The penalties and rewards of working in libraries struck again because I encountered a couple items on the shelves I just had to borrow. They were The Art of D’scard’ng by Nagisa Tatsumi and British Weird edited by James Machin. It’s weird alright, since they both seemed to be waiting for me, especially the D’scard’ng book, a plain white hardback I found lying on its own on a shelf where it shouldn’t be – it had been discarded, you might say. When I saw what it was (the subtitle was ‘How to get rid of clutter and find joy’) and that the author was Japanese, it 
genuinely spoke to me. Flicking through it, I saw there was not much that hadn’t already occurred to me in the constant life hack that is clearing out your clutter, but I knew it would be a good reminder to get me motivated to do it, yet again. The British Weird book is a collection of short stories from 1893 – 1937, featuring works by Edith Nesbit, John Buchan and others. I was especially interested in ‘Mary Butts‘ influential 1933 essay on supernatural writing, “Ghosties and Ghoulies”‘ (from the blurb). Figured I’d just read that and leave the stories alone, so it would be a quick read, but I will probably read it all anyway. I love weird and wonderful themed short story collections. Anyway, check that cover!
I finished that book The Art of D’scard’ng by Nagisa Tastsumi. The author talked about a lot of items that don’t really apply to me, like clothes (well, I wear them, but I’m not obsessed), kid’s things, etc. The ones that did were books, dvds, cds and magazines. A survey done by the author suggested it’s exactly these things, plus clothes, that are the ones most people have trouble deleting from their lives. I sympathise. I enjoyed the many references to Japanese society and their traditions and ways of doing things. A chapter on what to do with dolls and soft toys went thus: ‘Through my survey I was surprised to discover that many Japanese people find dolls and soft toys difficult to throw away because ‘they have eyes’ or ‘they might curse you’. Anybody in Japan who feels uncomfortable disposing of dolls as rubbish could try a temple. Some Japanese temples, especially those that run pet cemeteries, hold special services for dolls.’ Overall, the book made me mindful of things I should throw out, but it also got me thinking of the items I should not have thrown out, but did. One such item was my old Face To Face LP by The Kinks. I had bought the cd, so decided I didn’t need the LP anymore. A lot of us did that back in the early days of cd. And we’re doing it again now with the streaming age, throwing out our cds. But that Kinks LP meant a lot to me. It was in stereo, for starters. The cd I bought was in mono, and I haven’t seen a stereo copy anywhere. Doing the life hack thing, throwing away your clutter is all very well, all very reasonable, but it leaves out important factors. Like memories, emotions, connections. There’s also the practical consideration of scarcity. As the author says in the book, ‘If you throw away something important and irreplaceable, then, yes, there’s a problem.’ I’ve since re-bought a lot of records I threw out in the day for these same reasons. One day I hope I’ll find another copy of that Face To Face LP.
In the course of writing up the previous entry I had to look through some old photo albums for that shot of a much younger me standing next to a fireplace with the Kinks album Face To Face propped on it. There was a series of such photos featuring that album. My girlfriend of the time and I were having an impromptu indoor picnic and for some reason I suggested a series of us including that album. All the more reason for regretting letting it go when I did. Anyway, it got me sorting through my photo albums and rearranging them a bit. A pleasant if slightly bittersweet experience. There’s a lot of them I haven’t scanned and digitized, which I really should get onto.
I read James Machin‘s introduction to the book British Weird that I borrowed recently. It was a great read. It served not only as an introduction to the stories and authors in the collection, but was a great overview of the history of British Weird in general. I really liked his concept of the temenos or temenoi, a place imbued with a kind of psychic or historical power, where perhaps something extraordinary had happened, and which features in much weird writing. My favourite author, Ursula Le Guin, conjures up such places in some of her writing, and now I have a name for them. So too Machin’s delineation of recurring themes in the book, including ‘unstable geographies, or the landscape as a palimpsest or psychic reliquary of history’. Machin’s a very erudite writer, and used a number of words I hadn’t encountered before. One such word I liked was ‘atavistic’ – ‘reverting to or suggesting the characteristics of a remote ancestor or primitive type’, like having an atavistic fear of the dark. Good word. I will have to slip it into my conversation or writing some time. Now I’m looking forward to reading the book.
I tried reading that essay in the British Weird book by Mary Butts called ‘Ghosties and Ghoulies, Uses of the Supernatural In English Fiction’, but I couldn’t finish it. The writer’s style was too florid, too verbose for my liking, and she took too long to get to the point. It happens sometimes, when you encounter an author whose style just doesn’t sit well with you. You tend to see it straight away, their thinking processes seem to be different to yours, and there’s no connection. When that happens I find it’s always better to just accept the incompatibility and call it quits, rather than fumble on and waste your time. I’m really sorry, Mary, this was my failure.