhh, that beautiful ceiling and thoes huge, and glorious, windows!
    And, welcome back. I was getting worried!

  7. Reminds me a bit when I was in graduate school and some how all of my discordant classes seemed to hone in on nothingness. All of that bleak nothingness was hard to digest in bleak winter. So glad when the sun came back in every way.

    The Lost Generation is so very personal to you, that you have felt it in your marrow. You just needed to take time off for a different view of the world. However, Blue I do think you should think about writing this book. Whenever anything is this deeply felt, I do think it is a sign that something has to come of it.

  8. home before dark, I'm grateful as ever for your advice and I think I'm going to take it.

    Will, next week is spring break and I hope to catch up then.

  9. Oh Please. Would that I could write half as well as you, even when you profess to be blocked.

    Are you sure that it just isn't Spring fever? Perusing my blog list, I notice that an unusually high proportion of my favorites haven't posted for a week or more--meself included. I sit at the keyboard, nothing comes out.

  10. I find that switching gears and going for a walk or run helps. As do new books!

  11. I love to watch a man shaving but to watch a man shaving whilst he reads the New Yorker is an even more affecting prospect. I ask myself why that is and I reckon the answer is that were he unaware of being watched it would increase the scopophilic pleasure of objectifying him. Simple as that.